Page 121 of Offside Angel

I glance over my shoulder and, miraculously, Mira is still asleep. Her cheek is pillowed on her arm and she’s breathing, deep and even.

I held her last night and promised I’d protect her. I swore I wouldn’t let Dante hurt her, and I meant it. I won’t. Not physically.

But there are other ways to hurt someone. Even I can’t protect her from all of them.

I slip out of bed and down the hall. Sleep isn’t happening, that’s for damn sure.

I’m making the world’s strongest pot of coffee when Evan texts. I’m outside. Thought you might need backup this morning.

I unarm the security system and crack the front door. Thirty seconds later, Evan is shuffling into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

“The road outside was clear,” he says by way of hello. “No photogs or journalists yet.”

It won’t be long, though. Barely two weeks of wedded bliss, and now, we’re going to have nosy assholes banging on our front gate from sunup to sundown.

“I didn’t ask you to report this morning.”

He shrugs. “It felt important. Especially after yesterday.”

Evan and Daniel were practically carrying Mira inside when they got back to the house. She kept telling me she was fine, but her face was pale and she was shaking. It took most of the night for the tremors in her hands to go away.

“Did you see him?”

Evan shakes his head. “No. The windows were tinted. Daniel couldn’t identify him, either, but Mira was positive it was Dante.”

I wish even a small part of me doubted her. I want to think this is all a misunderstanding and Dante isn’t really hunting her down—but I’ve clawed my way out of enough trenches to know hoping for the best doesn't get you very far.

“Does your P.I. know anything?”

I clench my teeth. “With how much I’m paying him, he should. He can’t pin Dante down. The fucker is like a ghost.”

“I was hoping maybe I could corroborate my information with what the P.I. had just to make sure it’s legit, but?—”

“What information?”

Evan slides his phone across the island to me. “I didn’t recognize the car from yesterday, but I took a picture of the plates. It’s the same license plate number that was on the car outside of the gym. And the car that crashed into us.”

If I had been doubting Mira, there wouldn’t be any room for it now.

“So it was him.”

Evan nods. “Unless she has more than one assassin coming after her.”

“He’s not an assassin,” I snarl. The word is far too official for whatever revenge fantasy Dante is indulging. “He isn’t going to touch her.”

We look at each other in silent understanding. No one is going to touch my wife. Not now, not ever.

“I’m going to do everything I can to protect her, but…” Evan sighs and leans across the island. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I think Mira should see somebody. A professional. I’ve been in this situation before. I’ve known people who have had to live scared for years on end… It can really fuck with your head.”

The thought that I can’t be everything Mira needs bristles, but Evan is right. “She wants to see a therapist. I think it’s a good idea, but…”

“Who can you trust?” he finishes for me. It’s half-question, half-sad inevitability.

I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “Right now? No one.”

Evan leaves to post up outside, and I don’t tell him not to. It’ll be nice to have another layer of protection between the outside world and my family.

As soon as Mira is awake, I tell her about the information leak.

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