Page 156 of Tangled Like Us
My stomach drops.
Nate.
I look from Thatcher to Farrow to Maximoff beside me. These are the three men that have been so inextricably affected by the bad apple that I brought into the house.
I clear a pained ball in my throat. “What’s the probability that Nate is the one who broke in?” It hurts even saying his name.
Thatcher explains, “The team is still looking into where he was tonight.” His eyes carry more security than anything I’ve met. As though to say,you’re safe in my arms no matter where he is.
I want to be shielded within Thatcher Moretti’s powerful embrace tonight, tomorrow, and next week and far beyond Halloween.
I’ve never met such a taunting dream. And this one is taunting me oh-so-very hard.
I take a tight breath. “I just want this to be out in the open. The threat of Nate isnotenough to make me want to move out of the townhouse. In fact, it’s exactly why I think moving will serve little purpose.”
They all wait for me to explain. Their concern bearing down on me. This is the most I’ve spoken about Nate in a long while.
“I have a restraining order against him. If I move somewhere in the hopes of keeping my new address private fromNatein particular, I won’t be able to. One of the provisions of the restraining order is that he has to know my home address just so he can stay away from me.”
They all tense.
Thatcher’s nose flares, his eyes pierced like he could murder Nate.
Farrow is not much better, and Maximoff is cracking his knuckles next to me. His glare just as hot and deadly.
My coffee has gone cold in my hands. I haven’t even taken a sip. “To be frank…it feels more violating if Nate knows something that ismeantto be private.”
Like the location of a new home.
I would much rather protect what we have. Maintain control.
“We’re not moving,” Maximoff reiterates, and this time, both Thatcher and Farrow nod without a single hesitation.
The need to scrub the house and myself clean hasn’t vanished. I set my mug on the coffee table. “Do you think you can check my room again?” I ask Thatcher.
Partly, I want him to ensure it’s safe. But really, I want to share his company for longer tonight.
He’s already headed to the staircase. “I can check now.”
33
THATCHER MORETTI
I knowJane better than I’ve known past girlfriends. I know she always tries to push forward with a lighthearted stride. I know that I handle things a lot worse. I’m about as fucking walled-off and shut down as they come.
With most people.
For as much time as we’ve spent around one another, Jane and I—we’ve never dug deep into the past surrounding Nate. Never breached anything personal, anything emotional. We just touched on security facts: Nate only got a short stint in jail and a restraining order, not allowed near Maximoff or Jane.
And I promised Jane I’d protect her.
I still take fault for the past. I’m her bodyguard, and a serious target wasn’t in my peripheral or even on my radar. And I’m not making that same mistake again.
It’s why I’m dialed into comms chatter tonight, and I sweep her bedroom a fourth time for threats and hidden cameras while Jane takes a quick shower.
The team is concerned the suspect broke in to bug the house.
“You need to check the outlets,” Akara tells me over comms. “Fake USB ports can double as cameras.”
