I swiped a sticky bead of blood from my throat. The red smear it left on my fingertips made me woozy. “Just a scratch,” I assured him. “I’m fine.”
He took a slow step closer, tucking his gun back into his holster. I flinched as he lifted my chin to check the cut on my neck. His hand lingered possessively on my jaw, his body a little closer than professional protocol probably called for.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Vero called but I was in a meeting and couldn’t pick up. She left a frantic message. All she said was that you were at Ramón’s Towing and Salvage and you’d forgotten your phone, and you needed help. I got here as fast as I could.”
Ramón must have called Vero. He must have told her Feliks and Andrei were here waiting for me. When she hadn’t been able to get through to warn me, she must have realized she had my phone. And she’d been worried enough to call Nick.
“You mind telling me what the hell’s going on here?” he asked.
“I had an appointment to pick up my van, but Ramón wasn’t here. Feliks Zhirov was inside waiting for me with one of his goons.”
Nick’s hand froze where it cupped my jaw. His eyes skated back and forth over mine, the skin around them creased with worry.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “They ran out the back door when they heard your siren.” His eyes leapt to the rear of the garage, as if he was ready to run after them. “Don’t bother,” I told him. “They’re long gone by now.” I hadn’t seen Feliks’s car when I’d pulled up. He’d probably parked on the next block. The last thing I wanted was for Nick to go looking for them.
Nick dragged the folding chair closer, holding it steady as I slumped into it. The adrenaline rush was fading, and exhaustion was filling the void.
“Tell me everything,” he said.
“Feliks knew we were tailing him the other day. He got the tag number of the loaner car and tracked it here. My mechanic is Vero’s cousin. He must have called her to let her know I was in trouble.” I leaned my elbows on my knees, rubbing the tension from my temples. Not only was I on Feliks’s radar now, but so was Nick.
He rested his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t get Vero’s message sooner.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said through a shaky sigh.
“What did Feliks say?”
“He wanted to know why I was tailing him. I told him I was following Theresa. But he recognized you.”
“Shit.” Nick scrubbed his face as he paced a slow circle around the garage. “How’d you explain that?”
“I told him you and I were … involved. And the fact that you were in my car had nothing to do with him. But I’m not sure he believed me.”
Nick paused, amusement lurking in the suggestive lift of his smile. “If you want to try convincing him, I have a few ideas.”
With a roll of my eyes, I stood up, turning my back on him as I strode to the office to recover my purse. All I wanted was to make sure Vero was okay, to peek in on my kids as they slept, and to kiss them good night.
“Finn, wait.” Nick swore quietly, catching me by the elbow. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to lighten things up. I know you’ve had one hell of a night. And I feel terrible that Feliks roughed you up because he spotted us together.” He shook his head, raking his hands through his dark curls and setting them heavily on his hips. “I should’ve taken my own car. I should never have brought you along. Georgia’s going to strangle me when she finds out—”
“She won’t find out,” I said, ignoring the guilt that tugged at my insides. “I won’t tell her if you won’t.”
A weight fell from his shoulders. He nodded. “Go get your things. I’ll drive you home.”
My knees were still wobbly as I retreated to the office, and I was grateful for the excuse not to drive. I bent to collect the spilled contents of my purse, scraping cosmetics and loose change from the floor and jamming my wallet back inside. Nick’s footfalls grew louder as I reached for my wig-scarf. As he came up behind me, I pushed it deeper under the desk.
“I’m going to have an unmarked keep an eye on your house for a while.” I stood up, ready to protest, but Nick held up a finger. “Just for a few days. Just until we know he’s not going to try to come for you again.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already calling it in. By the time he dropped me off at home, a cop would be stationed down the street from my house, documenting my every move, watching me come and go. This was worse than Mrs. Haggerty. Much, much worse. I used my shoe to nudge the wig-scarf deeper under the desk; I didn’t dare bring it home.