Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(99)

“Eric!” I gasp. “We should help that man. Is it Mr. Khun? Did they—” I gulp.

“We’re staying put,” he says.

“Just tell me. Did they hurt him?”

The chaos of the restaurant has evolved from the high pitch of terror to the low murmurs of shock. Eric rises, putting a hand on my head as a reminder not to move. He stands there for a long moment, not saying anything.

“What do you see?” I squeak.

“Don’t look,” is all he says. “Do not look.”





Later, I’ll barely remember the ride home. Pieter drove. Eric sat in back, where I pasted myself to his body, still unable to understand what just happened.

Mr. Khun invites me to dinner to explain why he’s going to break our signed contract, but on his way down the block, someone shoots him.

Eric and I left by the back door, but I heard Pieter say under his breath, “…brains all over the sidewalk.”

Why? No matter that Max’s grand theory looks more true by the minute. What prize could possibly be worth a gunned-down tech manufacturer?

I have never shied away from a challenge. I never expected my job to be easy. But this? I did not sign up for this.

And I’m terrified that I’m to blame. What if I hadn’t chosen him? Or what if I’d told Mr. Khun that it was late, and I didn’t want to come to Soho?

I spend the rest of the trip literally trying to rewrite the last two hours. It’s illogical to the extreme. But I do it anyway, answering his call again, telling him that tonight isn’t a good night to meet. Suggesting an alternate date…

We arrive at my building without incident. When we reach the penthouse floor, I don’t wait outside the apartment while Pieter and Eric check the rooms. I just march inside and head straight for my bathroom, where I close and lock the door. I turn on the cold water and pour myself a large glass, and then drink it all.

It takes a while until I can pull myself together. I change into a tent-shaped nightie and waddle out to my bed, getting in. But I don’t turn out the lights. I’m not ready to plunge into darkness with my thoughts.

Eric arrives a couple of minutes later, carrying a tray.

No, my stomach says immediately. It’s the first time I haven’t been hungry in…

Okay, I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t hungry.

Since my lap is gone, Eric puts the tray over my knees. I look down and see a bowl of egg drop soup that I ordered a lifetime ago. Eric has heated it to steaming hot.

“I know you’re upset,” he says quietly. “But you should eat this.”

I pick up the spoon and find that my body knows what to do. Before long, I’m scraping an empty dish and Eric is trading the bowl for a small plate of rice and chicken.

That’s all I can handle, though. After I eat a little, I slide off the bed and carry the tray into the kitchen by myself, abandoning it on the counter.

Eric sits on a kitchen stool, texting madly, an untouched beer in front of him.

“I’m not on the job,” he says when he sees me looking at it. “Pieter and Duff are outside.”

“Drink all you want,” I say in a deadened voice. “I’d join you if I could. Being careful doesn’t seem to help very much, does it?” And now tears are threatening.

“Hey,” he says, gathering me up. “You’re okay.”

“I know,” I rasp. But I don’t, really. Nothing is okay tonight.

“Come on,” he says, steering me out of the kitchen. “Lie down, okay?”

“I have to b-brush my teeth,” I stutter, discovering that those same teeth are now chattering.

“All right.” Eric actually follows me into the bathroom and leans against the counter while I hastily clean up. Then he watches me get into bed, sitting down on the edge afterward. He shuts off the lamp, and then runs a hand down my hair. “Sleep now,” he says.

“Okay.”

“You’re safe here. You know, that right?”

“I d-do.” My teeth click. I’m shivering. “D-don’t go.”

“Okay.” He pets my hair.

But it isn’t close enough. “P-please come over here with me.”

“Careful, Engels,” he whispers. “You might accidentally convince yourself that you like having me around.”

“I’ve always liked having you around,” I say, and then shiver again. “I like it way too much.”

He stands up and unbuttons his pants, kicking them off. Then his shirt, too. I feel the covers shift as he climbs in. He moves over until he can wrap an arm around my great girth.

But it’s not even enough. I shift back into the warmth of his body. I force myself to take a deep, slow breath, and then let it out again. If Eric Bayer’s strong body pressed against mine isn’t enough to make me stop shivering? Then nothing is.

Roughened fingers move slowly up and down my forearm. “Shh,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

He does. His lips find the place where my neck meets my shoulder. And I get a series of soft kisses.

I breathe deeply a few more times. And finally I stop shaking. “Will you stay the night?”

“Anytime, honey,” he says. “Anytime.”