Abel sensed her caginess the second he’d walked through the door. The overwhelming sense of despair hit him in the gut the moment he’d made eye contact with the little underweight sprite and he’d had to look away. He’d seen that look in clients too many times before, so instead of taking in her beautiful face and slender frame, he walked through her house, obliterating the only semblance of safety she’d established for herself.

She’d tried, he’d give her that much.

Abel was soaked through, and leaking rain water onto her tattered carpet, but he had a job to do. He stepped back onto the piece of linoleum patch at the entrance and stood. He’d scared her earlier and hadn’t meant to do so. Perhaps he was a bit rusty at his job, but he should have known to treat Hope as if she thought him untrustworthy. He, like any other man in her life, would have to go through extra steps to gain her trust.

“First, let’s start with you,” he said soothingly, watching as she gripped the plush towel tighter, twisting it with her hands.

“Me?” A hand left the towel and flew to her chest. “Why?”

Abel resisted the urge to smile at the dimple forming in her cheek. Her desire to know why he needed to start with her, instead of showing anger, pleased him. And the answer was simple: he truly wanted to get to know Hope. There would be no better way to protect her than to know more about her. Her daily activities, what she liked, and what she hated. What she wanted for dinner tonight because he was damned sure going to feed her.

Slowly, Abel moved toward her and pulled the towel from between her delicate fingers. Her pale flushed skin had turned red from how tight she grasped and twisted the towel. “I’d like to start with you, because I have to know who I’m safeguarding. I need to know if you are defiant. For instance, if I were to yell run, what would you do?”

His eyes traveled over her smooth skin. She was beautiful and he hoped she was just as smart. Because there was no way he would be able to help her if she didn’t answer this question right.

Hope eyed him with confusion bright in her gaze. “Run?” Then her eyes shone bright with understanding. “Assuming you decide to take the job, and you yelled the words run, I would freaking run.”

“Good job.”

“And no, I’m not defiant.”

Even better. A person would be surprised how many of his clients responded with ‘why’ to that question, even after they’d hired him as a bodyguard.

He took a moment to dry himself off, watching her hazel gaze following his movements. Then asked, “Have you ever used a gun?”

She gave him an adorable wry smile. “Of course. I’m from New York.”

He chuckled. “Noted.” He’d have to test her skill with the weapon, of course, but he was pleased to hear she at least knew how to fire a gun. “Have you been living under an alias since you’ve been gone?” He didn’t think she had been, especially since she was working in the clinic, unless Thea had been paying under the table. Her furtive glance to Thea gave him her answer before she spoke.

“Um, no. I didn’t want to get the clinic in trouble, so I gave my real name when Thea filed about a week or two ago. I mean, she didn’t even know that I was running from my husband until I got here.”

And therein lay the problem. It was most likely how her husband found her, but it also confused Abel. “Why?” he asked. How did she expect to stay in the clear, when the man was salivating to harm or even kill her?

Hope nibbled on her bottom lip before speaking. “Because I didn’t want to get Thea or the clinic—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I know that part. My question is, why did you come here at all?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, because I was running out of money and Mark’s father had gone to the pawn shops I’d used to hock the jewelry he’d given me, and gave my picture to the shop owners, telling them to call if I came in.” Abel noticed a quiver in her voice and hated hearing it. “One older gentleman had been extremely nice and gave me a ten-minute head start before he called the cops.”

She went to the small couch and sat down. Moving beside her, Thea placed an arm over Hope’s shoulder. “It was then I knew I needed to leave New York. Without that money, I couldn’t pay rent, buy groceries, or anything. When Thea called, I thought about turning her offer down, but I realized I couldn’t afford to, in more ways than one.”

“Did you really think leaving New York would solve your problem?” he asked not unkindly. When she nodded, he spoke again. “But it made it worse.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Hope nodded again. “I need you to show me everything he’s sent you. And I have to see it in the exact order he sent it.”

Abel had decided to take the job the moment he’d gotten in Lex’s truck. The question was how hard would this job become? Would his ward drive him insane, or would she pull a Whitney Huston in the movie Bodyguard and nearly get herself killed by being rebellious? He’d had these things happen to him on more than one occasion. In one instance, he had to quit a job it’d gotten so bad.

He didn’t sense that would be the case with Hope, but he still had to treat her as he would any other client—even if he found her insanely attractive. He inwardly commended her for setting traps around her apartment, albeit ineffective, and he made a mental note to ask her about the glass shards under the carpet at the threshold of her home.

Lex spoke up. “Man, if you give me the key to your storage and a list of shit you need, I can go pick it up for you.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Abel quickly jotted down a list and handed it over, along with the key. Heading over to Hope’s tiny kitchenette, he opened the fridge and saw exactly what he’d expected. Low fat, diet TV dinners, and a few pieces of fruit and veggies. Turning to Hope, he asked, “Is this all you have?” When she nodded, Abel gestured to Lex. “Stop by the grocery store, too. I’ll give you a list of things to get for now.”

“The fuck do I look like, your errand boy?” he asked good naturedly.

“For the next day or so, yeah,” Abel replied. He assumed Hope thought the food he was about to purchase was for his consumption only; little did she know, Abel planned to put some weight on her bones, and demand that she get more sleep. She couldn’t be alert and aware of her surroundings if she was always tired and hungry.

Turning to her, he asked, “Are you okay to be alone with me, or would you rather have Thea stay?”

Thea took Hope’s hand in hers. “I’ll stay if you want, but you should know Abel is a great guy, and the only reason I am letting Lex take me away on this honeymoon is because I trust him.” Thea gave Abel a warm smile.

“I’ll be fine.” Hope shrugged, yet Abel noted the tension in her eyes.

Unsure if it was due to thoughts of being alone with him, or the fact she’d have to go through the threatening letters, Abel clasped his hands together and said, “Okay, let’s get started. First, I’ve asked Gator to keep one of his men on duty until I can set up a perimeter and search the surrounding area.” He pointed to the window. “Second, I have some stuff I can cover that window up with. The stuff you used is cheap, and with the right kind of binoculars, ineffectual.”

“I don’t have a lot of money,” Hope reminded him. “So, I did what I could.”

“Understandable.” The idea wasn’t to make her feel like shit, but to make sure she understood what she needed to do to protect herself.

When Thea and Lex left, Hope pulled a white box from under her twin bed. “He sent letters, but the first thing I got was this.” She removed the lid to reveal another box inside, and Abel recognized the Tiffany’s blue.

He watched from his peripheral as she massaged her ring finger.

“Whenever he would hurt me, he would buy me something from Tiffany’s. When he broke my finger, he updated my wedding band set. And again, when he broke my ankle he bought a diamond studded anklet.” Hope spoke in a monotone voice, as if revealing her abuse by rote.

“What about the letters?” He didn’t reach out to pick one up. No need to add his fingerprints. Since hers were already on the paper, he allowed her to sift through them.

Hands trembling, she pulled a letter from the box. “This is the first one I got after the choker.”

“Read it to me.” His voice was low, and hopefully calming. He leaned against the wall and watched as a shudder made its way through her body.

“Come home, darling. Please don’t make me come for you. Our bed is so cold.”

Hope continued to read the letters out loud, pulling them out in order, until she read the last one. Each letter grew increasingly belligerent and more aggressive. Just as Abel had expected.

He was ready to give his conditions for taking the job. She wouldn’t be happy and he’d have to call in a favor for some cash, but Abel was not allowing her to stay in this place any longer. Not now that he knew what Mark was all about.

Abel thought about the note she’d received with the choker. I’ll give you to the count of three to come back home to me. Something was wrong there. The letters should have come before this final threat, and he wondered if the delivery system Mark was using had fucked up. He didn’t think that Mark himself had left the letters, so that gave them a leg up on Mark’s game. While he knew where Hope had run to, he hadn’t gotten angry enough to come for her … yet. And that was his end goal. But one question remained. What was Hope’s end game?

He’d had clients ask him to guard them just long enough to have the stalker come out of hiding, while one did this solely so she could kill her stalker. Abel didn’t think this was Hope’s goal, but there had to be an end game at some point. In Abel’s experience, obsessive behaviors like Mark’s didn’t just disappear over time, they grew. And while Abel wouldn’t mind protecting Hope for the long run, he knew she was aiming for some semblance of a normal life.

Leaning against the wall, he watched as she packed up the letters and placed them back under the bed. Now was just as good a time as any to let her know that she would no longer be staying in the home. She had one more night here, and then they would hit the road.

“You understand you can’t stay here, correct?”

Hope froze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this place. You’ll have to leave it.” Glancing around, he took in the quaint room. Probably no more than four hundred square feet. He wasn’t even sure if it was a legal apartment, but she’d made the place her own by adding various secondhand items that gave the home a cozy feel. Bold, coal drawings of nude bodies adorned the wall, and he made a mental note to ask for the artist’s name later.

She shoved her hands on her hips, and her chin tilted forward. “I am not running anymore. I want my life back. I thought that’s what you were here to help me do.”

He chuckled. And there it was, her defiant side.