This is it, I think. This is what I want, this is all I want. This and this and this.

I slide both arms around Ruby and hold her close. It doesn’t matter that we’re half-dressed in a weird alley behind a bar. It doesn’t matter that her parents are asleep at a hotel not that far away; it doesn’t matter that there’s no way I’ll ever be in the Secret Service again.

This is what matters.

“Ruby,” I murmur, right into her ear.

“Mmm?” she says, leaning into me. She slides her fingers between mine, and I feel like a puzzle piece locks into place.

“Run away with me,” I say.

She swallows, not answering.

“Tonight,” I go on. “Now. We don’t even have to run. All we have to do is not go back.”

Ruby takes a deep breath, her body expanding and contracting against me. I know she’s going to say no, and I know that her reasons are perfectly good, and I know that leaving in the dead of night is exciting and romantic but probably not a good idea.

But still. But still, I want to take her away and never look back.

“Not tonight,” she says, finally, and it takes me by surprise.

“Not tonight,” I repeat.

She lifts my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles gently, folding my big hand around her small one.

“We need to plan,” she says. “If we wait a week, maybe two, it’ll be easier. I can bring some things with me, I can find some money.”

She pauses.

“I can say goodbye to Joy and Zeke,” she says.

Suddenly, I understand, and I feel like an idiot for not remembering that this is still her family, that despite everything, there are people here she loves.

“I don’t think this is it!” a voice shouts from the walkway.

I jerk backward, letting Ruby go, automatically turning away from the voice. In seconds, we’ve both pulled up our jeans and we’re smoothing down our shirts, Ruby running one hand through her hair, clearing her throat.

A guy in jeans and flip-flops walks into the tiny courtyard, stops, and stares at it. It’s dead obvious in his face that he knows exactly what we were just doing, and he has no idea how to proceed.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, then jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I was just... yeah.”

He turns and leaves, and Ruby and I look at each other. She starts giggling, her face bright pink even in the dark, and then I start laughing too as she walks back into my arms.

“That was close,” she says.

“Close, but fine,” I point out.

“Can you imagine if I got arrested for public indecency?” she says, sighing.

“Just tell your parents that Satan pulled your jeans down, and it was actually his voice saying my name over and over again,” I tell her, grinning.

She burrows her face into my chest, and I grin, stroking her hair, because I can tell she’s embarrassed and I think it’s adorable.

“You’d think Satan would be busier,” she muses. “Billions of people on Earth, yet he’s got the time to come personally make me sin.”

“Great time management skills,” I say, and Ruby laughs.

After a moment, we head back into the bar through the back door. A few people definitely give us looks, but I just had the greatest night of my life and Ruby finally agreed to let me help her escape, so I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.

I pay the tab, and we leave, walking hand-in-hand through Charleston. It’s almost closing time, so people are spilling out onto the sidewalks, running the gamut from drunk and belligerent to talking quietly. A few times, Ruby flinches away from someone particularly obnoxious but I squeeze her hand and straighten my back a little, and nobody fucks with us.

We stroll back to the hotel, talking about nothing at all. Ruby’s half planning her escape and half talking about all the things she’s going to do when she’s out, like wear tank tops and go places alone. I tell her I think she should also start wearing really short shorts, and she laughs, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t know if I should take fashion advice from you,” she muses.

“There is no reason why —”

I glance over Ruby’s head, and suddenly, my stomach tightens, pure instinct driving adrenaline through my veins while my brain rushes to catch up.

Something is wrong, I think frantically. Something’s wrong. What? What is it?

I hold my breath and scan the street, forcing myself to stay calm. Maybe it’s nothing, just a weird noise that kicked me into panic mode, a glass shattering somewhere, someone slamming a door.

Everything seems normal, and we’re on the edge of downtown, only a few blocks from the hotel. It’s quieter here, less crowded, so I’m on higher alert, but there’s nothing wrong, I’m just...

The car. It’s the car. A black minivan, half a block away, its lights off. All at once I realize that it’s been half a block away since we left the bar, but I’m drunk and didn’t notice it, not until now. Not until we’re in the quiet part of town, less people around to hear Ruby if she screams.

“Why what?” she asks, looking up at me.

I tighten my hand on hers, instinctively, and look to the front again.

“Gabriel,” she says, and she sounds frightened.

I nearly tell her it’s nothing, to keep walking, so we can get back to the hotel and I can send her to her room and we’ll take care of this. But I don’t. It’s Ruby. I tell her everything.

“Don’t look,” I say, my voice dead calm. “That minivan is following us.”

She twitches, like she nearly turns her head, but she doesn’t and instead she has my hand in a death grip, so tight I think she might break my fingers.

“I’m right here, and you’re going to be fine,” I tell her, pulling on every ounce of training I have to keep my voice neutral, because the last thing I need is for Ruby to panic and run or something.

Right now, we’re in control of the situation. He’s following us down the street, and though it’s not crowded, there are other people around. But if we do something unpredictable, all bets are off.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say. “We’re going to go back to the hotel like there’s nothing wrong, and when we get there, you’re going to go back to your room and I’m going to stay in the lobby and call the team, leaving out the part where it followed us home from the bar. Simple as that.”

Ruby nods, speeding up her pace, but I pull her back.

“Don’t make him panic,” I say. “Come on. Slow and steady.”

She squeezes my hand one more time, and I squeeze back. I can tell she’s terrified, but she’s also brave as hell and so she does exactly what I say: we walk the few blocks back to the hotel. We even pretend to chat about something, and she holds her head high and doesn’t look behind her once.

It’s half a block behind us the entire time, a black shadow at the edge of my vision, creeping along and trying to dodge through the light traffic as it follows us.

By the time we’re approaching the hotel, its soft yellow lobby lights practically calling us, something has become very clear: this guy has no idea what he’s doing. If you want to follow someone, you don’t creep along, lights off, half a block behind them. Maybe he wants to frighten her, intimidate her, and it might work if I weren’t here.

But I am, and this motherfucker’s trying his bullshit on the wrong guy, because I spend most of the walk back staying intensely aware of the minivan while also fantasizing about the ways I’d like to kick his ass. There’s a lot of them, and the tighter Ruby holds my hand, the more creative they get.

And then finally we’re there, at the hotel, where it’s well-lit, where there are security cameras, other people, and most importantly, a whole security detail. I’m just fucking praying that this guy isn’t smart enough to drive away, because I want him gone.

I open the door and Ruby steps through, into the lobby, her movements stiff and awkward, like she’s really trying to act normal. The only other person in there is a guy at the front desk who’s half asleep, and I automatically tick through the plans of the hotel lobby: all doors but this one locked from the outside; cameras behind the desk; alarm system on the windows; someone always on desk duty. It’s safe.

Before we get another step, Ruby sinks into my arms, so suddenly that I take a step back. She squeezes me so tight I can hardly breathe, her whole body shaking like a leaf.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, just give me a minute.”

“Don’t be,” I whisper back, holding her tight. “You did great. You’re fine, you’re gonna be fine.”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. I turn my head and look through the glass doors. No minivan.

Please don’t let him have gone far, I think, Ruby in my arms. I want to wring his fucking neck myself.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the stuff he wrote, and what I’d do if he suddenly came for me, and how I’d escape if he got me...”

“Stop apologizing,” I say, into her hair. “You’re fine. I’m here. I promise. He’s gonna have to go through me to get to you, and he’s gonna have a rough fucking time of that.”

God, I almost want him to try something, just so I’ve got an excuse to kick his ass.

Ruby straightens up, takes a deep breath, wipes her eyes. I brush one thumb along her cheek, wiping away one tear, and she half smiles.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I say, and a quick pang stabs through my heart, because stalker aside, I liked this.

I liked being out with Ruby, in public, like any regular girlfriend and boyfriend. I liked holding her hand and seeing her in pants and making fools of ourselves by making out in a booth, and I hate — absolutely fucking hate — that come tomorrow it’s back to polite nods and significant glances.

So I kiss her. Just once, quickly, but fuck this and fuck her stalker and fuck her parents and fuck everything. It’s my job to protect her, to make her not afraid, to make sure she doesn’t need to be, so I fucking kiss her.

“Thanks,” she whispers, then turns and walks away. I watch her until she gets on the elevator, then mentally track her progress as I dial Ray’s number: up to the fourth floor; cameras in the elevator; every room filled with people who could hear her scream.

She’s fine. She’ll be fine. There’s nowhere she could be more fine, but still, something nags at me. I wonder if I should have gone with her, even if it would have meant getting caught.

I pick up my phone and call Ray, ready to get this show on the road.

“Gabe,” says Ray’s voice in a deep croak.

God, I hate when he calls me that.

“We have a situation,” I say. “There’s a black minivan outside.”