Page 51 of Crossing Lines

The next thirty minutes consist of us discovering that Evren’s security cameras were hacked and looped to appear like everything was fine. Whoever did it was skilled based on everyone’s pursed lips and concerned gazes. It feels like I’m part of an action movie I didn’t sign up for. The only thing the person did was destroy the guest bedroom I had finished. The furniture is smashed to pieces, and they threw white paint on the wallpaper, making me need to redo the entire wall.

I bend over and pick up a piece of broken wood, part of the armoire I refurbished. A sob catches in my throat. Why would someone do this? What were they after?

The questions are endless, but all are without answers.

I throw the piece of wood back in the pile as Evren walks up next to me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sure,” I lie. Can someone really be okay after this? “Any ideas on who did this? Or why?”

“No. It’s too early to tell.”

Something about his tone causes me to pause. I face him and give him a long look. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” He says it quickly, too quickly.

“Nothing, my ass. Tell me.”

He rubs the back of his neck for a moment before sighing. “We think my house flooding was a targeted attack. We think it’s someone gunning for my business, but we haven’t made headway on it yet.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “So… What now?”

“I don’t know…” He looks around the room, as if lost. “I can get you a hotel room or set you up somewhere else permanently.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here.” He shrugs. “They already made me leave the house I love so much. I refuse to move again, to give them that kind of control yet again.”

“But it’s not safe for you to stay…”

“It will be. My security team will make this the safest house it can be.”

“Well,” I say, “if this is going to be the safest house, I want to stay here, too.”

His lips press into a straight line. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? You’re staying.”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you in danger.”

I know the feeling, because I feel the same way abouthim being in danger. It’s reckless to not take him up on his offer, to leave, but there’s no way I’m leaving him here alone.

“Have you slept at all yet tonight?” I ask, not wanting to argue about it now.

He shakes his head and I grab his hand. “Then we’re crashing in your room. I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s partially true, but it’s also because I don’t want him to be alone right now either.

“Oh, I?—”

“Shut up. I’m making the decision for you.” I drag him to his bedroom. Well, he follows willingly, but I like to think I’m dragging him.

“But the police will be here soon and?—”

“We’ll get to them.” I hop into bed and pick a random side—it’s still perfectly made, which says a lot about his sleeping habits, considering it’s three in the morning. “Get in.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“Well, I am.” I lie back and sigh. “And I need you to lie down next to me.”

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