Matt looked at the clock for the third time. Now it was 3:30 a.m. He’d seen 1:45 and 2:15. Every time he woke, for a moment, he thought he was back at Maya’s. Once, he’d seen a vision of her so real, he sat up to kiss her. But the vision had faded when he moved, and he was left with the longing for her.

He stared at the wall, wondering why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had been days since he last saw her. He pictured the dark curls that framed her face, the small freckle to the side of her nose. The way she cleaned his cuts with such care and made sure he felt okay and didn’t need anything. No one had ever taken care of him like that. Not even his own mother, who was often more consumed in caring for his worthless, needy father.

He’d almost gone to the coffee shop several times since he first went. He wanted an excuse to see her. Something besides being “in the neighborhood” so that he didn’t seem so pathetic. He could just go ask her out. Then he’d have a way to see her and get closer to her. But he knew it would be bad for her, so he stayed away. Maybe once this thing for Antonio was done, he could be with her. But for now, he had to keep her safe and out of that world.

He couldn’t understand why she didn’t want the money. Twice, he’d tried to give it to her and even after he left it behind, giving her no choice, she still wanted to give it back. If she was a college student, working in a coffee shop, living with her aunt, she couldn’t have much money. That wad of bills was probably more than she made in a month at that job. Yet, she refused on some sort of moral grounds he’d never encountered before. No one he knew would ever refuse a wad of cash being shoved at them. Everything ran on money. Everything.

He forced himself to lie there for another hour. He thought he’d fall back asleep, but once he started thinking of Maya, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. When he couldn’t take staring at the wall, tossing and turning any longer, he threw the covers back and got out of bed.

He dressed, having an idea, but not entirely certain what he intended to do. It wasn’t until he was halfway there that he had to admit to himself the truth. He wanted to check on her. To see her house and know she was in there. To be close to her—even if separated by several hundred feet and a lot of wall.

He parked on the street in front of her house. The windows were all dark. Her car sat in the driveway. He hadn’t seen her bedroom, but he pictured it and her lying in bed, covered in blankets, dreaming peacefully. He closed his eyes and imagined being there with her.

A sound made his eyes fly open. Talking. He listened. Two men. The sound was growing closer.

He didn’t see anything in his mirrors or in front of him. Where were they?

Then he saw two shadows walk toward Maya’s house. They paused to look up at it and take photos with their phones. Then they took photos of her car, including the license plate.

One of them turned so that Matt could see his face. Instantly, his hand curled into a fist. That guy had been there that night. He’d been one of thugs punching and kicking him. The other guy must’ve been, too.

The rage lit Matt’s chest on fire. Without thinking, he pushed open the car’s door.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice as low as possible while still getting their attention.

They both turned, shocked when they saw who approached them.

He broke into a run and when he reached them, he didn’t wait. His fists flew, his feet, his elbows. Whatever part of him could be used as a weapon. If only he’d had his gun with him.

“Stay off of this street,” Matt growled.

He clocked one guy in the nose and he dropped to the ground. While he was down, Matt released the fury of his fists on the other one.

He grabbed one by his collar and pulled him close. “Leave the girl alone. She has nothing to do with this.”

The first one got to his feet and managed a few hits on Matt before he kicked the other guy and sent him flying.

“You better watch yourself,” one said, coughing and spitting blood on the driveway. “You’ll get both of you killed.”

After several minutes, the guys took off. One stumbled, one was bent over, hobbling in a hurry. All three of them were bleeding and bruised from the fight. At least this one hadn’t ended with Matt being thrown into the back of a car and dropped in a random alley somewhere.

Matt returned to his car. His hand hurt from throwing punches. His face and chest hurt, too. His ribs hadn’t healed fully and now he’d probably aggravated them. Still, this was nothing compared to his last beating. And he’d managed to get in more than a few hits on those guys. Hopefully that meant they’d stay away.

He remembered telling Maya he wasn’t a fighter. At the time, he knew it was an outright lie. He hadn’t had a chance to fight back, was all. And it’d pissed him off royally. Those guys had turned the deal bad, outnumbered him, and snuck up on him. What a bunch of cheap punks. At least face a guy when you punched him. Hiding in the shadows? Cowards. All of them.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t leave if men would show up to case the place or hurt her. He could not live with himself if something happened to her because of him.

But it was too early to wake her. After 5 a.m. now, but still too early. Instead he sat, keeping a watchful eye over her house, making sure no one else showed up.

When he saw a light go on inside, he got out of the car.