Page 15 of Ruthless Protector

We’d wound up all our open cases, except one, and Van was working that. I was his backup if he needed it, but since he was mainly on surveillance tonight, I thought I’d head home. A beer, a game, and a pizza sounded like fucking bliss. We’d be back at it tomorrow, with a whole new lineup of cases, and I was looking forward to a quiet night.

But when I got on my bike and headed out, I didn’t take the usual route to my apartment. I headed for the house I’d bought for my sister and nephew…the house they’d never gotten to move into. That now had a small, feisty, pink-haired woman with a giant chip on her shoulder, and her niece, living in it.

Willa Hartley had secrets and I got the feeling whatever they were, she was in way over her head. She pushed every one of my buttons, and shit, brought out my protective side. She acted tough, but I’d seen how freaked she was when her niece was sick, how it had killed her to not be able to make her rent.

Hell, the woman looked at me like I’d sprouted a second nose for trying to help, and then she’d actually thought I was the kind of sleazy asshole who’d blackmail a woman for sex. I’d been attempting to be a decent human being.

I hit Maple Drive; the street was quiet as always. I’d been coming here a lot lately, especially after that asshole had come banging on Willa’s door and freaked Fay out.

I slowed down when I saw the brownstone. The lights were on inside, glowing through the frosted glass panels in the front door, the curtains closed tight. The place was solid, had a pretty good security system; though, I’d planned on upgrading it.

I pulled to a stop across the street. How many times had I imagined Kate making the place her own, Louis, my nephew, running around. Family dinners, playing ball at the park down the street with him in the summer, teaching him to ride his bike.

Coming here, looking at this place and what it was supposed to be, what I’d lost, cut me to my damn soul, every time. This house was now a representation of my worst nightmare.

My failure as a police officer.

But worse, my failure as a brother, an uncle, and a protector.

Willa didn’t want anything from me, I got that, she didn’t know me. But the woman was in my house, and that meant, she was under my protection. She was on her own, and from what I’d seen and what Fay had told me—which wasn’t a lot—Willa had no family to speak of and never spent time with friends. Willa appeared to be all alone in the world. Just her and her niece.

Whoever that guy was who showed up, banging on the door, calling their names, spelled bad news, no matter how you looked at it.

Maybe she could handle the guy, the situation, herself, but everything in me rejected the idea. That was probably sexist, and with the attitude Willa had, she’d more than likely tell me so herself if I butted my nose in her business, but I couldn’t drop it.

So far, I’d resisted looking her up, getting info on her background, and I’d keep resisting, because her business was none of mine, but I would make sure she and her niece were safe. That was my responsibility, as a landlord.

Sure it is, asshole.

Okay, maybe I was getting a little creative and mentally adding clauses to the lease agreement, but fuck it, I couldn’t ignore it. I just…couldn’t.

The curtain twitched.

Willa had spotted me.

I pulled my phone from my back pocket and fired off a text.

Don’t freak, just counting windows for some security improvements.

The curtain moved again and I imagined her walking away to get her phone. Her reply came a moment later.

The security system is fine as it is.

I wasn’t surprised that she pushed back, even when it came to making the house safer.

Wasn’t asking your permission.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket before she could respond, started my bike, and headed for home.

My apartment was in Queens, in an area that was busy and noisy, the way I liked it. At night, the sounds of traffic and car horns drowned out the shit in my head. Most nights, anyway.

I’d just sat down in front of the TV with a beer, when someone knocked at the door. I shoved to my feet, strode over, and yanked it open.

Van stood there, holding a six-pack.

“Thought you were on surveillance?”

Van shrugged. “Closed the case, got the pictures I needed. I’ve got the night off.”