“I’m always armed.”
He was? “Since when?”
His lips curled. “Always, baby. I have a knife in my boot right now. I’ve got a concealed carry license, so I keep my gun at the ready.”
“I didn’t notice…”
“Because I didn’t want you to. Because I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
A light sweat covered her body. Not so for Odin. The man hadn’t even broken a sweat as they tangled together. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good.” He rolled his shoulders. Exhaled.
“I should have a weapon.” Something more than her mace.
“If the perp takes the weapon away from you, you just went from bad to worse.”
Yes, she got that, and she also got that she was getting his down and dirty self-defense guide because he was afraid. It was almost sweet. No, correction, it was sweet. He was insisting that she learn these techniques before they left because he wanted her safe. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that big, fierce Odin was starting to care for her…
I don’t know better…because I hope that he does care. I hope this isn’t just some sort of standard Trouble for Hire package thing that they teach everyone. She bit her lip, then blurted, “Does Trouble for Hire provide these lessons to all clients?”
He’d turned away. Headed toward the counter in the kitchen. “I know War taught Rose. He wanted to make sure she could be as safe as possible.”
Yes, but Rose and War had married so…
He flattened his hands on the counter. “Are we going to talk about it?”
It? “Could you be more specific?” She peered at his broad back.
“Last night.”
Right. That was what she’d thought. He was referring to the sex that had left her in a melted puddle of bliss. “What, exactly, do you want to discuss—about it, I mean?”
He turned and looked at her. “Was it too much?”
She shook her head.
“Do you have regrets?”
Again, Maisey shook her head. Then, “Do you?”
“Only that I didn’t make love to you the first day we met.”
Oh. “I kinda regret that, too.” She offered him a smile. “But better late than never, am I right?”
His gaze fell to her mouth. His expression shifted. Became even more inscrutable.
“Odin?”
He gave a little jerk. “You stay with me. You follow my orders. You don’t go rogue for even a second, got me?”
A light laugh slipped from her. “As if I’m the going-rogue type.”
Now he quirked a brow.
“Fine. I’ll stay with you. Happy?”
“Not yet. But I think I know how I fucking will be.”
***
“All of Whitney’s files and belongings were boxed up and moved down here.” Maisey shoved her key into the lock on the storage room door. The storage room was in the basement of the Humanities building, and being down there again gave her goosebumps. She kept looking nervously over her shoulder, but each time she did, she just saw Odin’s reassuring form behind her. “I’ve actually been through her files at least four times,” Maisey confessed. “It’s not like we’re going to find anything new.” She shoved open the door and hurried unerringly through the towering shelves. “Her sister packed up her house, but I was the one to take care of things here. Her sister didn’t want the items from Whitney’s office on campus, so I secured them.” She rounded the corner.
Came to a quick stop.
Behind her, Odin swore. “Guessing things aren’t supposed to look this way?”
Papers were strown across the floor. Boxes had been overturned. Ripped apart. There was a smashed photo of Whitney in the middle of the wreckage. A photo that had been taken right after she received her Ph.D. Whitney was smiling broadly in the photo even as heavy cracks streaked across the image.
“No. Not supposed to be this way.” Maisey dropped to her knees. She started to reach for the papers.
“What are you doing?” A woman’s voice. Sharp. Angry.
Maisey looked up and saw Heather Blass rushing toward her. Heather was an intern in the psychology department. She’d worked closely with Whitney. Been lost when Whitney vanished. The overhead light glinted off the glasses she wore. Heather’s short, blond hair was cut in a pixie style to frame her delicate face.
“Why did you do this?” Heather staggered to a stop and gaped at the sight before her. “This is Whitney’s!”
Maisey realized the scene appeared bad. How could it not? She was kneeling in the middle of the chaos. “I didn’t—look, I’m not the one who did this!”
“We just arrived,” Odin said from behind Maisey. “Found it this way.”
Behind the lenses of her glasses, Heather’s eyes bulged when she got a good look at him. “Who are you?” she whispered.
Maisey rose. She was gripping the framed photo. “He’s—”
“The boyfriend.” Odin’s arm curled around her shoulders. “I’m Maisey’s boyfriend. After what happened the other day, I’m sticking close to her.”
Heather’s body quivered. “I heard!” Now she scampered toward Maisey, darting through the files and boxes on the floor. Her hands fluttered in the air, as if she’d reach for Maisey, but she stopped herself. “Everyone is talking.” Her voice was an overly loud whisper. “You were almost kidnapped! And the truck was just abandoned and the bad guy got away and no one knows where he is…” A shudder. “My boyfriend is insisting on walking me home at night. And I know the other interns are making sure no one is alone, either. Using the buddy system.”
“Good idea,” Odin said. “Better safe than dead.”
A quick, bobbing nod from Heather. “That’s exactly what I said! Um, actually, no, I think I said better safe than sorry, but I see your point. It’s a good point. Very strong.” She looked back down at the floor. “What is going on?”
Maisey thought it was pretty obvious what was going on. Someone had been looking for something. Searching inside the boxes that belonged to Whitney. With the way everything was thrown and scattered, would they even be able to tell if files were missing? And that was where it seemed the culprit had focused. On Whitney’s case files…
Heather bent down. “I should clean these up—”
“I think we need to call security,” Maisey said.
Heather’s fingers were on top of two files. “Yes. Right. I should get Sandy down here.” She shook her head. “I was here last night. Everything was fine. Nothing was out of place.” She continued to crouch near the scattered papers. “Oh, God, what if…what if he was here, when I was?” She bolted upright. “What if he was hiding in the shadows…” Heather looked over her shoulder. “While I was inside? My boyfriend wasn’t with me. He was outside, and…would he have heard me if I screamed?”
Maisey reached for her hand. Gave it a quick squeeze. Heather had always been the nervous type. Very shy, too. But she was a great intern, at least, according to Whitney, she had been. Thorough. Knowledgeable. “Nothing happened. You’re safe.”