Page 17 of Ten

All this time, I had assumed he knew a little about me. It was hard to keep secrets in Houston when your uncle was a high-ranking underworld kingpin, and your ex-husband was a notorious serial killer. Still, it had never occurred to me that Ten might have actually known Kiki.

As if reading my mind, Ten finally said, “We’ll talk when we get back to your place.”

“Go now.” Eric glanced back at the restaurant. “It’s not safe here. Too open.”

“Agreed.”

“Be careful, Nisha.” Eric reached for me, drawing me into a lingering embrace. I closed my eyes and squeezed him back, praying silently that he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire of my messy life.

“You be careful, Eric.”

“I always am.” He pivoted toward his vehicle and left.

“I’ll follow you.” Ten gestured to my Jeep. “Are we stopping anywhere?”

“No. I planned to go straight home.”

He nodded. “Get in. Lock your doors. Drive normally. When you get to your house, pull into your driveway but not into the garage. I’ll check your garage and house to make sure it’s safe.”

“And what if it’s not?” I grabbed his hand, suddenly fearful he would get hurt. “What if something happens to you?”

Ten’s big, warm hand settled along my cheek, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned into his touch, wanting to remember the heat of his skin on mine for the rest of my life. “Then it happens to me and not to you.”

“Ten,” I said, desperate for him not to get hurt, not when things were just starting to get interesting between us.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. It was the sweetest, gentlest kiss, and it made my lower lip wobble. How long had it been since someone had shown me such tenderness? He stroked my face and said, “Get in your Jeep.”

Wordlessly, I nodded and got behind the wheel. He waited until I started the engine and fastened my safety belt to close the door. Once I hit the locks, he backed away and returned to his Tahoe. I made sure he was behind the wheel and ready to go before pulling out of the restaurant parking lot.

He followed close behind, never allowing more than one car to get between us. The way he drove convinced me he knew exactly where I lived. Had he driven by before? Maybe parked on my street and thought about ringing the doorbell? Asking if I wanted to hang out? Was he keeping tabs on me? Making sure I was staying safe? Or was it jealousy that motivated him? Was he afraid I was seeing someone else?

All thoughts of Ten fled when I reached the four-way stop where I normally turned left to go down my street. The space outside my house was packed with strange vehicles. People trampled my front yard and sat on my porch swings and rocking chairs. Some of them had lighting setups with them, and all of them had phones in their hands.

Journalists. Podcasters. Nosy assholes.

Panicked, I turned in the opposite direction, praying none of them had seen me at the far end of the street. Ten followed close behind, and I wasn’t sure what to do. At the next stop sign, I scrambled for my phone and called him. He answered as I dropped my phone in the cup holder. “Nisha.”

“Ten, what do I do? Where do I go?”

“You can come to my place.” His voice filled the interior of my Jeep, the soothing baritone pulsing out of my speakers. “You’ll be safe there. My condo is gated. You won’t be bothered there. At least for tonight.”

“I don’t have any clothes—and Wilford!” I couldn’t leave my fur baby all alone with all those weirdos. “I have to go get him.”

“I’ll go get him,” Ten said calmly. “Let’s go to my place and get you safely behind a locked door. I’ll go back to your house and get the cat and your clothing and anything else you need.”

“He’s mean,” I warned. “Like I have to give him sedatives before I take him to the vet because he’s very quick to swipe with those murder mittens.”

“Hiswhatmittens?”

“His claws,” I clarified.

“I’ve been cut by worse,” he assured me before rattling off his address and then asking me to let him pass me so he could take the lead.

Ten lived in the River Oaks area, not in the super bougie and ultra-expensive part where Vivian and Nikolai had a house obviously. Nearby in a nice but more affordable section. His condo was on the bottom floor of a gated complex that had lush, mature landscaping camouflaging its amenities like a tennis court and pool.

I parked in the covered guest space next to his and grabbed my purse and phone before joining him on the sidewalk. “I won’t get towed, right?”

He shook his head. “I have two spaces with my condo. I’ll bring out the tag later. You can keep it.”

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