Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(19)

He paused to let that sink in.

“You don’t need to run away from me to make a phone call or have a personal conversation or conduct a business meeting or whatever. Just forget I’m here.”

She scoffed. “You’re two feet away, but I’m supposed to pretend you’re blind, deaf, and dumb?”

“Pretend whatever you want. The point is, don’t compromise your safety by avoiding me because you’re trying to hide the details of your personal life. I’ve seen all this before, Brynn. I know how people react in these situations—”

“Like having a close friend murdered and then being forced to smile and act normal while a posse of armed bodyguards follows me around everywhere?”

“Yes.”

She looked away. Erik waited.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I hear what you’re saying. And you’re right, I was planning to step away and call my sister to hear more about my ex-boyfriend, who I know I shouldn’t give a damn about, but for some crazy reason I do, all right?”

“Call her from the car. I’ll put my earbuds in if it makes you feel better.”

She just looked at him. He saw a trace of vulnerability in her eyes, and he wondered what her ex had done to her.

“Okay,” she said. “But as long as we’re here, we may as well make a pit stop. Can you let me out of your sight for three minutes, or do you need to follow me into the bathroom?”

“I’ll wait in the snack aisle.”

“Fine.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a twenty. “You can pick us up some Pop-Tarts.”





BY 6:15, Brynn had knocked out everything on her to-do list. She’d unpacked her bags, organized her case files, and even squeezed in a grocery run to pick up necessities, all the while being shadowed by muscle-bound security agent Trent Reese, who’d uttered a grand total of six words during their outing.

Brynn emerged from her bedroom and found him at the breakfast bar, hunched over a laptop. He looked up as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said.

Like the rest of the corporate apartment, the kitchen had an impersonal, catalog feel to it, right down to the empty pewter bowl in the center of the granite island. Everything was relentlessly beige—the paint, the sofa, the carpet—and Brynn longed for her cluttered bungalow with its rich wooden floors and antique rugs.

Brynn grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Across the hall. We’re about to change shifts.”

They were doing rolling shift changes, staggering the start times for security reasons.

“Erik’s on his way over,” Trent added as he flipped shut his computer and stood up.

“Isn’t he done for the day?”

“No, ma’am. He’s on until midnight.”

A brief knock at the door, and then Erik walked in. Brynn was still getting used to the fact that all these people had a key to her apartment. It made sense, she supposed—especially if they were going to be coming and going at all hours—but she wasn’t crazy about not being able to walk around in her underwear whenever she wanted.

Erik looked her up and down. “Where are you going?” he asked, noticing her workout gear and earbuds.

“Out for a run.”

He shot a look at Trent.

“And after that, I’m going out out. Ross and I are having dinner at Otto’s Tap Room.”

Erik’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you were working tonight.”

“Nope. We always take the night off right before a trial.” She didn’t mention that she was prone to anxiety attacks if she worked the night before. “I go for a run to clear my head, and then Ross and I head over to Otto’s for burgers and beer. It’s kind of a pretrial ritual we have together.”

Erik just looked at her.

“Are you going to tell me that’s not allowed?” she asked.

“No. But there’s a fitness room upstairs with a treadmill. Three, in fact.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” She plunked her hand on her hip. “Treadmills make me feel like a hamster. I prefer to run outside, in the park. On an actual trail surrounded by birds and trees and fresh air. Can’t someone come with me?”

He glanced at Trent, and Brynn felt her irritation rising.

“Look, Liam said as few disruptions as possible,” she reminded him. “And I know this may seem like nothing to you, but my pretrial routine is important. It’s how I get my head in the game.”

Erik didn’t say anything.

“Actually, I was up there earlier,” Trent said, drawing Brynn’s gaze away from Erik. “It’s a really nice fitness center. They even have a rooftop pool.”

“No, she’s right,” Erik said. “We’ll figure it out. Where’s Jeremy?”

“Putting gas in the Expedition,” Trent reported.

Erik looked at Brynn. “Give me twenty minutes. I need to go change. I’ll have Jeremy scope out the route on his way back here. Draw it out for me, and I’ll text him a picture.”

“Scope out the route?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him. It was a battle of wills, and he had the upper hand, because he wasn’t actually insisting that she do what he wanted. No, he was offering to let her go, but it was going to be a huge pain in the ass if Jeremy had to scope out her pathetically short jogging path.