Page 2 of His Juliet

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite leave.”

“Why?”

I paused, trying to decide what to tell her. “I’m in a bit of trouble and need to stay here until things blow over.”

A noise at the front door jolted me into action. I leapt over the counter, snagged the woman around the waist, and pulled us both to the ground, my gun already in hand. She struggled against me, her breaths growing more panicked.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay,” I murmured, pulling her tighter to my side. Fuck, she smelled good.

I held my breath and there it was—someone was definitely trying to open the door.

I pulled out my cell and handed it to the woman. “If he gets inside, I want you to hide wherever you can and call Matteo.” Her wide eyes met mine, glassy with fear. I gripped her jaw. “Nod if you understand. Hide and call Matteo.”

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

I released her chin and positioned myself in front of her.

We waited in tense silence, but as the minutes ticked by, there were no other noises. It seemed the Butcher had moved on.

I sat back with a sigh of relief. “Alright, that should be enough excitement for the evening.”

I turned back to look at my little bookstore owner. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and her chest was rising too rapidly.

“Shit. Are you having a panic attack?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a whimper. I recognized the signs from when Sienna, Matteo’s sister, was younger and had panic attacks.

“Okay, okay, it’s going to be fine.”

I gently pried the limp slice of pizza out of her grasp and ate it in three large bites before taking her hands in mine.

“Just breathe in and out,” I said around a mouth full of food.

Her brow furrowed. “You just ate my fucking pizza.”

“Language,” I scolded, my words muffled as I chewed. “Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t swear.”

Her pursed lips told me exactly how ridiculous I sounded.

“Whatthe fuckis happening?” she asked, sounding steadier.

I choked on a laugh before finally swallowing the rest of the pizza. “Are you still having a panic attack?” I squeezed her hands, frowning at how cold they were.

“I’m okay.” She took another shuddering breath. “But I still don’t know what’s happening. Are you here to hurt me?”

Her voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, it crushed me.

“No, sweetheart. No one is going to hurt you. We just need to hang out here for a while.”

I reached behind me, grabbing the pizza box off the counter and handing her a slice of pepperoni. “Eat that. Do you have something to drink? Water or scotch?”

She took the pizza from me, still looking wary. “Umm, I think we’re fresh out of scotch.”

I grinned. “Good thing I’m not.” I reached into my jacket pocket and fished out a couple of travel-size liquor bottles I’d snagged from the hotel room I’d stayed in last night.

“I think I’m having some sort of break with reality,” she said. But she took the mini bottle of tequila.

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