Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(16)

I was pissed that they had scared her even though I knew they were only walking at this point. I looked ahead, trying to determine if I had ever seen them before, but they didn’t look familiar. They certainly weren’t part of the group that went after her a couple of weeks ago—I was sure of that.

With a quick side step, I moved behind Tria to stand on the other side of her so the two guys would pass us beside me, not her. They didn’t even stop their conversation as they walked by, but Tria relaxed immediately after they passed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“No worries,” I replied. She was still gripping her purse tightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just remembering.”

“Well, don’t,” I suggested. Tilting my head to look over at her, I offered her a goofy half smile. She returned one of her own, so the desired effect was attained.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I mean, for the other night. I don’t think I ever really properly thanked you.”

“You were kinda in shock,” I reminded her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told me. “You didn’t have to go after those guys and risk yourself for—”

I interrupted her with a sharp laugh.

“Risk myself? With those douchebags? Hardly.”

“Still,” she continued, “you got into a fight for someone you didn’t even know.”

“I like fighting,” I told her. “I like to beat people up. It’s what I do for a living, you might recall.”

“I remember.” She sighed and her nose wrinkled up a bit. “The point is still the same—thank you for rescuing me.”

“I was in the neighborhood.” I shrugged and offered her another half smile. She looked back down at her feet and shook her head a little before looking back at me. Her large brown eyes darted back and forth between mine.

“And for doing all of this,” she said with a wave of her arm. “You don’t have to do this—walk me home every night, especially when I get off so late. I wasn’t expecting you to do this, but I’m not even sure if Stan is going to hire another server at this point, and—”

“Tria, don’t worry about it,” I told her. “I only work two nights a week, and I stay up late every night. If I wasn’t doing this, I’d be sitting in front of the TV, trying to figure out why people watch the shit that is on there.”

Tria snickered.

“You’re still going out of your way,” she said, looking up at me again. “And in the middle of the night, no less. I appreciate it.”

I just shrugged again, not yet willing to admit to myself, let alone her, that this little walk of ours was quickly becoming the highlight of my nights. I was kind of disappointed she didn’t have to work the next day.

“Why did you pick this area to live in?” I asked.

“Fin’s offered me the job,” she said. “School isn’t too far away to use their transportation service, and I needed the work. I didn’t have much experience when I filled out job applications, and no one else even called me back for an interview. Everyone seems to be looking for a job, and there don’t seem to be enough to go around.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “I keep hearing that the economy sucks, and whatever politician you are talking to, it’s the other one’s fault. I assume you are going to fix that after you graduate, right?”

“I’ll be happy if I can at least makes some sense out of it all,” she responded.

We made it to the apartment entrance, and I glanced up to see Krazy Katie lying on her back on the fire escape. She had her legs straight up in the air and was doing a bicycle peddling exercise or something.

At least she had her clothes on.

“You’ll never get anywhere on that bike!” I called up to her but didn’t get a response. I laughed quietly as I jerked the door open and let Tria go in first.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Krazy Katie,” I replied. “She’s the resident psycho. Every apartment building needs one.”

“What is she doing?”

“Who knows?” I laughed. “She’s a nut. Harmless enough, but still a nut.”

Tria slid her key into the lock and opened her apartment door. She turned back to me then, and I became increasingly aware of how close we were standing, even though we weren’t actually touching. That made me realize I had only actually touched her twice—once when I yanked her back against me and away from a thug and then later that night when I showed her how to hold her keys.

Her eyes were on mine, but I couldn’t understand her expression. It seemed to be a combination of apprehension and wonder, but that didn’t make any sense. Mostly I noticed the shimmer of the lip shit she had put on earlier, which was emphasized as her tongue darted out over her lips.

My hands began to feel a little clammy, and I didn’t know where to put them. I considered leaning against the frame of the door, but it didn’t feel right, so I ended up shoving the tips of my fingers back into my pockets again.

I swallowed, trying not to focus on either her mouth or the area where the pale skin above her breasts was exposed. I pulled more oxygen into my lungs and realized I experience a similar feeling right before a fight starts—anticipation, excitement, and something else deeper and unnamable.