While Nick's team had come to help him, now that most of the boxes had been carried up and the food he'd ordered in had arrived, he realized there was no moving them, even though there were at least two boxes still in the lobby below.

He stepped out of his apartment into the small hall which had only two doors, his own and his neighbor's, and turned the sharp corner that was part of the building's design. The passage kinked and twisted, and was filled with a strange light created by the glossy surfaces on the walls and the angles of the windows reflecting the setting sun off the pale orange tiles.

It was not a sensible building. Not even close.

He wished now that he'd agreed to move sooner. Maybe then they'd have found him something a little less . . . whimsical.

From the outside it looked strangely organic, and within . . . well, he had to admit the finishes were exceptional and his apartment, with its two floors consisting of kitchen, lounge, dining room and beautiful deep balcony, and then bedroom, bathroom and study above, was more luxurious than anything he'd anticipated.

His apartment was in one of only nine little towers coming off the main trunk of the building, each containing two double-story apartments. The flourish with which the administrator had flicked over the paperwork in a screen swop told Nick that as far as Housing was concerned, they'd delivered in spades.

He arrived at the lift, and saw it was already on its way up.

He thought through who on the Protection Unit team wasn't already in his apartment having a good time and couldn't think of anyone except the commander.

He couldn't remember if he'd even told Drake he was moving today.

The commander kept a good deal of space between himself and his subordinates, something that Nick mostly appreciated, and he didn't think Drake would come, even if Nick had mentioned it.

The doors slid open, and instead of his commanding officer, he saw the woman from the woods, her back to him, bent over, trying to wrestle the last two of his boxes out of the lift.

She was still in her running gear.

It was loose enough to hide most of her body, except her long, bare legs.

She muttered something vicious under her breath when the boxes wouldn't move, and forcing himself to do something other than stare, Nick stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I'll do that.”

She went absolutely still under his hand and then twisted to look at him. The glare she sent him was like a physical blow.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He stepped back, hands up, heart sinking. “I didn't mean to frighten you. Again. Those are my boxes you've kindly brought up.”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment.

She had warm copper skin, something he hadn't fully appreciated from earlier, which was offset by the swathe of dark blue hair.

“I'm Nick Bartega.” He tried to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.

The woman blew out a breath, and he realized she'd been holding it.

She straightened, tugging her shirt down so it swirled around her hips, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The lift was a cylinder, and its curved door started to slide closed. They both leaned forward to keep it open and their hands touched.

She pulled hers back, forming a fist.

She still hadn't said a word.

“I'm really sorry. I should have realized you didn't know I was there.”

She took another, calmer, breath. “You gave me a fright, but it wasn't your fault.” Her voice was slightly husky, and he felt a frisson of excitement run down his spine.

She started to edge out of the lift and he shuffled back to give her room. “I saw your boxes below and Fari and Jo helped me get them in the lift, but I don't think I can get them out.”

“I was just going down for them. Thanks for saving me the trip.” He wondered if either Fari or Jo was the woman she'd been running with earlier.

She stepped even further away, and for something to do, and to make himself look less dangerous, he grabbed the first box, set it down, and then went back for the second.

She seemed thoughtful when he turned back to her.

“Well, welcome to the building.” She gave him a small smile and started walking backward down the passage. “I'm sure you'll love it here.”

She turned away, and that spurred him into action. He didn't want to let her out of his sight just yet.

He picked up a box and followed her, and when she heard him behind her, manners forced her to slow down.

“Are you my neighbor?”

She gave a nod. “Tila Dor Ria.”

They arrived in the tiny hall, and Nick winced at the noise coming from behind the closed door of his place.

“Sorry, I'm with the Protection Unit, and my team came to help me move. They can be a bit rowdy.”

She had initially looked at his door as if it might contain the monsters from the Seven Pits behind it, but at the words Protection Unit, she loosened her shoulders and met his gaze with a frankness he found deeply intriguing.

“Well, I'll leave you to it. Welcome again.” She turned, but softened the dismissal by smiling over her shoulder as she swiped her finger through the activated laser lock.

“You're welcome to join us.” He knew she'd say no, the horror on her face at the noise told him there was no way she'd submit to being in such a loud crowd, but he wanted to make the offer anyway.

She shook her head, and there was something very definite about the movement. He'd guessed right. She would not be persuaded.

The sound of a glass breaking behind the door made her flinch, and he flinched with her.

Not because he cared about the glass, but because he was sure it was reinforcing her attitude that they had no common ground.

The smash had one benefit. The noise level dropped, and Nick thought his team probably realized they had gotten a little out of control.

“We've had a tough week,” he said, not sure why he was defending the idiots, but wanting her to understand. “Two explosions in the city. Six lives lost.”

She had opened her door and was standing at an angle, so he couldn't see into her apartment. “I was in the street near the second explosion.” Something in her stance softened. “I hope you find them. Stop them.”

He nodded.

“Well, goodbye Officer Bartega.”

“Nick.” He leaned against her doorjamb, box balanced on his hip.

She narrowed her eyes at his pushiness.

He moved back. “Please, call me Nick.”

“Nick,” she said after a long beat. Then she shut the door in his face.