Page 13 of The Bookseller and the Alpha
“Sorry, choked on my water. Luc already apologised.” He gave me a smile. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”
The conversation stalled until after I’d served the meal and we were sitting at my small dining table. Pompy looked up from her bed, watching in case anything fell on the floor. Her nose twitched and Sam laughed. “You and me, sister,” he said. “I’m ravenous.”
We both ate in silence for several minutes. “So, no nasty ex-boyfriends, no money trouble. That rules out the most common reasons. And you said nothing was stolen?”
It was clear Sam didn’t want to talk about Luc anymore. I didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than I already had. I grabbed the conversational lifeline. “None of the valuable books at least. If something else was taken it will take me weeks, maybe months before I know. I’d have to do a thorough stocktake to be sure.” I twirled my fork in my pasta. “Theft just doesn’t seem right. None of the other books are valuable enough to be worth the trouble, and if a student can’t pay for an expensive text up-front I’m usually able to work out a payment plan. Honestly, they could probably read any book they wanted just by coming to the shop a couple of times and reading it in store.”
I finished my food and sat back in the chair. My phone pinged with a text. I picked it up. And froze.
Unknown: Where is it bitch? Hand it over or you’ll be sorry.
What the fuck? And then I remembered. The weird phone call this morning.
“What?” Sam’s voice was tense. He must have seen how my body went rigid.
I stood, my chair clattering to the floor behind me. “This morning! I had a call. I forgot completely because they only left a creepy mouth-breather message. And now I got this text.” I showed him my phone.
“I need your phone.” His voice authoritative, Sam now projected stern protector vibes rather than his earlier golden retriever energy. I handed him my phone. He scrolled to my call history, pulling out his own phone to make a call.
Quietly, I cleaned up from dinner while he talked on the line. He kept me in his line of sight the whole time. He was taking his bodyguard duties seriously.
I didn’t understand it. As I’d told Sam, I had nothing that anyone would want that badly that they had to break into my store to get. And if they had been after one of the more valuable texts that I kept locked up on the top floor, why did they throw all the books off the shelves? I had thought that someone was playing a prank. But the call and now the text suggested a more sinister motive. I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold.
Sam covered the phone, turning to me. “It was probably a burner phone, but we’ll see what we can find.”
I nodded, slumping against the counter. I was done. Normally after dinner I’d read on my couch for a couple of hours, but I was drained. Everything was heavy and my head was starting to spin. I needed my bed. My eyes turned to the couch and I groaned internally. I needed to get Sam set up. My couch really was too small for him.
I hauled myself back upright. Sam, phone up to his ear, mouthed “Where?” to me as I stood. My linen closet was in the corridor which led to the bathroom/laundry and my bedroom. I pointed in that direction, miming laying a blanket on the floor, and then a person sleeping.
He nodded and waved for me to go ahead, swivelling his own body so that he could keep me in view. When the call ended, Sam put his phone back in his pocket, his face thoughtful. “Need any help?” he asked.
“It’s done,” I said. I’d inflated the air mattress with a foot pump and the makeshift bed looked comfy enough. The old red sleeping bag had been in the cupboard for years, but I knew it was long enough for his tall legs, and the mattress would stop the chill from the floor. “Sorry, this is the best I could do at short notice.”
“It looks just fine.” He gave an approving nod. “You even positioned it so I can see down the corridor.” After a pause, he added, “I’m sorry, but I need to check your room. I know it’s a bit awkward, having a virtual stranger wander through your private space, but I promise not to be creepy about it.” The smile he gave me was crooked and a bit sheepish.
“Knock yourself out.” I hadn’t made the bed this morning, but the floor was free of dirty clothes.
He was in and out in two minutes. “All clear,” he said.
Curious, I asked, “What were you looking for?”
“Ways for an intruder to access the room. If the walls had been covered in vines or trellis, for example, it would be easy for someone to climb up. Seeing as we’re on the third floor it’s not too likely but I had to check.”
“Finally, a reason to be grateful for my boring apartment block,” I joked. “And my little balcony?” I pointed towards the tiny balcony that attached to my living area, even though we couldn’t currently see it. We’d closed the drapes to keep the warmth in.
“I checked it earlier,” Sam said. His face shifted, and suddenly he looked older, grimmer. I wanted the joking young man back. “I won’t lie to you. It’s possible that someone could use the balconies on each floor to make their way up, but they’ll have to get through me first.” My stomach twisted. He was putting himself on the line for me. I wanted to cry. It wasn’t fair.
“I’ll give you some privacy to get changed, but you’ll need to keep the bedroom door open tonight.”
I shrugged, letting him know that was fine.
I crawled into bed gratefully, but despite the exhaustion that dragged at my limbs, sleep took a long time to come. After the stress of the day and the weirdness of having someone watching over me, I was wound tight. Pompy was curled upagainst the back of my knees, snoring gently. I counted sheep for about the tenth time and sighed.
Sam’s voice came down the corridor. “You’re safe,” he said. “Relax.”
Surprisingly, I did, and fell asleep.
Chapter 15
