FIVE
Ellie locked the door behind him, watching it for a minute as if she expected it to burst open. She shook her head, moving to go sit on the folding chair. She needed to calm down. So, he found her. He had found her before. She would be fine. She was always fine.
And now she had Xander Rhodes on her side.
She leaned forward, elbows on her thighs and buried her head in her hands. She felt the nausea rising in her throat. Out of guilt, she realized with blinding clarity. She was literally sick with guilt for getting him involved. Because if she had told him what she told the other private investigators, there was no way he would want to take the case. He would tell her to go to the cops. He would tell her he couldn't put himself in that kind of danger.
Hell, she didn't even know what she expected him to do about it. Find dirt? Find enemies? It wasn't like he could... permanently handle the situation.
Especially since she couldn't even pay him.
If he knew how dangerous this case really was...
Ellie jumped out out of the chair, feeling restless. She moved around the office, straightening piles of paperwork. She peeked in and out of cabinets until she finally found cleaning supplies. She spent the next hour wiping down all the surfaces in the office with a rag and multipurpose spray. She filled a bucket with hot, soapy water and, not finding an actual mop, set off to scrub the floor on her hands and knees.
She hadn't always been a neat freak. As a child and adolescent, she had been quite a slob, throwing her clothes all over her room, books scattered around everywhere, cobwebs hanging eerily in the corners of her room like forgotten Halloween decorations.
It wasn't until... until him. Until what it meant to be around him: the utter powerlessness. She picked up cleaning, a small habit at first. There was just a need to have the surfaces in the bathroom clean and the dishes done. It slowly evolved into an obsessive habit. Suddenly she needed to have every surface spotless, every carpet vacuumed, every hard floor scrubbed. Until her hands were raw from the hot water and bleach. Until she wore holes in the knees of her pants.
It was the only thing she could control.
She got up a half an hour later, having backed herself into the hallway. It was better, she thought, feeling the ever-present weight on her chest slip slightly away. Moving into the bathroom, she repeated the process. Spray, wipe, scrub. Spray, wipe, scrub. Until the skin under her short fingernails was bleeding slightly.
She sighed, dumping the contents of the bucket and throwing away the newly threadbare rag. She washed her hands, looking down at the tiny hole she had worn in Xander's pajama pants. When she felt safe enough to leave the office again, she was going to buy him a new pair. Even if she had to ship them while on the run. It was literally the least she could do.
Moving to the kitchen, she cleaned up the mess she had made from breakfast, looking at the coffee pot distastefully. There was a time when she loved coffee. She drank it with just a splash of skim milk. Sometimes she would have ten cups a day. On the weekends she used to enjoy going to specialty coffee shops and critiquing the different flavors and roasts. With him. She did all of that with him.
It was all about the tea since then, providing a similar kick of energy... without all the unpleasant memories.
The papers were still sitting on the dining table and she tried to sit and read them, but found all the news depressing, so she stacked them neatly and went to make Xander's bed. Despite not having actually slept underneath the blankets, he had still managed to muss them into a pretty mess. God, when was the last time she had actually gotten up out of bed and got ready for her day without having given a second thought to the sheets not being straightened? Years, she decided grimly. It had been years.
She moved to sit on the red couch, staring off into hall, trying to convince herself that being a little bit obsessive-compulsive wasn't always a bad thing. It came in handy when she was on the run. She kept very few things on her when she moved from place to place so there wasn't a need for a long, drawn-out event to be made out of leaving one place for another. There was no mementos to be left behind and missed dearly. No random pieces of paper betraying her next move.
It kept her safer.
Standing up, she walked over to the closet Xander had reached in for hangers. If she hadn't been mistaken, it was a closet he seemed to be trying to hide from her. She never considered herself a nosy person, but curiosity was getting the better of her. She pulled the door open and her breath escaped her lips in a whoosh.
Because there attached to the inside of the door was the widest assortment of weapons she had ever seen. And considering where she had come from, that was saying something. There were things she recognized: brass knuckles, cans of pepper spray, knives, three different kinds of tasers. She pulled out a small metal rod-shaped object, looking at it curiously, before swinging out with it and watching it extend. A baton. Then there was something plastic that wrapped around your knuckles with a few metal plates in the front. She decided it must have been some kind of stun-gun you wore on your fist. Which was a really cool idea. Then at the bottom was an assortment of chains and handcuffs. No guns. She wondered if the one in his drawer was the only one he had. Judging by his assortment of other self-defense weapons, that probably wasn't the case.
Were those kinds of weapons even legal?
She closed the door, moving away from it, feeling a strange wave of relief. If he was the kind of man who was willing to own that many illegal weapons, then he was just the right kind of dangerous she needed on her side.
There was a loud rapping on the front door, making her jump and back up several feet, her heart flying into her throat. She looked at the solid glass windows in dismay, then at the closet of pain and death with a sort of resignation. She could use one of those weapons. If she really needed to, she could do it. She felt herself moving toward it when a voice yelled through the door, loud and impatient.
"Open up, sweetheart. I'm not gonna murder you," Xander called.
Ellie's hand fell from the doorknob, moving through to the office with a fist of fear still settled deeply in her stomach. She unlocked the door, stepping back from it quickly.
Xander walked in, looking at Ellie, her eyes wide and fearful. She was standing slightly on her toes, looking like she was one wrong move away from running out the door. Her hands were balled into fists at her side. He felt himself smile, shaking his head.
"I went to your apartment," he said, holding out the plastic container as evidence. "I brought back some stuff for you. As pretty as you may look all swallowed up in my clothes," he said, smiling a little charmingly, "I figured you might want your own stuff."
Pretty? He thought she looked pretty? Ellie shook her head at herself. He was just being nice. Besides, it didn't even remotely matter if he did think she was pretty.
Xander walked over to the desk, putting the plastic container on top and reaching inside. He pulled out all her clothes, putting them in a pile next to his paperwork. She immediately went to them, pulling them toward her and starting to fold them neatly. "Clothes," he said, pulling items out of the box. "Your wallet, money, bath products, sneakers, your keys with that nifty little self-defense key chain," he said, dangling it in front of her, "and these books..." he said, barely getting them out of the box before she reached out and snatched the out of his hands.
He tilted his head, watching her as she sat down and pulled them to her chest. She was actually hugging the books. He laughed quickly, covering his mouth and pretending to cough. Who the hell hugged their books?
She looked up at him self-consciously, giving him a small smile. "These have sentimental value," she explained. They were the only things she owned anymore that did.
"Obviously," he said, suddenly looking around the room, sniffing the air. He looked back at her, his eyes squinting. "Did you clean?"
"Oh," she said, her mouth falling slightly open, making her look almost pouty. "Um... yeah. I... I clean when I'm... stressed. I'm sorry," she said, standing and putting the books on the desk. "I promise I didn't mess anything up. I picked things up and cleaned underneath and put everything right back where..."
"Relax, sweetheart," he said, smiling a bit at her. She looked so frazzled, so worried. Like he was going to throw her out for dusting. "It's fine. Thank you, actually," he said, looking around. Had he ever actually cleaned the place, he wondered? If the floors were actually supposed to be somewhat shiny... then, no, he hadn't ever cleaned them.
"So, I talked to your neighbor," he said, watching her carefully pile all the items back in the plastic container, perfectly in order, nothing overlapping. The books, however, she left on the desk.
Ellie's face shot up. "Mary?"
Xander's eyes widened for a second. Had he actually forgotten to get the woman's name? Christ, he was getting sloppy. "The lady across the hall," he hedged, praying she wouldn't see his incompetence.
"Yeah," Ellie said, watching him. What could Mary possibly have to say? The two of them had never even spoken.
"Apparently, she is home all the time..."
"She breeds Minskins for a living," Ellie supplied.
"What the fuck is a Minskin?" Xander asked, sitting down in his desk chair.
"It's a cat," Ellie said, smiling at him. "It's a cross between a Sphynx and Munchkin."
Xander screwed up his eyebrows at her. "So, it's... short and hairless?" he asked, not quite wanting to believe that people would actually want something like that.
"Exactly," she said, looking wistful.
"You couldn't have seriously wanted one of those," Xander said, watching her.
Caught, Ellie shook her head quickly. "No. No. I don't have time for a cat."
But she wanted one. It wasn't exactly a high maintenance pet. They generally couldn't care less if you were gone all day at work so long as they were fed. If she liked cats, she had to have known that. So what was the real reason she didn't get one? And how did she know so much about Mary, when Mary didn't even know her name?
"Well, anyway," he said, shaking off his suspicious train of thought. "She almost called the cops last night," he said and watched the panic rise up on her face. So there was some kind of issue with the cops. What the hell had she gotten herself into? "But she decided against it and called the super instead. He came in and checked things out, but you were already gone. And then she said that this morning, three men showed up there." Her usually quite expressive face suddenly fell away, pushed behind a strange mask of indifference. "They picked the locks and were inside for a few minutes before leaving."
"Weird," Ellie said, feeling her belly twist. He had come back. So he knew she hadn't fled the city. How could he possibly have known that?
"Yeah. And he left all your stuff," Xander said, motioning to her wallet and wad of cash. Which had to be at least a hundred and fifty in small bills. "Unless there's something missing here that I didn't find."
There was her packed suitcase buried underneath her bed, but she wasn't going to talk about that. Ellie took a breath, trying to find the words. "No, I don't think so." Aside from her necklace. Which had been on her bedside table where she always kept it. It was a single diamond on a silver chain. She kept it as a reminder of why she needed to be aware, why she needed to constantly start new lives in new cities. Because it wasn't really a necklace. It was more like a collar.
"Alright," Xander said, not quite believing her, but not having the time to beat around the bush with her. He had a paying client he needed to get to.
Why would she be lying? Or, if she wasn't quite lying, why would she be omitting things? Like what the deal with the cops was. She couldn't possibly think he would turn her over, could she? His job was to figure out her stalker situation and handle it, not judge her for whatever past indiscretions she may have gotten wrapped up in.
And why was she so nervous and jumpy? Why had it crossed her mind to buy a key chain weapon? Even if she had been stalked since she moved to the city, he couldn't imagine her getting so wrapped up in it that fast. Especially if there weren't threats and attempts to talk to her before the night before.
Most stalker victims try to downplay it, shrug it off, be a little more careful about walking at night, make sure they locked their doors.
But it seemed like it permeated every aspect of Ellie's life. She didn't have a cell phone or a laptop. He assumed she wasn't on any kind of social media.
And a deep, increasingly undeniable part of himself was sure that she was hiding something. Something big.
"Where is all your stuff? There was nothing at your apartment," he said, before he could talk himself out of it. It was stupid to feel like he was prying. He needed to pry. Her safety depended on it.
"Oh," she said, detecting the distrust in his voice with a falling feeling in her stomach. "I wasn't sure I would be staying here," she said. It was true enough. "New city and all... I wasn't sure I would like it. So, I kept all my stuff in storage." Lies. Lies. She was really going to have to work to keep all her lies straight.
"Back in Orlando?" Xander asked, trying to trip her up.
"Portland," Ellie corrected, her eyebrows drawing down. Had he actually forgotten? Or was he trying to catch her in a lie? For once, though, it wasn't a lie. She had been in Portland. She'd worked in a little indie coffeehouse and slept in what she could only describe as some sort of hippie commune.
"Right," Xander nodded. "Portland." He paused, looking at her black eye, which had yellow starting to weave its way around the blue and purple, and felt guilty. Even if she was trying to cover up some kind of law-breaking... she had been through an ordeal just the night before. And she had been stalked for several months before that. She was understandably distrustful. "How do your ribs feel today?" he asked.
"Oh, they're fine. I've had worse," she said, her eyes widening immediately. What did she just admit? "I... I'm really clumsy. I've broken ribs in the past," she covered, hoping she was being at least a little convincing. She had learned all kinds of stories to tell the hospital in the past. She fell down a flight of stairs, got kicked by a horse... anything to keep them from asking those questions while he loomed just out of eyesight. "They really only bother me when I reach above my head. You did a good wrapping job," she said, smiling weakly.
"I've had practice," he said, chuckling. "You wanna go grab a shower? I'll help you wrap up again when you're done."
Ellie jumped up, grabbing clothes and her bath products. "That would be great. I'll be out in ten," she said, scurrying off to the bathroom.
Xander leaned back in his chair, making it teeter back on two legs. What was the end game here? He didn't have much of anything to go on about her stalker. Granted, he needed to get a good physical description from her and get a mock-up made so he could start searching some databases, but even that was a long shot. So if he wasn't able to find the stalker and either scare the living shit out of him, or turn him over to the authorities... what was there to do? Would he just buy her a ticket back to Portland? That was probably for the best. She needed to get back around family and friends. She certainly couldn't live on his couch indefinitely.
The water turned on and he tried like hell to not think about her naked in there, soaping herself up. She was too damn gorgeous for her own good.
She called him in a few minutes later, holding her sweater up above her breasts. She had a pretty gray and white bra on and he tried to not look at it, but couldn't help but notice the swell of her breasts above the cups, the slightly pointed peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric.
She didn't smell like him anymore. She smelled like her soaps. It was something honey and vanilla. Sweet... and he found himself leaning closer as he wrapped her stomach to breathe it in. Feeling creepy, he shook his head and moved back.
What was wrong with him?
Ellie tried not to breathe. It was stupid. But it had been so long since anyone put hands on her and it felt a little too good. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she looked at herself in the mirror. Taking in her less-fat, but still cut lip and her black eye and reminding herself: this is what happens when you let men get close.
Xander stood up slowly, reaching for her sweater when she didn't immediately pull it down. She was staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes looking haunted, far away. When she felt him grab her shirt, she flung her hands outward, simultaneously trying to pull her sweater with one and hit him with the other. Instinctual. And he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that there was something she wasn't telling him. It was as if anytime someone went to touch her, they meant her harm. And despite getting banged up the night before, that wasn't exactly a normal response to a one-time attack. "Just pulling your shirt down, sweetheart," he said, trying to make his tone quiet, reassuring.
"Oh," she said, looking at her hand in horror. Had she just hit him? She needed to get a hold of herself. She was losing it. "Sorry... I just..."
"Don't apologize," he said, moving away, giving her some space. He watched her, looking down at her hand like it was an alien, and a part of him went out to her. "Do you want to go on a stakeout?" he asked, not even realizing what he was going to ask her until it was out of his mouth.
Ellie almost laughed. It was the kind of things you heard in movies or read in books. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone actually expects to hear in real life. "To catch a cheating scumbag?" she asked, a smile toying with the ends of her lips. He nodded at her. "Where?" she asked, thinking about being anywhere near where he might be, and feeling her skin start to crawl.
"Well the wife lives on Central Park West," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "but he keeps his mistress in the Financial District."
"Classy," Ellie grumbled.
"I am gonna get Gabe," he said, looking at her, "the guy at the bond place next door," he explained, "to give me his car. You can bring a book."
Ellie thought about more time spent alone in the apartment, the walls closing in, each noise making her even more paranoid... and agreed quickly. "Let me just grab my shoes," she said, moving past him into the office.
Gabe's office was the absolute opposite of Xander's. Where Xander's was all dated and unorganized, Gabe's was pristine and new. The walls were a deep gray, all the furniture black. Ellie looked into the corners and behind the door and didn't see a cobweb or dust bunny anywhere.
"Get your ass out here," Xander called after waiting a few long minutes.
Gabe walked out a second later, a cell phone to his ear. Ellie felt her brows go up. He was really good looking. In a he knew he was really good looking kind of way. He was tall and slim in black jeans and a slim-cut black button-up shirt. He walked quickly over toward Xander, his face passive. But his hips pivoted and his arm cocked backward and started to thrust forward.
All of her self-defense classes from back in Seattle flew in front of her eyes. Her hand shot out, grabbing his fist as her own slammed into his throat. She heard a strangled "no", not realizing it came from her.
Gabe made a choking sound, bending forward, trying to catch his breath. His phone flew to the ground, bouncing slightly in its rubber case.
Xander had barely seen it, she had moved so fast. One moment she was just standing there next to him, the next, she had yelled and sent a chisel fist to Gabe's throat. He watched as Gabe folded forward on himself for a second, strangling to catch a decent breath. His eyes went to Ellie's then, wide and desperate.
Ellie watched as he started to stand straight again, looking up at her. She felt herself grab Xander's arm, pulling, trying to pull him with her as she moved backward toward the door.
Xander caught the odd look from Gabe, a look that suggested he understood in a heartbeat what had he had learned over the past day: Ellie had been abused by a guy in her life. And she was, naturally, suspicious of all men since.
He reached behind him, taking hold of Ellie's arm and pulling her quickly forward. His arm went down heavy on her shoulders, holding her close to his side. "It's alright," he said, looking down at the top of her head. "He was just being a dick," he explained. "He isn't going to hurt either of us."
Gabe rubbed absently at his throat, looking at her. He smiled, a slow forming, charming grin. "Hell," he said, almost laughing, "that was impressive. No one ever gets the drop on me. Where did you learn that?"
Ellie felt mortification rising like bile in her throat, making her chest feel tight and her face feel hot. "I... took a self-defense class at a Y once," she started, looking at her feet. "I'm so so sorry," she said, looking up at him and feeling another wave of shame.
Gabe waved a hand, as if dismissing the subject. "Don't be. That was good. Next time," he said, watching her with his observant hazel eyes, "throw more of your weight into it. Pivot your hip more. You're small. If you want the guy to go down... you need to throw everything into it."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, offering him a small, embarrassed smile, suddenly too distracted by the arm around her shoulders to focus much on the man in front of her. He had her pulled up against him, their bodies touching from the top of her head to their feet. And a very strong, very disconcerting part of her wanted to turn slightly and bury her face in his chest.
"You need the car?" Gabe asked, finally looking back at Xander. The guy was so screwed and he hadn't even figured it out yet.
"Yeah," Xander agreed. "What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing," Gabe said, shaking his head. "You want the black outs or no?"
Xander looked down at Ellie for a quick second. Why was he still holding her? And why had she maneuvered herself closer, the side of her face brushing his ribs? She would probably feel safer with blacked-out windows. "Yeah," he said, watching as Gabe nodded, moving toward his desk with a sly grin still in place.
He pulled suddenly away from her, his hand slipping down her back and then stepping to the side. She swayed for a horrifying second, feeling unsteady without the support. She closed her eyes and took a breath. What the hell was she doing? She folded her arms across her chest, one of her hands snaking down and rubbing hard at the bandage at her side, the pain bringing her fully into her right mind.
Gabe threw the keys toward Xander, moving to stoop next to Ellie's feet. He grabbed her dropped book, Wuthering Heights, turning it over in his hands. He held it up to her. "'I gave him my heart....'" he quoted, a brow raised expectantly.
Ellie reached for the book. "'and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me'," she finished, holding the book to her chest. She wouldn't have figured him for a classic literature fan. And certainly not so much a fan that he could quote random passages by heart.
"Rather the antithesis to the romance everyone thinks the book is about, don't you think?" he asked, getting back onto his feet.
"It's not a romance," Ellie said, pulling her brows together. Who would ever think it was? "It's a tragedy."
"You think she should have ended up with Heathcliff?"
"No," Ellie said, firmly.
"Why not?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"Because that kind of love is all fire. And it burns everything given enough time," she answered, looking down at her book self-consciously.
Xander watched them talking books for a long minute, his brows lowered. He had known Gabe for almost fifteen years and he had never seen him with a book in his hands. But the way he was nerding-out with Ellie suggested he was extremely well-versed. Maybe they should have a conversation for a change that wasn't about work... or women.
"You ready, sweetheart?" he asked when their conversation finally died down.
"Yup," she said, sending Gabe a sweet smile.
"You ever wanna talk books," Gabe said, touching her cheek slightly, "I am right next door."
"Okay," she said, almost sounding eager at the prospect, making Xander shuffle his feet with some emotion he couldn't quite place. "And... sorry again about your throat," she said, feeling Xander take her hand and start pulling her out the door.
"Don't worry about it... Eleanor," Gabe said when Xander exited and she was almost out of the door.
Ellie felt her stomach drop, fear coiling tight in her stomach. Did he just say Eleanor? Maybe it was just a guess. She looked up at his face through the door after it closed. One of his brows was raised and he lifted his chin at her. Like confirmation. Like he knew.
He knew who she was.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"You alright?" Xander asked, turning back when she didn't fall into step behind him. He turned back, looking at her staring through the door to the bail bond office. He moved next to her looking to where she was staring. Gabe stood there, looking back at Ellie for a split second before nodding at Xander and moving into the back.
Ellie was watching him retreat, not looking away. She was barely blinking. Christ. Xander ran a hand over his chin. He knew women practically fell at Gabe's feet, but this was ridiculous. She couldn't look away. Even when he was out of sight.
If he looked a little closer, he would have seen the horrified look on her face, but he just reached an arm around her shoulders, forcibly pulling her along, all the while she kept sneaking glances over her shoulder back toward the office.
--
Ellie sat in the car a few minutes later, her book open in her lap, staring blindly at the pages, pretending to read while Xander drove.
How the hell did Gabe know? Her mind raced through its catalog of faces, trying to place him, trying to make a connection. But she was sure that she had never seen him before in her life. But he had obviously seen her. Back then. Before she started running. Before she became Ellie.
Was he planning on exposing her? Oh, God. Was Gabe in league with... him? The thought hit her hard, making her feel like she couldn't breathe.
She glanced at Xander from beneath her lashes. But Gabe was good friends with Xander. And, for all his dangerous airs, he was a good man, solid, mostly on the right side of the law. Even if he needed to do less than legal things at times, she was sure he did them for the right reasons, for the greater good, to help people. And she couldn't picture someone like Xander getting involved with someone who had... really awful connections.
Maybe Gabe was like Xander, on the good side. But he knew things. He knew about him. And then, by extension, her.
Maybe he was just going to tell Xander about her past. Which, she thought grimly, could be just as bad.
They sat there for hours, Xander clicking away at his camera, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. He had gotten plenty of shots of the woman, who had decided to do a striptease and then be on the top. And at the angle they were working with, there was no way to see who was on the bed.
Beside him, Ellie flipped through the pages of her book, seeming lost in her own little world, but getting antsy in her seat, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, fiddling her fingers against the door, readjusting her seat.
"They're coming out," Xander announced, making Ellie jump. They hadn't said so much as a word since they got in the car. "Damn it," he cursed, snapping pictures of them kissing on the street, the man constantly ducking his head to the other side. "I just need one picture of his face..."
Ellie looked up and around quickly, reached for Xander's cell phone, and quickly got out of the car.
He almost called to her, but was too curious to see what she was going to do to stop her. She walked around the car and onto the sidewalk, holding his phone to her ear. "You cheating bastard," she yelled, making the man's face snap up and look around, worriedly. Xander snapped several quick pictures, chuckling to himself, listening to her as she walked past the guilty-looking couple. "She's my best friend you piece of shit," she yelled, moving to open the door to a coffee shop and disappearing inside.
The couple laughed nervously and the man leaned and kissed her on the forehead before moving off to climb in his car.
Xander put the camera down, getting out of the car and following Ellie into the coffee shop where he found her salivating over the assortment of bakery goods. "I guess I forgot to feed you, huh?" he asked, feeling sheepish. It was well past dinner time and the last thing she had eaten was breakfast with him, early in the morning.
"I'm fine," Ellie said automatically, though her stomach was growling pretty insistently. "Did you get what you needed?"she asked, glancing back at the food.
"Yeah," he said, smiling down at her as he slid into line. "That was pretty clever," he told her, thankful that the job was finally over. While he didn't exactly catch them doing the deed, he had gotten enough damning proof. The wife would be happy with it and he would get paid. Then he could focus everything on Ellie.
"Large coffee, large tea," he said to the expectant barista, "and two corn muffins, two brownies, and two hot pretzels," he said, knowing what she had been looking at.
"You don't have to..." Ellie started to object, but he ignored her, pulling money out of his pocket and paying.
"It's the least I can do," he said, moving down the counter to where they were supposed to pick their food up, "for someone who saved my case. Besides, I was hungry too," he said, reaching for their drinks and watching as she did some kind of magic stacking of the six separate plates, balancing them over her hands, wrists, and forearms, somehow steady enough that they didn't even rock. "That's impressive," he said as they made their way to the table.
"Oh," Ellie said, looking down and laughing a little, not having realized she did anything weird. "Impressed with my server skills, huh?" she asked, laying the plates down on the small round table.
"Immeasurably," he said, his tone dry. "So Ellie," he said, watching her pick at the corn muffin, "tell me about yourself."
Ellie looked down at her food, suddenly not feeling very hungry. She knew it was coming. He was going to ask eventually. "How exactly is someone supposed to answer that question?" she asked, hedging. "I mean... without sounding self-centered?"
Xander made a snorting noise and shrugged. "You're supposed to tell me about your home life, your hobbies, why you moved to the city. That kind of thing."
Ellie sighed quietly. "I was raised by my father. He was a cop. As such, he wasn't around a lot as I got older. I took up reading, obviously. And I moved because I just... needed something new I guess."
"No college?"
"I started," she admitted, feeling a bit of shame well up. "I didn't finish."
"Shit happens," Xander said, making her feel infinitely better.
"What about you?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"I grew up in the foster system," he said, his tone suddenly guarded. "I picked fights for fun. I've always lived here."
"That was... vague."
"And your story wasn't?" he asked, quirking up an eyebrow, his tone firm.
But he didn't press and she felt more gratitude toward him than she had before. They sat quietly the rest of the time, each of them picking at their food but not eating much.
She said was. Her dad was a cop. That could have meant he was retired, but there had been a sort of guarded sadness when she said it. Like her father had died and it was something she didn't want to talk about.
But at least it was another piece. Something he could look into. Cops in Portland.
They drove back to his apartment, Ellie glancing over at him occasionally, seeing his dark eyes far away, his mind working. It was probably about her. Because, to him, it was the only way he could find out about her stalker: if he found out about her. She looked down at her hands. And he was going to research her past. In Portland.
When she grew up in Trenton.