Page 45 of Xactly What She Needs

“Xander,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s just me. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

His arms pull me closer, and when I look over his shoulder, I realize he somehow moved me from the shop floor to the back office. We’re out of sight from onlookers, and I’m suddenly free to express exactly how terrified I am.

“Xander, he’slooking for me.”

“He’s been looking for a while. This is the closest he’s gotten to finding you.”

I blink.

“What?”

At least he has the decency to recognize that he’s fucked up.

“What do you mean,he’s been looking for a while? What have you heard?”

Considering what he said and what was slowly becoming evident, I felt as though I was doing a great job of remaining calm. I could be screaming. Ishouldbe shouting. But I welcomed the curious calm because it was infinitely better than what was on offer.

If there was nothing else to distract from the sheer panic presented before me, I would most certainly have broken down into hysterical sobbing by now. I would have holed myself away under the bed or in the cupboard and refused to accept that, just when thingsseemedto be getting better, they were on the verge of being bad again.

“okay,” Xander starts, his arms loosening. “Now, don’t get angry…”

Does he not know that those words are a precursor to him saying something that I absolutely will be mad about? Apparently, that’s not the common knowledge that I think it is. Oddly, it’s always men that haveproblemsconnecting the dots here. Say ‘don’t get angry’ and someone is, inevitably, going to be angry.

“Edge—”

“Edge? What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He was renting you an apartment. He was hiring you. He likes to know who he’s fucking with,” Xander says defensively.

“Right.” I feel cowed by how easily I’d been drawn into the flourish of anger. “What was Edge doing?”

Xander shifts, forging comfort out of the worn leather sofa they’d left pushed against the wall.

“Edge was checking up on you, you know? His own wife went through something like what you did. Kea was in a state when he met her. It’s part of what took them so long to get together.”

I do remember something about their story. Something about stalking her for two years, and although it hadn’t been said explicitly, there were hints here and there about her past.

“He wanted to know what orwhohe was on the lookout for. And he won’t apologize for not asking ya first, neither. No sense in making ya talk ‘bout stuff like that.”

I’ve never noticed before how his accent changes so drastically when he’s rushing through his words. His words sound harsher like this, and there’s that barely restrained panic. I watch his broad chest expand and relax.

“But he found that your ex was askin’around about you. ‘I miss her so much’, ‘where’s my baby at’, stuff like that. It’s all over his social media. I’m guessing that your people know better than to share anything, though, since Edge would’vementioned if someone had let slip where you are now.”

“They can’t. I didn’t tell anyone, remember? Only my family knew.”

And they would never have let slip where I was, so I know it wasn’t anyone I trust. Which begs the question, how does he know where I am? How could he have found me, when I’ve been so careful? I don’t post on social media anymore. I’ve cut myself off from all the places that need my address; banks, phone companies etc.Hell, I’d have cut off the IRS if it were possible.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I understand. And, um, sorry for freaking out on you. I’m—”

“A little on edge? Don’t worry. I get it.”

I let my weight rest on his side, suddenly reminded of how we were last night. The hot breath, the writhing bodies, the passion that had no beginning or end. How did that wonderful night turn into this horror show?

“And listen. I know this is scary, but I want you to know that you have the full force of theclubbehind you. We won’t let anything happen to you. No one is going to be able to hurt you. Not while we’re around. Got that?”

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