he said stiffly. I could hear the hurt in his voice, but I had no clue what I could have said or done to cause it.
"Jude—" I began, but he merely shook his head and then moved toward the bathroom.
"I need to go home," he said and then he was shutting himself off from me both literally and figuratively. I heard the lock on the bathroom door engage. I went to the door, intent on forcing him to tell me what the hell had just happened, but my ringing phone stopped me.
"Falkov," I answered. I listened as the officer on the other end of the phone spoke. The guy might as well have been reading me the weather report for all the concern he showed as he shared his findings with me. So as soon as he was done, I hung up the phone without another word.
It was a few minutes before Jude came out of the bathroom. He looked cool and detached, much like the first few times I’d met him.
It irritated me.
Much more than I wanted to admit.
"The police called," I said. "They didn't find any fingerprints. On anything."
"What does that mean?" Jude asked.
“It means whoever was in your apartment was probably wearing gloves. The police are declining to pursue the case any further."
Jude nodded his head. "They think I lied," he said softly. He seemed unsurprised which just made me angrier, though none of it was directed at him.
"Come on," I said. "We'll go get your cars and then I'll take you home." I didn't add the fact that my plan was for him to pack a bag and return with me to my place for a few days until we got things sorted out. I was still trying to convince myself that it was the safest bet.
Problem was, safety had nothing to do with my line of thinking.
Nothing at all.
While it didn't take long to get to the police station, actually getting Jude's cars back was a fiasco. Like the cops who'd examined his apartment for clues, the officer in charge of returning the evidence to Jude was more interested in why Jude had the cars in the first place. By the time we got out of there, Jude hadn't said a word to me or anyone else. Now, as I sat across from him in the SUV, I could see that he was shutting down.
By the time we got back to his apartment, he was nothing more than a walking statue. The closer we got to his place, the more frantic I became because I knew I was losing him with every step.
As we got off the elevator and walked down the hallway toward Jude's apartment, Jude came to a dead stop when he saw the man standing outside his apartment. “That's one of my guys. We're going to have someone outside your door twenty-four seven."
Jude let out a deep breath and then nodded. He still seemed off, but I noticed as we continued to walk to his apartment, he moved a little bit closer to me. I wanted nothing more than to take his hand in mine so he’d have that added level of reassurance that he was safe, but I still needed to maintain an image of professionalism, even if I'd stopped seeing Jude as a job a while ago.
Upon reaching the apartment door, we gave my colleague a quick greeting.
I was more than a little glad when Jude unlocked the door, entered the apartment and then left the door open for me to follow. I’d been expecting to fight him on letting me back into his private space.
I fully expected Jude to go to the kitchen or living room so we could talk, but he surprised me yet again and walked straight to his bedroom. I was torn on whether or not I should follow him, but my need to know that he was okay won out over giving him some privacy. He was just too quiet for my liking.
When I reached the doorway of his room, he was sitting on the bed, the little plastic bag of cars in his hands. I took a chance and walked to the bed. But instead of sitting down next to him, I stood in front of him. I was working on pure instinct and that terrified me. What if I said the wrong thing and made things worse? What if I pushed him too far? I couldn't lose him. Not now. Not after having