Page 92 of A Tempting Seduction

“One hundred percent,” Roan nodded.

As we headed toward the door, Simon called out behind us. “Ruby?”

I turned back to face him.

“We're going to figure this out. I promise.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Ford guided me out of the building and into his truck, his movements careful and protective. As he started the engine, all I could think of was how much I just wanted to go back to Miss Gladiola’s and Little Grandma’s kitchen and be blissfully ignorant, baking a cake.

Chapter Twenty

The drive to my house passed in thick silence. Ruby stared out the passenger window, her hands folded in her lap like she was trying to hold herself together through sheer force of will. Lance was dead. Beaten and shot. The mongrel had threatened her, threatened me, threatened her family, and now someone had put a bullet in the back of his head.

I should feel something about that. Relief, maybe. Justice. But all I felt was a cold knot of dread in my gut. If someone had killed Lance, what did that mean for Ruby? Was she next on the list? Pretty dang likely, and that was unacceptable.

My truck turned into the driveway, and I hit the garage door opener. Before I could close the door, Roan appeared beside my truck.

“Hold up,” he said. “I need to clear the house before you close that garage door.”

I nodded and left the door open. “What's the problem?”

“Standard precaution.” Roan's hand moved to his jacket, and I caught the telltale outline of his gun.

Ruby's sharp intake of breath told me she'd seen it too. Her face had gone pale.

“It's okay,” I told her quietly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “He's just being careful.”

But seeing Roan draw his weapon reminded me of my own responsibilities. I had a Glock 19 in my gun safe, and it had been sitting there unused for too long. Time to change that.

Roan moved toward the house smoothly and professionally. He checked the windows, tested the back door, and disappeared around the side yard. Ruby watched every move through the windshield.

“Ford.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “This is really happening, isn't it? Someone wants to hurt me.”

“I won't let that happen.”

She turned to look at me, something fragile and broken in her eyes. “How can you promise that? You can't control what other people do.”

“Maybe not. But I can control what I do.” I shifted the truck into park but left it running. “Are you hungry? I could make us some spaghetti when we get inside.”

She shook her head. “I'm not hungry. We ate enough at Miss Gladiola’s and Little Grandma's.”

She was right. Neither of us needed food right now. What Ruby needed was safety, comfort, and time to process everything that had happened.

Roan emerged from the back of the house and jogged toward the garage, holstering his weapon. “All clear. No signs of forced entry, no surprises waiting inside.”

“Thank you.” I pulled the truck the rest of the way into the garage and hit the button to close the door. The mechanical whir of the motor seemed unnaturally loud in the enclosed space.

Ruby climbed out of the passenger seat on unsteady legs. I came around to her side of the truck and put my arm around her waist, giving her my strength.

“Come on. Let's get you inside.”

My house felt different with Ruby in it. Warmer somehow, like the very walls felt her presence and became more welcoming. She stood in my living room looking lost, her gaze unfocused and distant.

“Lance is dead.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact. “Someone beat him and shot him.”

“Yes, baby. They did.”