CELIA

Present Day

James took me to my dorm room and together, we boxed up my few possessions so I could move in to the safe house. Amy poked her head into the room while James and I were busy.

"What's up?" she asked, frowning when she saw James. "Who are you?"

James was wearing his sober blue suit and looked official. He stood up from the box he was taping shut.

"I'm James," he said and smiled. "A friend."

Amy turned to me, her eyes wide. I stood up from my own box and exhaled, wondering how I'd explain things. I brushed the hair from my face and shrugged.

"James is a friend," I said, hoping she'd believe me. "He's helping me move some stuff."

"Where?" she said, not letting up. "You never said anything about moving. What happened?"

I glanced at James, who returned to his box. "I'm moving in with Hunter," I said lightly. Then I returned to packing my own box, hoping to avoid too much of a long explanation.

"What?"

Of course, I was foolish to think I could get away without a complete debrief.

"Hunter?" she said when I continued packing, her mouth open wide. "The Hunter? As in Hunter Saint?"

"The very one," I replied, wishing she'd just get the hint and leave.

"And you were going to tell me when?"

I stood up again, exasperated. "Look, I'm sorry, but some stuff happened and I haven't had time to talk to you."

"Your best friend? You didn't have time to talk to me about moving out and moving in with Hunter Saint? You've never heard of a thing called texting? Your fingers broken or something?"

"Amy, I'm sorry, but can I talk to you later about all this?" I made a helpless face, shrugging my shoulders. "I promise I'll explain everything. And I'm not really moving out permanently. It's just temporary, okay?"

She frowned and glanced between me and James, who I could tell was trying to look inconspicuous.

"You're okay, though, right?" she asked and came over to me, her hand on my arm. "There's nothing wrong? You're not in any danger?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Things have happened and, well, I can't say anything right now." I tilted my head to the side, gesturing to James. "I wanted to talk to you about it, but I couldn't. I promise I'll tell you later tonight, okay?" I made a face of regret.

"If you say so," she said, and I could hear the hesitation in her voice. "As long as you're really okay…"

"I am. I'm fine," I replied.

"Okay," she said and glanced around. "Do you need any help?"

I shook my head, wanting her to leave so I didn't have to explain who James was. "No," I said and glanced around. "We're pretty much done."

"Where are you staying?" she asked. "At the gym? Does Hunter still live there?"

"No," I said and handed the box to James. "At one of Hunter's other properties."

"Where?" she asked, her expression hopeful. "I'll come and visit you."

I shrugged and made a face. "I can't tell you."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"Security reasons?" I said and cringed. "I can't tell you anything more than that."

"What?" she said and glanced between James and me again. "You are in danger, right? Something to do with Hunter's family business?"

"No, I'm not in any real danger. Hunter has a lot of security, for obvious reasons," I said, wishing she would stop questioning everything, but I knew it was because she was worried about me. "I'm fine," I said. "Really."

"This is about the bad guys who beat up Graham, right?"

"Yes," I said, exasperated, deciding to satisfy her. "This is about that. But you can't say anything about it to anyone, especially not Spencer if he comes by."

"Are they back from Europe? I thought they weren't back for a while."

"Not yet, but in case he comes by or anyone comes by asking about me. Tell them I moved out and you don't know where I am."

"All right, Ms. Mysterious. I won't tell anyone. But I don’t like this whole clandestine business. You should be telling me. I'm the best friend, remember?"

"You are," I said and went to her, hugging her.

She squeezed me and then pulled back. "Text me later tonight, okay? Promise?"

I nodded. "Promise."

Then, with clear reluctance, she left, closing the door to my apartment behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," I said to James. "She's my best friend and has been for years. She's just worried about me."

"Completely understandable." James picked up a box and went to the door. "I'll take these out to the vehicle."

"I'll help," I said and together, we packed the SUV with the few boxes of my things, clothes, computer, books. Lots of books. The apartment was now empty except for my furniture.

When we were done, I stood at the door and glanced around the apartment. Hunter would pay off my room and board, but I wasn't going to live there for my own safety. Finally, I closed the door, feeling sad that a part of my life was gone—the ‘independent me’ part of my life. The girl who had finally escaped Spencer's tyranny and was living free and on her own. Now, I'd be some gangster's fuck toy, living in his safe house for my own protection and for his ease of use.

I hated that the idea of being his to use excited me, but it was Hunter.

The man I'd been fantasizing about half my life.

After we unloaded the boxes back at the safe house, I went to class. James drove me to the building, waited for the class to finish, and then took me to the hospital so I could drop in and check on Graham, but he was gone to physio and wouldn’t be back for an hour. I decided to go see him later and left him a note on a sticky I had in my book bag. Then James drove me back to the warehouse.

I went inside to find that there were construction guys on site, busy installing drywall and another crew working on a bathroom. Now that I had the time, I could explore the loft a bit more.

A new kitchen sat at the far end of the space, with an island and a bank of cupboards facing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. It was high-end, the fixtures and cupboards top of the line. A huge marble-top island contained a sink and professional stove and the fridge was so big you could practically store a dead body in it.

George was there, working in a small office near the entry. He came over when he saw me.

"Hello, Miss Celia," he said with a smile. "Your classes finished for the day?"

I nodded. "This is all new," I said and glanced around.

"Yes," he said. "Boss wanted to make comfortable. Is going to be very secure when everything finished. Thick walls. Steel doors. Security cameras on perimeter. No one will be able to get near building without us knowing. You will be safe here."

Then he pointed to a small alcove where James was busy stacking the boxes from my dorm room.

"I buy you desk so you can work," George said. "I hope you like."

I went over and ran my hand along the modular desk. It had a hutch with cupboards and drawers and was in a dark cherry wood. It was expensive. Much more so than anything I'd ever owned before.

"It's a lot better than my desk at the dorm," I said with a laugh, thinking of the rickety old student desk I'd left.

George smiled at me again. "If you need anything, just ask. I am your keeper while Hunter is away."

I nodded. "Thanks."

Then I began unpacking my boxes and getting my computer set up, resigned to my new reality.

After I finished organizing my books and files, I glanced around. Several workers were finishing a new bathroom, installing a tub and sink. They were working fast, and before the end of the afternoon, the walls to the bathroom had gone up and drywall was in place, the sections taped and mudded. It wasn't the best environment for studying, and I finally gave up and sat on the sofa and watched television for a while.

Different contractors came in that evening, putting down flooring in the bathroom and cleaning up. George came over to me and pointed at the bathroom.

"Is yours to use," he said, apparently pleased with it. "I pick best fixtures and colors. I hope you like."

I looked inside. It was ostentatious, with gilded faucets, marble countertops, and granite tiles on the two-person shower. A fantastic tub. All of it looked out over the bay.

"Blinds are inside windows," George said and pressed a switch that closed the blinds, blocking out the light. He opened them again. "You can put things in," he said and opened the vanity mirror. "I bring towels and soaps." He went to a bag beside the bathroom and sure enough, there were thick plush towels and bars of soap.

"It's very nice."

He smiled, pleased with the bathroom.

"Are you staying here, too?" I asked, noticing the small military cot beside his bank of security cameras in his office.

"When Hunter isn't here, twenty-four seven," he said and nodded. "You don't have to worry. You're safe here with us."

"Who are you to Hunter?" I asked, curious about the man and his relationship to Hunter.

"We work together in Afghanistan. We trust each other," he said. "He save my life many times. He is good man, Celia."

"Good men don't get messed up with the mafia," I said, unable to bite my tongue. For all I knew, George might be in the Russian mob.

"Sometimes good men do bad things for greater good," George said and shrugged. "I know Hunter for several years. He is best, very honorable. Hero."

I didn't say anything else, because there was no sense arguing with someone who was obviously a good friend and employee.

I used to think Hunter was a good man, but he seemed to be quite happy to get down and dirty with the Russian mob, being just as bad as they were—beating people up like Stepan, partying with them at his clubs, doing business with them. He was on a first-name basis with Stepan and his ilk. From what I understood, Hunter was still running fights at the gym and there would be illegal betting involved, and who knew what else.

While I had no love for the thug Hunter had beat up and was glad he was paying for what he’d done to Graham, I believed in law and order, not vigilante justice. By beating Stepan up, Hunter had reduced himself to Stepan's level. That was the only conclusion you could draw from what he did. I remembered a quote from my philosophy class on Nietzsche and quoted it, not expecting George to know it.

"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster."

George made a face, pursing his lips. "And if you gaze long into abyss, abyss will also gaze into you." Then he smiled.

"You know Nietzsche," I said, pleasantly surprised.

"I am old," he said with a laugh. "I spend many hours in desert waiting for fight to start. Books get you through long waits." He shook his head. "Hunter is not monster."

"So you say." I forced a smile, starting to feel a grudging admiration for George. I wasn't going to argue with him about how much of a monster Hunter had become. He obviously thought very highly of Hunter.

I glanced around the large space. "I unpacked my things," I said with a sigh. "If I'm going to be here for the duration, I might as well get comfortable."

"Hunter will protect you," George said, nodding. "Until all blows over."

"All what blows over?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"This problem with Romanovs. Once they are gone, you will be safe."

"Gone where?" I frowned. Was Hunter planning to kill the Romanovs?

He shrugged. "Prison? Back to Russia?" Then he ran a finger across his neck and raised his eyebrows. I knew what that meant…

I shuddered. "I hope Hunter won't kill anyone."

"He is soldier," George said. "He fights for what he loves. Friends, family. Country. He is honorable man."

"You keep saying that, but if he's involved with the mafia, that's not honorable."

"Fight fire with fire." George shrugged once more like he was helpless. "We shall see."

Then he left me alone to wonder what he meant.