Page 3 of Untouchable

“No, I can get it. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not, but I’m doing it.” He dumps the pan into the trash can and leans against the wall of windows. “So, tell me about this stalker.”

Okay, I’m not sure what just happened. We were cleaning up goat shit, and now we’re talking about my stalker? Maybe I should’ve planned this for another time.

“You have like a notepad or something? I have a lot of information.”

“Photographic memory,” he states, staring toward me.

I nod and chew the inside of my cheek. “Okay, well, I guess it started a little over a month ago. I noticed this guy… tall, tattoos, always wearing black… and he was following me.”

The man nods. “Everywhere?”

“I mean, yeah. I noticed him here, in the parking lot when I leave, and most recently at home. That’s when I called for help. It seemed like a coincidence… before I saw him at my home.”

The man tenses and stands straighter, his eyes intent with mine. They’re blue, maybe bluer than Siren’s. “You saw him at home? What’s your address?”

My mom always said if someone makes you uneasy, you shouldn’t feel obligated to continue a conversation. That doesn’t apply here, right? This man is supposed to be intimidating. It’s his job.

“Thirteen-twelve Black Bear Road. It’s out on the west side of the mountain.”

“How many times have you seen him at your home?”

I shrug. “Three or four in the last two weeks. I called the cops twice, but every time they get there, he’s gone. I think they think I’m insane.”

The man nods toward me. “Are you comfortable with me staying with you?”

My eyes widen and I suck in the scent of hay. “Staying with me? Why would you stay with me?”

“To catch this asshole. See, I could stalk your house too, but if this guy is watching you, he’ll know I’m there, and he won’t show his face. If we leave out the back door tonight and I lie low in your back seat, we can sneak into the house, and maybe have a better chance of running this piece of shit down.”

I tilt my head to the side. Siren dated this guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s cool. Siren dates a lot of losers. The only true testament I have is that my best friend Clementine married Ox’s buddy, and I know they wouldn’t recommend someone to me who wasn’t safe to be around. But at the same time, I don’t know about this. I’ve never lived with a man. I’ve barely talked to men. Even the gentlest of them makes me nervous. I don’t want to be around this big, intimidating brute all day and night.

No. I want to go home, whip off my bra, eat ice cream out of the carton, and watch trash TV.

“Look, I know this is not ideal,” Ox says, his tone deep and rasped. “Best-case scenario is that this guy shows up in the next couple of days and we nab him right away. And you don’t have to worry about food. I come with my own.”

My brows wrinkle as the hostess in me takes over. That’s another thing my mom always taught me… to treat guests like family. For some reason, right now, that side of me comes out in full force. I might actually need therapy. “Oh my God! You don’t need to bring your own food. I can cook for both of us. I have plenty. Besides, I love to cook, and no one is ever around. So…”

“That’s not necessary. This is a job. I come with my own food and a sleeping bag.”

Right. A job. I shake my head. This is a job, not an opportunity to showcase my eggplant parmesan. “Payment. How much will something like this cost me, and what are your credentials?”

He clears his throat. “I spent ten years in the Army. After my final tour, I went to work doing armed security for a few banks out in Arizona. After that, I wanted a change of pace, so I joined the Anti-Heroes MC of Rugged Mountain. We were hunting bounties in the area while I was with them. This would be the first security job I’ve taken since my work in Arizona. Typically, I charge around $200 an hour, but given that this is a dangerous situation, you’re in a bind, and you’re a friend of a friend, I’ll do this free of charge, given you leave a good review.”

“No. I can’t let you do this for free. I need to pay you something.”

“You pay with your review.” He unfolds his massive arms and leans away from the window, striding toward the door. “Let’s go.” I try to study the tattoos that cover him, but he’s too far away, and the room is far too dark.

“Like now?” My stomach turns.

He nods. “Yeah. You want this guy gone, right?”

“Well, yeah, but my house is a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

He doesn’t reply. He just keeps heading toward the back door. And while I love the view of his giant frame moving through the warehouse, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

Chapter Two

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