Page 121 of Blindside Sinner

For about five minutes when I wake up, the world is perfect. I’m in Beck’s bed, snuggled against his perfectly perfect body. I’m warm and safe with his arms around me.

But then a flash of memory takes me back to the night before.

The apartment. The note on the bed. The smell of bleach and fear.

My stomach curdles. It’s irrational, probably an overreaction, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. It feelspersonal.

That’s what stalking is, anyway, right? It’s personal. It’s invasive. It’s the shadows in the corners coming to life when there’s no one else there to protect you.

But aside from the Bloodhound, I can’t figure who would care enough about me to stalk me. He’s the obvious choice—except that he wouldn’t bother stalking. He’s more of the kill-first, ask-questions-later-or-not-at-all type. He doesn’t have the patience to creep around in the background and write anonymous letters like a perv.

So who? Who is doing this?

Andwhy?

I lay my hand over Beck’s heart. I count the beats for a minute. The counting reassures me. Numbers are simple: two always comes after one. It never changes, never varies. That’s what I need right now: certainty.

The problem is that Beckett Daniels is a lot of things, but he sure as hell isn’tcertain.

Part of me wants to tell him everything. But the thought of scaring him away is almost too much to bear. What if I’m too much? What if my baggage crushes this fragile little thing blooming between us?

That would break me permanently.

He stirs, opens his eyes, and smiles. “Morning, angel.”

There isn’t much better in the morning than a Beckett Daniels smile. It’s almost enough to banish that unsettled feeling in my stomach I get when I think about last night. If just a smile can make me feel so much safer, imagine what he could do if he knew the full extent of it? He could cradle me in his arms and whisper strong promises in my ear.

I’d let him. I’d believe him.

I’ve made up my mind, though: there isn’t a reason to involve him.

I have to fight this battle on my own.

I tilt my chin up and look at him again. His hair is tousled and his eyes are sleepy but damn—he looks good.

“I have new onsite security starting today.” His voice is soft and his arm tightens around me like he’s prepping for me to argue. “And I talked to Viv. You can take the day off.”

That one takes me by surprise.Hetalked to Vivian? For me?Voluntarily?

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“No problem. The movers will be here at eleven.”

“Movers?” I sit up on my elbow. “Am I going somewhere?”

He nods, faux-innocent. “Mhmm.”

“Nice try, but I'm not quitting.”

“Of course you're not. Not as long as I’m still in charge.”

“You've never been in charge, but I digress. I don't need movers. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well, I'm not dragging what’s left of your shit through the house myself.”

I blink again, still not getting it. “Beck, what in the hell are you talking about?”

His voice, when it comes out, is deadly serious. “You're moving in with me.”

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