need for space. He needed her safe. “Maybe you should stay with me until this is over.”
Liv’s head whipped his way so fast he was afraid she’d crash the car. “What?”
“I’m worried about how Royce is ramping this thing up. Making Geoff drive Jessica home? Keeping tabs on me? He’s dangerous, Liv.”
She laughed and turned onto his street. “I think I’ll be fine.”
“I’d like to be sure.”
She gave him a look that said he’d violated one of the central rules of the manuals. He’d gone too far. Said too much. And now her walls were officially back up.
She pulled into his driveway. “I can take care of myself, Mack.”
“I know you can, but I’d feel better if—”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’ll call you.”
“When?”
She shrugged. “Couple of days.”
He gaped, heart thudding. “A couple of days?”
She sucked in a quick breath, the only sign that this was all bullshit. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Refuse to get out? Mack threw open his door. He’d barely had time to shut the door before she shoved the car in reverse. Mack stood in the driveway and watched her drive away.
He was left alone, once again, with the question that always seemed to follow in her wake.
What had just happened? But this time, a new question immediately followed. How the hell was he going to make sure it happened again?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two nights later, Liv lay awake, clutching her phone to her chest, calling herself every name in the book for her own stubborn fear of falling, when a sound outside brought her upright.
Probably just a raccoon.
Or maybe one of the goats got loose.
Or Hop had decided to come back to work on the tractor some more.
But at the unmistakable scuff of shoes on gravel, she bolted out of bed, secure in the knowledge that someone was sneaking around outside her apartment. Probably a more well-adjusted person would worry first and foremost about their safety, but Liv’s first thought was how annoying Mack was going to be when he was proven right that Royce was ramping things up.
Goddammit. She hated it when he was right.
Walking on tiptoe, she crept down the short hallway to the living room—just as a footstep thudded lightly on the staircase outside.
Maybe it was Rosie. It had to be, right? She just needed . . . something. At eleven o’clock at night.
Another footstep on the stairs made the hair on her arms stand erect. That was way too heavy of a footstep to be Rosie. Panting now, Liv looked at her phone and tried to calculate how long it would take the police to arrive if she called 911. Ten minutes? What if the intruder went to the main house and attacked Rosie?
Liv hit the emergency call button and dropped to the floor. A dispatcher answered almost immediately and asked her to state her emergency.
“I think someone is trying to break into my apartment.”
“Okay, ma’am. Can you give me an address?”
She rattled it off.
“Where are you right now, ma’am?”
“On the floor of my living room.”
“And you can see someone?”
“I hear him. I think he’s coming up the stairs.”
“Is he inside the house?”
“What? No. I—I live in an apartment above the garage. The staircase is outside.”
“I am sending officers to your residence. Can you tell me your name?”
“Liv.”
The dispatcher remained calm. “Liv, I’m going to stay on the phone with you until officers arrive.”
“Do you know how long it will take?”
“I have one patrol car five minutes out.”
“That’s too long.”
Liv army crawled to the window. The dispatcher asked her what was going on. Liv drew back a corner of the curtain and peeked out. It was too dark to see anything.
“I don’t see him, but he’s definitely coming up the stairs.”
He hadn’t yet rounded the corner of the building.
“Liv, I need you to sit tight.”
“I’ll call back.”
She hung up over the dispatcher’s protests. Still crawling, she moved to the door. With slow motions, she reached up and winced as she turned the deadbolt. It made a low click. Liv froze. The man didn’t stop, so either he hadn’t heard the noise or he didn’t care.
Liv grabbed the nearest object—a Birkenstock—and stood. Sucking in a breath, she whipped open the door. She took the first flight of stairs two at a time, hit the landing, and swung the shoe as if she were trying out for Wimbledon.
It connected with a face, and the man let out a surprised grunt. His arms helicoptered for one terrifying moment as