(Present)

We spend hours at the police station filling out useless fucking paperwork and answering the same questions over and over again. That’s one thing I don’t miss about working out in the open. You could fucking drown in paperwork. You have to file a fucking report to ask permission to wipe your ass. That’s how fucking bad the bureaucracy is around here. When we are finally done, Wyatt takes us to one of the empty interrogation rooms.

“You could have called me before you went ahead with your plan,” Wyatt scolds.

“I handled it,” I reply.

“You got caught in a shoot-out, that’s not handling it,” Wyatt replies. “Why didn’t you talk some sense into him?” he asks Shay.

“It was kind of last minute and the plan was pretty simple.”

“So why didn’t you follow it?” I ask her.

“Oh, you mean why didn’t I drive off and let you get shot? No idea,” she replies sardonically.

“I appreciate that you stayed behind for me but—” I begin.

She holds out her hand and cuts me off. “No! That’s not how it’s done, Logan. You can’t say you appreciate what I did and then in the same breath scold me for it.”

“Look, I’m glad you provided a distraction,” I reply.

“Then maybe say ‘thank you’ and save the reprimand,” she snaps.

“Thank you. There, happy?” I reply.

“Argh! You are so difficult!” she accuses.

“Me?! How hard is it to drive away, Shay?”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” she demands. “You could have gotten hurt. I’m sorry that I’m not okay with that,” she counters heatedly.

“Hey! Can we focus?” Wyatt demands.

“Fine. What do you know about the guys that came after us?” she asks, making sure to turn her body so that I note she is no longer interested in talking to me.

ARGH!

“I know they shot at us but they weren’t a real threat. How could they miss the shoe thing? That’s amateurish. I didn’t bring my gun because the store was full of customers but even without it, taking them down wasn’t as hard as it should have been,” I tell Wyatt.

“I think I know why,” he says as he shows us the files he has on the guys we took down.

“They’re low-level goons with no real skill. Why would the families send them?” I ask.

“I had the same question you did. So I checked deeper into Malone’s background. He was cheating on his wife, had a couple of girls in fact. He abused them all. A few of them filed charges. They were later dropped but I think both families are tired of covering for Malone. In fact, according to the wiretap we have from a few days ago, they are vetting possible replacements for their beloved money guy.”

“So the mob doesn’t care about Malone anymore, that’s good, right?” Shay asks. Wyatt and I exchange worried glances. Fuck.

“Yes, in a way. It means he’s on his own. He has to show them he can take care of this problem but if he can’t and you testify against him, he’s not going to jail, he’s headed for the morgue,” I explain.

“So, while he was eager before to shut you up, now it’s a matter of life and death for him. He has to take you out. Right now, it’s him or you,” Wyatt says.

“That’s it, we’re leaving town. We’ll be back for the trial,” I conclude as I stand up.

“What? No, what about the center?” Shay asks, getting up on her feet.

“We are not arguing about this. We agreed if something happened—”

She cuts me off. “Logan, you said those guys weren’t that much of a threat.”

“So your plan is to wait around for the real bad guys to show up?” I ask.

“We’re close to the trial. We can stay in town but just hide out here.”

“What is it you don’t get? The families, both of them, are on the verge of killing Malone. The only way he can prove to them he’s worth the trouble is by clearing up his own mess. That means he needs you in the morgue. Do you get that?”

“Can you stop bullying me?”

“I’m not—” I force myself to take a deep breath. I know Shay and if she feels like she’s being pushed, she’ll only fight back harder. “Shay, I just want you to be safe. You can’t go back to the center. Please tell me you know that,” I push.

“Okay, fine. I won’t go back but the center stays open. I’ll organize the ceremony for the women from the hotel. Kat will watch over everything for me.”

“If you’re doing that, then why not leave town and come back?” I reply.

“Because it makes it look like I am running away and there’s no fucking way I’m going to let that asshole run me out of New York,” she barks.

“You are so fucking hardheaded,” I spit as I rake my hands through my hair.

“If it was the other way around, you would have stayed in town. So how come you get to stay and make a stand but I have to run away? Just because you’re a guy?” she says.

“Really? You think this is about you being a woman? I don’t care what sex you are. If you were a guy I’d tell you that same shit. We need to get out of town,” I insist.

“Okay, both of you shut up! I’ve been in this room with murderers and psychopaths and they behaved better than you two. Now, sit down, shut the hell up and listen,” Wyatt orders. Shay and I glare at each other and sit back down.

“He’s right, Shay, you need to leave town. But it will need to be tomorrow because the DA wants to prep you for trial. That means he’ll need you back here in the morning to go over your testimony. After that, Logan can take you away.”

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” she asks Wyatt.

Wyatt and I reply at the same time in a firm and resolute tone.

“Hell no.”

***

Kat meets us at the police station and I let the two of them talk alone. I don’t know what they say but they go through a roller coaster of emotions judging from their body language. I see the two of them worry together, arguing over something, and then console each other. And moments before Kat leaves, she hands Shay a glossy black-and-gold box. The two of them laugh and embrace.

Women.

After we say good-bye to Kat, I drive us back to the hotel. The drive is mostly silent. I think she’s too busy hating me to make conversation. I don’t care, she can hate me if she wants, I need her safe. I should have gotten her away from here the moment I came back. Someone shot at her. That was my fault but after the trial prep, we are leaving, no matter what. I would like to ask what’s in the box but something tells me now is not the time.

When we get back to the hotel, I can tell something is off with her. She looks on edge but then again, I guess it’s what happens when someone shoots at you. I guess I’m used to it. Hell, I find it odd when no one is taking a shot at me. It usually means I’m on the wrong track.

On her way to the bedroom, Shay stops off and eyes the minibar. She opens it and ogles a bar of chocolate as if it stood between life and death. She bites her lower lips, sighs, and goes into the bedroom. I think I know what’s up. I call room service and soon they bring up a tray of the items I asked for.

It’s half an hour later when I enter her room and place the tray on her bed. She enters wearing a plush white robe, fresh from her hot shower. Her hair is swept up in a messy ponytail and her face is makeup free and glowing. She’s sexy as fuck! And what’s even better, she’s not even trying to look good. She’s just naturally radiant. I suppress the feral growl that comes when I think about what’s under the robe.

“What’s all this?” she asks as she looks over at the small tray of various items I placed on her bed.

“I ordered a few things to help with the cramps.”

“What? I don’t have cramps,” she lies. I smile to myself. “What’s so funny?” she asks.

“I forgot how stubborn you can be when it comes to admitting things like having cramps, or a headache, or even a hangnail. You thought all those things made you sound weak and you hated to let anyone know you were in pain.”

“I don’t do that,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

“When you got your period you always tried to pull away like it was something you had to deal with on your own. And I was good with that so long as it was what you wanted. So, I’d buy the things you like to eat and make sure the pain relievers were there for you but keep my distance. Then came that weekend we went camping…”

“I remember that, it was the worst cramps I’ve ever had in my life. We were nowhere near a store, the car wouldn’t start, and I thought I’d pass out from the pain,” she admits.

“You were moaning, doubled over, and snapped at me because I handed you a water bottle and you didn’t like the angle I was holding it.”

“Oh my god, yes! I was such a bitch! And you stayed so calm and you let me act crazy. I was a terror that whole night. When we got back home, you went out and came back with cupcakes, pills, and a hot water bottle. I know I said I loved you before then but that was the moment I really fell in love.”

“I felt bad that I didn’t think to pack the things that you needed on the camping trip.”

“It wasn’t your fault my period came early, and you were great. The truth is, after that night, I pictured you running away as fast as you could,” she says.

“Not a chance. I loved that you were so self-confident and tough as hell when it came to protecting the women of the center. But honestly, it was nice to know that you needed me. I thought well, that will probably never happen again. You’ll never let me see that side of you. A month later, I called you and told you that I would bring home the cupcakes and pain pills. I asked if you needed anything else, and you said, ‘Yes, I need you. Come home.’”

“I remember that. You got really quiet on the phone,” she says as she studies my eyes.

“Because I couldn’t believe you actually said it. And while I was sorry that you were in pain every month, it was a fucking honor to be the one that got to hold you and take care of you. Anyway, maybe I misread it. Maybe you were just craving a candy bar,” I reply as I start to leave the room.

“Okay, okay. I have cramps. My lower abdomen hurts and so does my back. I have a headache and I feel like a defective faucet that’s been returned to Home Depot,” she says miserably as she slumps down onto the edge of the bed. I sit beside her and move the tray so she can pick out what she wants. She looks everything over and beams: chocolate cupcakes, pain relievers, and a hot water bottle. She bursts out crying.

“Anika, what’s wrong?”

I’m completely taken aback. I tell her it’s going to be okay and pull her into my chest. I can’t make out what she’s saying; she’s too busy being swallowed up by loud sobs to make sense. I can’t stand to watch a woman cry; I always feel so fucking powerless. But when it’s my woman crying, that shit is hard as fuck to take in.

My woman?

“Talk to me, what is it?” I ask.

“Kat got me some silk lingerie that I wanted to wear tonight. I was supposed to walk in here, put it on, and then strut around the hotel room and it was supposed to get your attention. But I have my period, I feel as sexy as a sack of potatoes, and I can’t strut. Then you do this really sweet thing for me and…” She starts crying again. I can’t help but smile; so that’s what was in the box. Man, this woman will be the fucking death of me.

“First, you have to stop crying, okay? There’s no reason to cry,” I reply, concerned.

“Sorry. I swear the universe is playing a joke on women by giving them periods. It’s not even a good joke. It’s a lame ‘knock-knock” kind of thing,” she says, trying to get herself together.

“Here take these,” I reply as I hand her a bottle of water to down the low-dose pain relievers. She takes them and drinks the water. She thanks me and bites into her cupcake. She rolls her eyes with pleasure. I smile back at her; relieved she’s no longer crying and soon will no longer be in pain. I place the tray on the side table a few feet away and then tuck her in. I hand her the hot water bottle and ask if she needs anything else.

“Can you stay?”

I should say no. I should keep my distance until I work out where we stand, but the chance to hold her, especially when she’s so vulnerable, is rare. There’s no fucking way I will pass up this chance to be here for her. I take my boots off but keep everything else on. That way, I won’t give in to my urges. I get behind her, under the covers, and prop my head on one hand. I pull her close against me.

God, I love this woman…

She’s about to drift off, I can hear it in her voice as she speaks. “Sorry I didn’t get to wear the silky lingerie thing.”

I lower my head and confess in her ear, “You don’t need lingerie, Anika. You already have my attention.”