Page 37 of His Sinner

The security guard eyes me and mutters, “Yeah, he does.”

“Trevor, is it?”

He straightens but doesn’t say anything.

I close the distance between us slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder so anyone passing by may mistake our interaction for friendly. “If anything happens to her because you interfered, you’re going to have a much bigger problem on your hands.”

He snorts, stepping out of my grasp. “You trying to threaten me, buddy?”

I smirk. “I’m not your buddy, and I’m not trying to threaten you—I am threatening you. If you hinder our efforts to get the evidence needed to keep Briar safe, you won’t enjoy the consequences.”

His eyes narrow, skin flushing crimson. “I know who you are, pal. Stay the hell away from her.”

So she confided in him about me. “I’m not your pal, and I’m not the guy you’re looking for. You really think I’d be helping her comb through surveillance footage if I was?”

If not for the dozens of witnesses who could walk in on us at any moment, his hands would be flying for my throat. “I know you’re a fucking stalker creep. And I know you’ve wormed your way into her head.” He pokes me square in the chest. “So watch your back.”

“Saint,” Briar calls, reappearing in the doorway.

If not for her contralto voice rooting me in place, I’d rip this guy’s head off.

Without another word, I follow her out the door.

“What was that all about?” she asks while I grab her elbow and pull her down the hallway and out of the building. The spring air now carries an arctic chill.

“You tell me. You certainly seem to know him better than I do.”

How has this man been in her life without my knowledge? I know everything about her. Yet Dickhead Trevor somehow slipped through the cracks.

What else has she been hiding from me?

“We’re work friends. He was one of the few faculty members who was kind and welcoming to me when I started working here. We’d chat when we saw each other on campus, occasionally have lunch together. I told him about you when you started stalking me, and he offered to help. Apparently, he used to be a cop and still has connections in law enforcement.”

Now I really don’t like this guy. I had him pinned the second I laid eyes on him. Typical cop with a superiority complex who still thinks he’s an authority figure wherever he goes, long after he’s turned in his badge. “That explains the hostility. I’m surprised you and Clyde haven’t gotten me locked up yet, Bonnie.”

Briar rolls her eyes. “We’re not Bonnie and Clyde or Velma and Daphne or Thelma and Louise or any other notorious duo you can think of. He’s just trying to be a good friend. He knows you’ve been stalking me, so it’s not exactly surprising that he thinks you’re the one behind all of this.”

“Yes, that certainly would make someone the primary suspect to an ex-cop.”

“Excuse me for trying to protect my own ass.”

“As long as you’re done with him now, I won’t kill him.”

She tugs me to a stop sharply. “Saint, don’t hurt him. He’s my friend, and he’s just trying to look out for me. And for your own good, I’m telling you—don’t go after Trevor. If he has the connections he says he does, you won’t get away with it this time.”

As much as I loathe to admit it, she has a point. Trevor would be a far more difficult target to eliminate discreetly than Austin Emmons or Professor Molester. Trevor likely already has experience with men like me and he’s still standing.

“Just stay away from him.”

She smiles sweetly, batting her lashes, and I brace myself for a sarcastic quip. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay away right after I deliver his baby.”

Briar’s mother is back in town, and this time, Briar is the one who invites me to join them for dinner.

I buy two bouquets on my way to the restaurant, unable to fight the delighted grin.

She wouldn’t be inviting me to dinner with her mother if our relationship wasn’t growing more serious. Wedding bells practically echo in my ears, visions of kneeling when they bring out dessert flashing through my mind.

Fighting the urge to spontaneously propose tonight will be nearly impossible, but I’ve already determined how I’ll be proposing to her: in the dedication of my next book. The book I was only able to write because I met her. My muse.

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