The sirloin tips sizzled in the pan on the stove. Gracie added the peppers and onions to the skillet and stirred. Her hand shook. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone watched her.

When she'd started cooking, she'd closed the blinds in the kitchen. The windows at the back of the townhouse looked directly into the house behind her. It was one of the drawbacks of living in the subdivision. That, and no backyard where she could have privacy and security like at Wayne's house. Even Chuck's house had a deck and a high fence.

Not that she'd spend time outside if she lived somewhere differently. Sure, if someone came over and wanted to sit in the yard, she'd enjoy the company. But, alone, she would never be able to relax.

Tonight's paranoia came from the fact that Rich had left the house. He was out there. Somewhere in the dark. Lurking around.

Rationally, she understood if he hadn't hurt her inside the house, having him outside made the odds even bigger than he wouldn't hurt her from outside.

God, she needed to get a grip.

She took the skillet off the burner and moved over to the counter. Knowing Rich was a big guy, and since men usually enjoyed homemade food, she filled three tortillas with steak and added a dollop of sour cream over the mixture and rolled each shell. Then, she quickly made her one.

Still, Rich stayed outside.

He'd gone out the front door an hour ago at dusk. Worried that he would try to walk away, she'd called Chuck. She didn't agree with his confidence that Rich wouldn't leave without his motorcycle. For all she knew, Rich planned to walk to Wayne's house and steal his bike back and ride out of town.

She ripped off a piece of foil and covered the extra plate when her phone rang. Wiping her hands off with the hand towel, she answered Wayne's call. "Hello."

"What the hell is he doing?"

She grabbed her plate. "I don't know. I called Chuck, and he said not to worry about Rich."

"What did he say when he walked out the door?"

"Nothing." She climbed the steps going to her bedroom.

Heavy breathing came over the phone. She shut the door, locking the knob. "What are you doing?"

"Wondering why in the hell he's inspecting the cameras outside your house," said Wayne.

After her abduction, Notus put cameras up outside her home and monitored the activity from Wayne's house. At first, she wanted to be the one who looked for anything suspicious, but they'd talked her out of having access to the recordings. They wanted her to concentrate on moving forward.

"He asked about the screws in the windows." She sat down on the bed and put her plate on her lap.

"What screws?"

"The ones I put in the latches." She picked a piece of pepper out of her roll-up and put it in her mouth.

"You put a screw in the latch?" Wayne paused. "How do you open the window?"

"I don't." She swallowed the bite of food. "It keeps the windows locked permanently. I did it myself."

She wouldn't call herself handy, but the day she spent securing her house without asking one of the Notus members to help made her feel good about herself.

"Shit," muttered Wayne. "What are you going to do if there's a fire?"

"Walk out the front door or break a window." She picked a small piece of sirloin off the plate and put it in her mouth. "I have a hammer upstairs, just in case. And, if you're wondering, I'm trying really hard not to add a duh every time I answer your questions."

Granted, Wayne wasn't as fun to tease as Chuck, but she was stuck in the house with no real conversations. Wayne would do.

"We'll talk about this later." Wayne continued. "Have you tried to talk to Rich?"

"No." She sighed, wanting to prove she wasn't a chicken. "Well, sort of. He killed a mouse in the garage for me."

"That's it?"

A door downstairs shut. She looked up, straining to hear footsteps.

"Gracie?"

"Yeah, I'm here." She set the plate down beside her on the bed. "I heard Rich come inside. I cooked him dinner. The one that you like with the sirloin tips, green and red peppers, and onion. I owed him for killing the mouse. He threw it away, and everything. It went...well. He didn't get angry or anything."

She shut her mouth. Everything spilled out of her after having no one to talk with and being forced off her normal schedule of going to the bar.

"You're eating with him?"

"No, I'm in my room."

Wayne called Clara to the phone. "Your sister wants to talk with you, and Gracie? Good job."

Her back straightened, surprised that he was okay with the slow progress. "I'm trying, Wayne."

"I know you are, honey." His voice softened. "Rich is an alcoholic. He's probably still in a world of hurt right now, only thinking of ways he can get a drink."

"I could use a drink," she whispered into the phone.

Wayne chuckled. "Soon. We'll come over and match you shot for shot."

She laughed quietly. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Here's your sister."

"Wait." She paused. "Are you still looking for the missing person?"

"Yeah, I'm getting ready to head out for my shift on the streets now. Here's Clara."

She refrained from asking him if it was a female or a male, or if it was a runaway, abduction, or drifter. Too many details caused anxiety in her, and she kept her distance.

"Sis?" Clara hesitated. "How are you?"

"Bored." She glanced down at her food, now cold. "It took babysitting a grown-ass man and staying home all the time for me to realize how far I've come."

"You have."

"I'm sorry all the jobs with the bar are falling on your shoulders." She stood from the bed. "If you want, have Wayne bring me the alcohol orders. I can at least help you out there." She leaned against the door and put the ear that wasn't blocked by the phone against the wood.

"I'll see how tomorrow goes. I might do that." Clara paused. "So, tell me, what do you think about Rich?"

"He's a drunk." She walked away from the door. "He's agitated. He's a man who paces around here like he's used to a prison cell."

Her sister gasped. "Is it not safe with him?"

"I don't know. He hasn't done anything or turned his anger on me, but honestly, I'm avoiding him." She leaned over and took a sweatshirt out of her dresser drawer.

"I’m going to talk to Wayne."

"No." She sighed. "I can do this. I need to. Notus has done so much for me, I feel like this is something that means a lot to them, and if I can help, I want to."

"You're sure?"

"Hang on." She set the cell on the bed, slipped the sweatshirt over her head, shoved her arms into the sleeves, and picked up the phone. "Yeah, I'm okay. It'll be over soon."

"Okay, but if you change your mind..."

"I should go. My food is cold, and I need to go nuke it in the microwave. Call me tomorrow. Love you." After saying goodbye, she picked up her plate and unlocked her bedroom.

She knew her sister better than anyone. If Clara worried, neither one of them would get any rest.

Knowing Rich had time to find the food, eat, and retreat to his room, she walked downstairs. Even if he remained in the living room, she was comfortable enough to go to a different room than him. He avoided her as much as she had him.

In the kitchen, she put her plate in the microwave. Thirty seconds later, she turned and found Rich standing at the entrance to the kitchen. She glanced at the counter and back to him. He'd found his plate of food because he'd left an empty plate behind.

"Where's the display for the cameras outside?" he asked.

She should've asked Wayne what kind of information she was allowed to hand over to Rich. Her security system was private and not something she wanted just anyone knowing about.

He studied her, and she held his gaze until she couldn't any longer because he was out of her league when it came to brute strength. She held the plate closer to her. "Why?"

"I need to see what goes on outside."

"It's a gated community full of townhouses." She stepped over to the counter and set her plate down. "You can tell that by looking out the windows."

He rubbed his hand over his beard and walked away in the opposite direction without a comment.

Her appetite gone, she needed to go upstairs and give Rich his space. She covered the plate with foil and put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Used to talking with Notus members, she had always been free to tease and ask questions. They understood sarcasm.

Rich appeared to be a man with no sense of humor.

After putting Rich's dirty plate in the dishwasher, she left the kitchen and found him in front of the window in the living room. She stopped.

"Why do you really want to know what happens outside?" she asked.

He continued to look outside, holding sentry at the window. She stepped into the living room but kept her distance. He couldn't expect her to answer his questions next time if he wasn't going to communicate with her.

His broad back expanded. She inhaled, imagining how much air it would take to make him even bigger. He had his own demons he fought from going cold turkey from alcohol.

"Do you want a drink?" She held on to the back of the couch.

He turned his head. "Do you have one?"

"No."

He looked back out the window. "Then, why ask?"

"Just curious to know if wanting a drink has anything to do with the security cameras." She shrugged, even though he wasn't looking at her. "Maybe you want to plan your escape and figure out which one of the neighbors you can hitch a ride with to the closest bar—which my sister and I own, by the way. Notus would hear the second you stepped through the door at Vavoom's."

Rich stuck his fingers in his back pocket and exhaled when he pulled his empty hand out of his jeans. She tilted her head. The right rear pocket of his pants had a circle worn into the material. From everything she'd heard, even alcoholics could chew or smoke tobacco. Wayne seemed to be breaking the guy completely of every habit he had, and if she'd learned anything since her abduction, only baby steps worked.

She returned to the kitchen, opened the junk drawer, and searched for what she was looking for. Finding success, she returned to the living room and approached Rich. Her stomach fluttered. She'd never purposely went close to him.

When she was near him, she set a cigar and a lighter on the window sill. "It's not chew, but it might help take the edge off. If you decide to smoke it, do it outside."

She left the room without waiting to see if Rich took the offer. Chuck had a habit of leaving his cigars at her house when he used to spend the night on the couch. She'd gotten used to putting them in her junk drawer in case Chuck wanted one at a later date.

Shutting the bedroom door, she stood in the empty room. How long would she need to deal with Rich living in her house?