Hope walked by Abel, who was sitting at his laptop. “What’s wrong?”

His brow furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen. “Nothing.” Sighing, he pushed away from the desk, clearly bothered by something. “Actually, come here.”

“What the hell is going on?” she asked again, making her way back to the desk.

Abel tapped on the keyboard. “This.” He turned it to face her. Hope eyed the screen, making out what was in front of her. It was her old apartment, a place where she once felt semi-safe. In front of its door stood a man in a mask. Hope gasped as the man knelt and placed a blue and white box at her doorstep.

“I left the cameras up at your old place for this reason.” He pointed to the screen. “Is that your husband?” She placed a palm over her stomach, as the nausea grew. Leaning in, she took a better look. Abel had been right when he’d explained about the video quality of his cameras. Hope could see very clearly a tattoo on the man’s right forearm.

She shook her head. “No. Unless Mark got a tattoo of a cobra on his arm in the last few months, that isn’t him.”

The man placed the box on the step, then casually made his way down the steps as if he hadn’t just left a possible death threat at her door. Maybe he didn’t know what the gifts meant to her or what Mark intended them to mean. She wondered what lies Mark could have told the man to convince him to do his bidding. Mark, extremely charismatic and persuasive, had easily convinced her that she was worthless, but she knew better now.

Abel stood and picked up his handheld device. “I need to go and get it.”

Hope made a beeline to the front door for her shoes.

“Hell no.”

Momentarily frozen in place at his words, Hope looked up at Abel from her bended position. “Excuse me?” She lifted to see his hands crossed over his chest and a frown marring his face. She nearly laughed at the sight. Instead, she mirrored his pose.

His voice deepened, taking on an unyielding tone. “You aren’t fucking going.”

“And you aren’t leaving my ass here.” A desperate feeling overcame her when his face hardened. “It can’t be safe to leave me here alone. I mean, it’s your job to protect me. How can you do that if you aren’t here?”

As if her words had summoned a migraine, Abel closed his eyes and massaged his temples. His voice lowered, taking on a resigned tone. “Just stop, Hope. He doesn’t know where you are, or he would have left the note at this doorstep.” He walked around the room as he prepared to leave her alone in the place without him. It wasn’t that she was scared, not even when Abel placed his gun in the holster at his side and then slid one to her. “This is for you, though I’m 99.9% sure you won’t need it.”

Hope lifted her fingers to her brow and massaged lightly. Now she was getting a headache. “Look, I am not trying to be that heroine that is too stupid to live.” He cocked a brow. “I’m not! I just—”

“Don’t want me to see you as a victim,” he finished.

“Something like that,” she muttered. Taking the gun in her hand, she expertly checked the chamber and clip. She grinned when Abel whistled low. “But we should honestly stay together, and you know it.” Unable to meet his eyes, Hope added, “I want to go because I want to be with you.”

He let loose a long-suffering sigh. “How am I to protect you if you fight me at every turn?”

“Take me with you,” she asked again, ignoring the question.

Abel held silent for a long moment, his eyes closing as he considered her request. “You’ll stay in the truck, in the driver’s seat. And if anything happens, you’ll drive off and straight to the sheriff’s station.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

“Okay.” She couldn’t hide the pleasure in her voice at his change of mind.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a light shake. “Hope, I am not kidding. This isn’t something I would normally do for a client, but I feel like you’ll give me the silent treatment if I say no.” He rolled his eyes.

Hope pulled out from under his hands and cleared her voice. “Let me get a coat. I think it’s going to rain again.” She said it in the most casual tone she could muster.

Pushing her arms into her raincoat, her mind raced. The emotional turmoil of reading another letter from Mark, battled with her feelings for Abel that fluttered around in her chest, unbidden.

Abel placed a hand at her back and led her to the truck, his eyes exploring the surrounding area as they walked the few feet from the building. In the truck, the soft, soulful voice of Joss Stone crooned melodies, as lightning struck, lighting the sky above. Hope hadn’t realized how late it had become; on any normal night, she would have enjoyed this late summer storm with a cup of tea and a good book. Instead, she sat in a truck with an emotionally unavailable man, on the way to pick up what was no doubt a threat to her safety.

This was her life, and Hope felt helpless to change anything. She knew better than most, you can’t change a man. The only hope she had of normalcy between Abel and herself was to divorce her husband, then tackle how he viewed her, breaking down the walls he continually erected.

“I’ll get out, get it, and drive off. While I don’t think he’s still here, there’s no point in sitting out in the open like fools.”

“Makes sense.” Out the window, she saw the familiar long road that led to her front door. The rain had started to fall just before they arrived, but even with Hope’s untrained eyes, she could see the recent tire tracks in the dirt.

“He drove,” Abel said, confirming her suspicions. “The cameras can’t catch what is going on way out here, but I really wanted to get the man’s face on camera. I need to send it in to an old friend, and see if the video can be run against arrest records here.”

“You can do that?” Hope sat up, excited at the idea of finding out who Mark hired to harass her.

“Yeah, if I still have my contacts. What I can do is identify him, find him,” he glanced at her, “and interview him. That way, I’ll have proof that Mark is the one sending you threatening letters to aid in your divorce.”

Hope heard the malice in his voice, but she refused to react to it. From her seat, the delicate white bow atop the Tiffany’s box waved at her in the distance. Her stomach dropped. She thought to open the door, but Abel’s heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. His warning echoing in her head.

Hope sobered up and reached for the hand gripping her shoulder. “I’m not going out there. I just—” Rain slammed hard into the windshield, causing Hope to startle. “Jesus, let’s just get out of here.” She moaned, uncaring of the stupid box, or any other letter that may be up there.

Abel pressed a gun into her hand and opened the door. “Don’t get out. Scoot into the driver’s seat and floor it the fuck out of here if anything happens.” He helped her into the driver’s seat, and buckled her in, even as the rain pelted his head and back.

Slamming the door shut, Abel made fast work of heading through the front yard and up the stairs. After he picked up the box, he ran back to the truck.

“Drive,” he commanded as he hopped in.

Hope pushed the pedal down, backing out without an afterthought. They made it ten minutes down the road before her eyes drifted to the box tucked beneath his hands. This box was the same size as the last, but attached was a medium sized manila envelope with her name scrawled across it.

“It’s not Mark’s handwriting,” she observed. “Open it and read it to me.” She hoped her voice hadn’t shaken, betraying the fear in her heart. When he didn’t speak, Hope slowed the vehicle down and looked to him. “Really, I think you should. The suspense is making me so sick to my stomach, I may have to pull over and puke.”

He considered her plea, then moved the folder out of the way and untied the damp white bow. Hope fought to keep her eyes on the road, daring glances at the item Abel removed from the box. The flash of red lace and a sparkling chain had her slamming on the brakes, skidding through mud and water.

Abel reached out to stop from slamming into the dashboard, causing the items in his hands to fly to the floor. Hope’s chest constricted, working hard to impede her ability to breathe. She gripped the wheel tight, struggling to pull in air.

Vaguely, she could hear Abel calling her name, his hand touching hers. Hope couldn’t take it. Snatching away from his touch, she pushed open the door and ran into the night. With her heart racing and tears flowing down her cheeks, Hope screamed into the dark sky as her heart broke, and the memories from the past struck her like a physical blow to the chest.

She stumbled and fell into a puddle of rain water. Gasping when her face submerged, she lifted her head and searched for air to feed her burning lungs. Seconds later, Abel crashed into the water, taking her in his arms.

“I got you,” he said as he rocked her back and forth, his voice becoming a beacon to guide her away from the past. “I got you.”