Renee

 

Saber told me he had some luck at the hotel, which surprised me quite a bit. It was only a name, but a name went a long way when just a day earlier you didn’t have anything at all. I was relieved that Saber was back, regardless of what he got, though.

 

“I’d like to go to the hospital today,” I told him, finishing up touches on my makeup, preparing to go out. He stood in my doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his hard chest. He looked wonderful, delicious, and I had the urge to just stay in and play games with each other’s bodies, but reminded myself that my dearest friend was in the hospital. “To see Cynthia.”

 

He frowned, clearly not liking the plan. And for once, I acknowledged why. He was trying so hard to protect me and I knew that I didn’t make it easy on him. But this was my life and these were the things I had to do. I wouldn’t let this stalker—this Thomas York—ruin my life, control my whole world. And that meant doing what I was sure seemed like trivial events to Saber. That was my explanation for the awards shows and the auditions, but this was different.

 

Seeing Cynthia was important to me, because she was important to me. Honestly and truly.

 

Maybe he saw that on my face because he finally sighed and gave in. “Alright, we’ll go to the hospital. But you don’t get a ladies’ room break this time, so I suggest you go here. You stay with me no matter what.”

 

I bit my lip. “Can you at least wait outside when I talk to Cynthia? There are glass windows so you can see in,” I hurriedly add when I saw the no forming on his lips.

 

He made a frustrated sound a rolled his eyes, but ultimately said, “Fine.” Even if he did sound grumpy as he said it.

 

We went to the hospital shortly after that conversation. He drove and the entire way he made sure that I understood I was not to leave his line of sight. And that meant if there were no windows that looked in on Cynthia, he was coming in with me. I tried arguing this point, but it was impossible. He wouldn’t budge. I was beginning to think the man was just as stubborn as I was—maybe even more so.

 

Still, as we parked beneath the building in a covered parking spot, I couldn’t help but notice I wasn’t all that annoyed. No, I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child or a porcelain doll. And yes, it annoyed me to no end knowing that I wasn’t going to get an ounce of privacy if Saber didn’t allow it.

 

But there was also the sense that I was truly and honestly being protected. That with Saber, I would be safe, no matter what was thrown our way.

 

And that’s hard to be truly angry about.

 

Cynthia’s room was on the third floor. We took the elevator and got lost twice before I managed to ask a doctor where her room was. He was helpful, moderately attractive, and did absolutely nothing for me. It was amazing how easily I looked away from attractive men these days, but I supposed having one who was equally attractive protecting you like Saber was helped with all of that.

 

I was pleased to see that Cynthia’s room did in fact have windows. I looked over at Saber triumphantly, who looked moderately annoyed, but waved me on anyway. “Fine,” he told me. “Go. I’ll be here.”

 

Pushing open the door tentatively, trying to be quiet in case she was still sleeping, I poked my head inside the room. “Cynthia?” I half whispered.

 

She looked over at me and her face broke into a smile—which looked painful. “Renee! Come in! I didn’t think you’d come today.”

 

I waved off her words. “Are you crazy? Of course I was going to come today! And if it weren’t for my crazy bodyguard—”

 

“Crazy sexy,” Cynthia amended with a wink, but I ignored her.

 

“—I would have been here a while ago.” I went over to her bed and sat down on the side of it, taking one of her hands in mine. “How are you feeling?” She looked awful. The bruises and cuts looked worse, not better, in the bright florescent lighting of the room. She looked pale and a little ghastly with the yellow and purpling spots smattered across her face. The swelling looked like it had puffed up as much as it was going to, meaning that only one eye was stuck shut and her right cheek looked only three times its normal size.

 

Still, she straightened herself up and stubbornly said, “I’m fine. Really.”

 

I didn’t believe her for a second, but didn’t call her on it. At least she was in the hospital, getting treatment. And she was safe. Thomas the Stalker wouldn’t come for her here. Not with the cameras and all the staff. No, I had to believe she was safe here.

 

“Well, good,” I said finally.

 

After that, we chatted a bit about the hospital. How was the food? Was there anything on TV? Should I bring in some extra pillows that weren’t just awful? But as our conversation dwindled, I couldn’t help but bring it to something that had been nagging at me.

 

“Cynthia, I…I don’t want to ask, but I feel like I should,” I told her, feeling bad for having to remind her of the other night.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Have you spoken to the police?”

 

Quickly, Cynthia looked away, and I knew that she hadn’t. “They stopped by,” she told me seriously.

 

My lips pulled down into a frown. She didn’t seem happy with this line of questioning, but I thought it was important that everyone was on the same page. If Cynthia had gone to the police about this whole incident, then I wanted to cooperate. I wanted to help. Even if that put Uncle Ryder in a tricky spot, I had to do the right thing by Cynthia. She didn’t deserve any of this.

 

“And? What did you tell them?”

 

She worried at her lip. I almost yelled at her to stop that, it looked so painful given her current state, but then she released in and looked over at me. “I told them that I…that I didn’t see anything useful. That it was just a burglar trying to take my TV.”

 

I frowned. “Did you see anything?”

 

She shrugged her shoulders, looking upset and a little guilty. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess. I mean, I don’t think any of it was useful anyway, you know? Just some guy in a ski-mask with blue eyes and super pale skin surrounding them. Eyelashes so light that…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I said, nothing useful.”

 

“But why didn’t you tell them that? They might have been able to—”

 

Cynthia sat up suddenly and gripped my hand so hard that I felt the bones press together. “Because he threatened to kill me!” she said suddenly, desperately amidst a choking sob.

 

“Oh God, Cynthia.”

 

She shook her head and said, “He said that if I told the police anything, if I told anyone anything, he’d come back and he’d finish the job. He’d…” She let out another sob, and I shifted my position on her bed so that we were side by side. I slung my arm gently around her shoulders and let her cry, shushing her and telling her that it would all be okay, everything would be fine.

 

And I told myself that it would be, just because Saber was going to find this asshole and then we wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again.

 

But as the thought runs through my head, another was hot on its tail. Saber would do whatever he could to protect me. No matter what. Of that I had become undoubtedly sure. I believed in him like I had never believed in anyone, not even Uncle Ryder. It had to do with the way he looked at me, like he didn’t feel like he should be looking at me but just couldn’t help it in the end.

 

It was a heady feeling to know that I was that important to him—and I believed it was me, not just a job commanded to him by his boss. It made my insides squirm and twist in pleasant ways and it made me want to throw myself into his arms and stay there forever. Which, of course, was an embarrassing thought and more importantly an impossible reality.

 

Still, the feelings he brought out in me were strong and very unexpected. But I liked them. I hoped to hold on to them for as long as I could. I hoped that he felt the same.

 

All of this was good. Except for the realization that the person who was lying in the bed beside me, sobbing uncontrollably, looking like someone had used her as a punching bag, was someone I loved very dearly. Someone who meant the world to me. Someone who had been there for me through thick and thin and had been a bright spot in my sometimes pressurized life.

 

And she’d paid for it. Dearly.

 

I hadn’t asked for that result, and if I could take it back, I would. But that wasn’t an option. And I couldn’t make my crazed stalker forget about Cynthia now that he knew how important she was to me, so I immediately disregarded any crazy notions about abandoning her. Fighting with her. Telling her she had never been important to me.

 

That wouldn’t help in the long run regardless.

 

But that connection to me had definitely put her in harm’s way. Which meant that the other people I loved were in danger, too. Ryder, for instance. It was no secret that he was important to me. He meant the world to me and I talked about him nearly every awards show, telling the world that he was the reason I’d gotten as far as I had.

 

I need to warn him, I thought as I stroked Cynthia’s hair.

 

Maybe it was a silly thought. After all, Ryder was leader of a motorcycle gang and dealt with some pretty dangerous people on a fairly regular basis. And he was digging into this man’s past. Of course he was in danger—and likely already knew it. But I decided I would warn him anyway. I wanted him to know that people I cared about were being targeted, that he was in more danger than all the rest.

 

But if I were being honest with myself, the person I was most worried about now was the man standing outside the door right now, keeping guard over me.

 

Maybe this Thomas York didn’t know yet how deep my feelings had begun to grow for him. Maybe he didn’t know that I had let him into my bed last night and again this morning. Maybe he didn’t know, but he knew so many other things that it was hard not to think of him as omnipotent. As though he could see anything and everything all the time.

 

It sent a shiver of fear down my spine.

 

Thomas York was coming after me. I was his target. I wasn’t the one he was going to hurt to get to me. It was going to be Cynthia and Ryder—and Saber, because whether Thomas York realized it yet or not, I was falling hard for Saber. And that would be impossible to hide soon.

 

The knowledge made me want to run out of the room right then and there and throw myself against Saber. It made me want to plead with him to leave me, to save himself. It made me want to beg him to run away with me and leave everything behind.

 

I didn’t know which was the smartest of those ideas, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t do any of them and Saber would probably tell me I was nuts anyway.

 

No, we were going to have to see this through to the end. No matter what.