Page 96 of Inflame

“Here, stand up,” I say, trying to pull her up.

“No, I need to find my keys,” she says, resisting my help. “Maybe I have them in my carry-on.”

I watch as she piles her purse contents back inside, and then crawls over to her tiny piece of luggage. She tries three zipper compartments until she finally finds her key buried in the bottom.

Claire gets up from the dirty floor—blatantly rejecting my offered hand for help—and unlocks the door with ease.

Impossible woman.

“No deadbolt?” I ask. I am dumbfounded.

“When the door was replaced, I guess Ethan never bothered to tell the contractor that one was needed.”

“Why was it needing to be replaced?”

“I honestly don’t know. I hadn’t moved in yet. I’ve only been here officially since January.”

I resist my snarl. Who the hell moves his girlfriend into an apartment that has little to no security features and a broken elevator? I don’t want to walk away and leave her here. It’s not safe.

“Anyway,” she says softly, turning on a lamp, “thanks for walking me up.”

“My pleasure.” I wheel her luggage inside, setting it against the side wall. Even the paint is a bit chipped. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

I pull myself away from Claire’s place, forcing myself to walk down the hall. I pull my phone out of my pocket and make a call.

“I need you to watch Claire’s place. There’s nothing stopping anyone from breaking in. Keep tabs and report to me every three hours. If you see something suspicious, call for backup, and notify me immediately.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Tyler.”

“But I must ask, are you okay? I know whatever happens in Vegas…”

My fingers rub at the tension forming between my eyes. I wasn’t expecting Tyler to get all emo, but here we are. “I’m fine.” It’s easier than telling him that I’m in over my fucking head with Claire. It’s better than telling him that his job title is essentially…professional stalker.

“Ouch. That’s the most feminine thing you’ve said thus far to me. Next thing, you’ll be calling me to analyze menstrual cups.”

“What?” Is he for real?

“Never mind.”

“Just do your damn job, you prick.”

“Go enjoy a tropical seltzer and some reality TV. You need to unwind some.”

I pull the phone away from my ear, end the call, and shake my head. Tyler better the hell deliver what I need or he can learn to accept being fired. Problem is, I need him in my life more than he’ll ever need me. He is my enabler.

My fingers scroll through my texts, as I jog down the stairs. When I find Asher’s name, I shoot him a message.

Nic: Your guy Tyler better not let me down.

Asher: He won’t. Just don’t scare him off with your asshole tendencies. Or at least give him a heads-up when you go into grumpy mode.

Nic: You’ve always been annoying.

Asher: And you’ve always been set in your ways.

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