Page 26 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

Right. Probably because of the mountain of evidence that I was shown before I agreed to this job.

Ignacia is trying to pick herself up in the kitchen by doing normal things like turning on the kettle and throwing two god-awful chai tea bags into two of her pretty floral mugs.

I’m over here on the other side, pretending to be waiting with a level head, while inside, I’m a hot, fuming wreck. That bastard could have abused her physically, emotionally, or in other ways. He’d obviously hurt her because she was shocked he found her.I know what a frightened, cornered animal looks like. I’ve seen that expression on too many of my clients when I get there. A few weeks in, they start to reclaim their lives back. I don’t do it for them. I just give them the tools to help. Also, knowing I’m there to stand between them and whatever dangers and trials they’re facing truly helps.

It’s rare that I have to enter into bone-crunching mode. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever broken a single bone unless it was in my own body, and the few times have been sports-related scenarios. That little douchebag brought all the impulses forcarnageout of me. I would have loved to pick him up, snap him in half, and let both those halves beg this woman for her forgiveness.

Alas, I know that’s not the way problems are solved, even if they fucking should be. I didn’t do anything but protect Ignacia like she was a client or—orSam. That’s her real name. But I have no right to use it. She hasn’t given me permission. She hasn’t given me anything about her real life yet, but she’s going to because I asked. Because she needs help. There are zero options right now.

I’m going to keep her safe. I’m going to eliminate the threat. I’m going to do what I said and give her a life back.

This is now my job.

She’s still shaking when she brings both mugs to the table. With a shaky breath, she sits down in front of one. I notice she hasn’t added any cream to hers. I know she doesn’t drink her tea without it, so I walk to the fridge, get the container, and add a splash to her mug until the offensive brew turns beige.

I’m going to suck it up and drink mine because it looks calm, domestic, and gentle, and right now, she needs that. She doesn’t need another display of power and muscles. The threat has already been chased off. Now, we’re going to deal with the fallout, and coming down from a real shock is always rough.

She looks like she needs a hug. But I’m just not the guy to do it. I’m such an asshole, which is no newsflash to me, but right now, I hate myself for it.

I add some cream to my tea and put the container back in the fridge, which makes a weird humming noise and then a small crunch. It’s one of those ancient old beasts from the forties or fifties, and I make a note to have someone come and look at it. I’ll find a specialist who deals with old appliances, even if I have to fly them out.

Wow. You’re seriously getting into this, aren’t you?

I sit quietly at the table, forcing myself to sip the spicy cinnamon tea until Ignacia is ready to talk. I’m not sure ready is the right word, but eventually, she does raise her eyes. They’re swimming with tears, but she’s making an effort not to let them fall. Just seeing that moisture makes me want to race out the door, run miles down the gravel road if I have to, and find Aiden. Fuck, I’d chase down his car, barefoot on said gravel, if I could reach him and kick his ass for what he’d done to this woman.

Whatever he did, he made her suffer in some way, and that is un-fucking-acceptable. Make no mistake, it will be rectified. Justice will be motherfucking served straight up, even if I have to ram it down the bastard’s throat myself.

Ignacia lets out a sigh that is pure misery. She blinks again, clearing her eyes, then whips them away and studies her tea. “Do you want the long or short version?”

I’d like the version where I kill your ex for you.

Well, not really. Because I don’t do murder. Never had to, thank goodness. In my line of work, it’s sometimes a definite possibility. When I’m working, I do carry a weapon in order to fully protect my clients. Some of them have gone through situations of extreme violence, and some of them have people who want to make sure they don’t wake up the next morningor any other morning. I’ve discharged my weapon several times, but I’ve never had to take a life.

“Whatever you’d like to tell me,” I reply.

She sips her tea so shakily that it dribbles down her chin. She quickly wipes it away, but it’s like she’s not even really paying attention to it. She looks at the table like there’s a live-action show of her past playing right there.

“The short version, then. Girl meets boy; girl thinks boy is perfect; girl is incredibly stupid. For years. Boy does super shady shit for most of that time. Not cheating on her or anything. Just stealing her identity and using her social media to scam people. Boy has all her personal information, so he sets up fake accounts under her name. Multiple fake accounts. Online. Bank accounts, offshore shit. And then he really gets into scamming. Low level. He only takes a small amount from the people he rips off because everyone knows the police are not willing to do anything over small amounts. But fifty dollars here and a hundred dollars there adds up.

“Boy gets confident. He starts making thousands of dollars a day. Under. Girl’s. Name. Girl finds out eventually, but it’s already been going on for years. Girl threatens to expose him to the cops, but Boy points out she’d only be exposing herself. Even when he wasn’t using her name and was doing all the horrible shit under a fake name, he was still doing it on her computer and laptop and phone. There was literally no way to prove it wasn’t her.”

She looks exhausted, but I don’t say anything because any words I use would be wrong right now. She doesn’t need to hear cursing and promises of bloody scenarios where I put my hand down Boy’s throat and tear him a new asshole through his mouth and leave his lips down below so no one knows which is the mouth and which is the butthole. Also? Wow. That’s just gross.

“Girl tells Boy she’s finished. She just wants a clean break. But Boy pursues her, even after she moves out. Even after she tries to salvage her life. Boy tells Girl that he could destroy her at any time. She threatens to go to the police for a restraining order, but again, he tells her that getting the police involved isn’t a great idea since Boy has never laid a finger on Girl. There have been zero reports. She’d have to have some kind of physical proof that Boy abused her in some way. Girl starts recording how Boy is stalking her, but he’s careful not to get caught. He’s never on cameras. He’s always sneaky and crafty, the way he’s always been, even when she didn’t know it. And then, just to prove he can, Boy appears in Girl’s apartment. He somehow gets in, hacks the cameras, steals her laptop, cracks the password, and starts the scamming again. Girl gets really freaked out.”

“Girl is an up-and-coming designer and has lots of friends all over the place. One friend knows someone who knows someone who makes fake IDs, and Girl knows that with a fake ID, she can disappear. She can take her savings and run and hide. Gather evidence and try and put together something that indicates she isn’t guilty. Girl had some money saved from said designs that Boy couldn’t get at because she kept the money as cash in a bank drawer, and she never let Boy know about it. Girl gets her fake ID. Girl buys a super cheap, shitty acreage in the middle of nowhere with said fake ID. Only Girl’s parents and sister know where she is. Then, Girl drops off the face of the earth and becomes someone else. Girl starts to think she’s safe but still sees no way she can return to her regular life. And then, Boy finds her, and everything is over.”

“No. Nothing is over,” I bark raspily.

“Nothing is the same,” she huffs weakly.

“You’re right about that. Nothing will be the same again.” I let my fist come down on the table too hard, which makes her jump. I didn’t mean to scare her. I flatten my palm, stroking the old oakwood in apology. “Nothing will be the same again because now you have me fighting for you, and it just so happens I’m not only rich. I also own a company that offers personal protection. More than that, I have a lot of friends who are great with computers. Boy thinks he’s a good hacker and a scammer and that he’s covered his trail by pinning all of it on you? We’ll fix it all. You can have your life back. You’re a victim of identity theft, and we’ll find a way to make that clear. Boy will go to jail. Boy will never be able to hurt you or anyone else again, I promise.”

“Scammers don’t go to jail. And hackers go for like maybe a year. No one cares. It’s not like he murdered anyone. I’m the one who took my old life and vanished. I’m the one who quit on it instead of staying and fighting.” Then, she quickly backtracks on that. “Even if they go to jail for a year, I don’t want to go. I don’t want a criminal record. I want my name cleared. I don’t want to pay for something I didn’t even do. You know what I would like? I would like Aiden to pay the money back. All of it. Everything he took. Probably from old people who didn’t have a dollar to spare, people who weren’t great with money, or people who couldn’t figure out that whatever he was running was a con. Jesus. I couldn’t figure it out, and I was with him for three fucking years.”

Threeyears.

That asshat stolethree yearsfrom this woman, in addition to her identity, her dignity, her peace of mind, and probably her heart and soul. I’m sorry I let him go now. It would have been ultra satisfying to break him in half. Not that it’s humanly possible. Is it? I’d like to do an experiment to prove if it could be done or not, using one foul piece of shit test subject. Aiden. Christ, I should have figured he’d have a name like Aiden.

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