The door was unlocked, which was normal. Even if he hadn’t told his brother he was coming here, the door would have been unlocked. Locking doors in this town was for tourists, not locals.
Consider him a tourist, so long as he was in charge of Katrina’s safety. He glanced at the rusted dead bolt. Tomorrow he’d change the locks on it and the back door.
It was warm inside, which surprised him. At some point over the last however many years it had been since he’d visited, they must have installed central heat. He took in the large living room with a glance. The place was clean and furnished with an older, comfortable sectional and television, but that was updated from what he remembered too. His grandpa must have refurbished the big house and given this place the hand-me-downs.
Katrina slumped against the wooden post at the foot of the stairs and yawned. “Come on,” he said. “Bedrooms are upstairs.”
It wasn’t until he led Katrina to a bedroom and turned the light on that he realized how tired he must be, because he’d accidentally led her to the room he’d used as a kid instead of the much larger master bedroom. Noooo, you cannot put her in your childhood bedroom. That’s so weird.
Before he could stop her, she muttered, “Thank you,” and collapsed on the mattress of the four-poster bed, not even bothering to get under his great-grandmother’s quilt.
“Uh, Katrina,” he tried, but all he got was a slight snore, her mouth parted.
He set his hands on his hips and glanced around. This wasn’t really his room any longer. The walls were bare now, the magazine posters he’d taped on the wood paneling as a kid long gone. The door to the bathroom was wide open, and it was similarly empty but clean and dust-free. He was sure Katrina had brought her fancy toiletries with her, but he could see some small samples on the counter. His brother really had readied the place for him on short notice.
He closed the bathroom door, so the light from the window there wouldn’t interrupt her sleep. He also closed the blinds. He was about to leave when he made the mistake of glancing at her.
She hadn’t taken off her shoes.
So let her sleep in them.
But then she’d be uncomfortable and wake up. He wrestled with himself, but finally walked back to the bed.
It was impossible not to touch her while he removed her shoes, but he tried to remain as detached as possible, even when he had to briefly encircle her slim ankle with his hand.
Pretend it’s a dowel, or a fishing rod, or a hanger. Not a perfect round little ankle.
He didn’t dare take off her socks. If removing her shoes made him feel vaguely guilty, he didn’t want to think how pervy he’d feel for stripping wool off her bare flesh.
He straightened and made for the door, but then did an about-face. Despite the warmth from the heater, it might get much colder up here than Katrina was used to. Jas stood above her and frowned. She was sleeping on top of the bedspread. How was he supposed to get her under it?
He envisioned multiple possibilities, but before he could act, her eyes opened and he froze.
“Jas,” she murmured, and the sleepy, hoarse word made his stomach drop. His name on her lips was always torture, but that husky bedroom tone was too much, especially when deployed in his bedroom.
He clenched his hands tight together so he wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid, like stroke her hair and tell her everything was okay.
What is wrong with you?
He didn’t know, except maybe the fear for her peace of mind had discombobulated him so much he was no longer thinking clearly.
She closed her eyes again, which was good. He stumbled back to the door. His hand got to the doorknob before he mentally kicked himself.
The blanket.
He tiptoed back to the bed and grabbed the part of the cover she wasn’t on and folded it over her body, turning her into the filling of the world’s clumsiest taco.
Good enough.
He nearly ran out of the room when her lips parted. Maybe seeing a woman he had feelings for innocently sleeping in his old bed wouldn’t affect another man at all, but it was clearly making his brain cells seep through his ears.
He closed the door behind him and sighed in relief to be out of there. Don’t think about it. Move on. There was still work to be done.
First, Jas retrieved their bags from the car. They both had backpacks with their laptops and computer things. He had a small duffel and a bigger bag filled with security equipment. She’d packed a large roller suitcase, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, which made sense, since she hadn’t gone anywhere overnight in forever.
He grunted when he lifted her bag out of the trunk. He had no idea what was in it, but back when they’d traveled extensively with Hardeep, she always had carried a great deal of stuff. There had been bellhops then to handle the luggage.
He took their insulated bag of food into the kitchen and placed the few supplies they’d brought into the fridge, including a small jar that contained Katrina’s precious sourdough starter. That had been another thing that Katrina had always traveled with.
He carried the rest of the luggage upstairs and held his breath as he opened her bedroom door so it formed the smallest possible wedge. He shoved her suitcase inside like it was on fire, then closed the door quietly. He wasn’t getting stuck in that trap again.
He walked across the hall and tossed his duffel on the bed there. The room was bigger, comfy and cozy with older furnishings, but also devoid of any sign anyone had actually lived here. So, fine. He’d take the master and be okay with it. He supposed, technically, as the owner on the deed for this house, this was his room by right, even if it was weird to sleep in the room his grandparents had occupied.
He unzipped the second, larger bag. He took out the cameras and lined them up on the antique writing desk. His grandfather would grumble if he discovered Jas was drilling holes in the historic house, but again, it was Jas’s house. And they needed cameras. He’d install them around the perimeter once there was more light.
He gathered up some basic gadgets and headed downstairs. No alarm system, which he’d also have to figure out. For now he installed a simple doorstop at each door. The metal stick wedged under the doorknob wasn’t the most sophisticated way to keep intruders out, but it would be effective enough for warning him if someone was entering the place. At each window he attached a high-decibel alarm sensor that would shriek if it was opened or the glass was broken.
Did he actually think someone would hurt Katrina? Not really. He genuinely believed it would be difficult for anyone to get through all the digital roadblocks he had in place to protect her home address.
At the same time, he also understood her reaction. The potential threat of doxxing was scary enough for people who hadn’t been through what she had.
Jas shuddered, recalling the day of the incident. Her security had claimed they’d barely been a couple feet behind her. They’d heard a noise, glanced away for a second, maybe two, and she’d been gone. It had taken one whole harrowing day for the ransom call to come. Jas had been there a few days later for the handoff in the parking lot behind a deserted warehouse. Would he ever be able to forget the way Katrina had looked when she’d stumbled out of the van? Dirty, small, still in the now-torn clothes she’d been abducted in. Bleeding.
He shook his head. No, he’d been too far away to see the blood at first. It was only in his nightmares that he could see each drop of blood curving down her smooth cheek.