Between her headache, every joint in her body aching—save that one finger—and the blond giant next to her who, bless him, hadn’t tried any funny business, Hannah had zero energy left.
Despite her exhaustion, she didn’t miss when several women flirted with him on the walk home. Beautiful women with hungry glances that locked onto him; a few women even licked their lips. What hurt more was the way their expressions changed as their eyes slid from Dante to Hannah. She wasn’t a threat to these women, just an aberration, a peculiarity, like a puzzle piece that didn’t belong. Despite the attention, Dante appeared to ignore it all and concentrated solely on Hannah, and that focus unnerved her.
Why
was
he here with her? As she drifted along with their light conversation, she only half listened. She kept searching for an ulterior motive, a hint of pity, an angle having to do with Ray, anything.
Somewhere a few blocks north of the bookstore, she’d returned the pepper spray to her purse. It hurt her fingers to hold the bottle. Besides, she could scream pretty loudly if he tried anything.
To his credit, Dante had planted his hands at his sides and hadn’t moved them for twenty minutes. He walked close enough that his massive frame gave her the perception of safety, but he didn’t encroach on her personal space.
Hannah experienced a fleeting illusion of companionship, rapidly replaced by a wave of terror. She was alone with a man. Never mind Dante’s kind, blue eyes and the heat that somehow radiated out from him and wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Despite the fact that he had made no advances, had done nothing improper, she couldn’t overcome the quaking inside her body. Her shivers had nothing to do with the handsome man next to her and everything to do with her wrecked state. Even the slight movement of his light hair in the breeze made her flinch.
God, her mind was a disaster zone.
If he noticed her jumpiness, he gave no indication.
Instead, their conversation, or mostly his, centered on weather, things to do in Portland, and one of her favorite topics, books. He’d transformed from a beefy flirt into a perfect, nonthreatening gentleman. He didn’t even seem bothered when he had to adjust his long stride to match her ridiculously slow pace.
But he paused a few times during the conversation, as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. What was he hiding?
As if reading her mind, Dante finally cleared his throat. “May I share something with you?”
“Maybe. Depends on the information.”
“Good point.” His lips thinned. “Are you Jessica Miller?”
“What?” For the second time today, he rendered her speechless.
And terrified. With her bad foot, maybe she couldn’t run, but she could damn well pepper spray him.
She fumbled in her purse.
Dante didn’t move.
Relief washed over her like a cool shower when her fingers wrapped around the metal tube, and she raised it in front of her. Damn how her arm shook.
“What do you want?”
He still hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle. “I need to deliver a message to you. I’m not here to harm you whatsoever. Please believe me.”
“Who sent you here?”
“I met a man in Philadelphia a little while back. I believe you know him. Raymond Jackson.”
Nausea churned in her belly. “Oh God.”
Her legs went weak, and when he reached for her, she waved him off with a menacing wave of the pepper spray. “Don’t touch me.”
He dropped his hand. “I met Raymond Jackson at the end of his life in Philadelphia.”
“Ray’s dead?” Damn it, but sound and light slid from side to side. She had to concentrate on Dante’s face to remain upright.
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“How did he die?” Like it mattered. At least that monster was gone for good.
He couldn’t look at her. “Stabbed in an alley. But before he died, he asked me to give you a message.”
“Okay.” She spared no sad emotion for that sick animal, dying in the
Despite her exhaustion, she didn’t miss when several women flirted with him on the walk home. Beautiful women with hungry glances that locked onto him; a few women even licked their lips. What hurt more was the way their expressions changed as their eyes slid from Dante to Hannah. She wasn’t a threat to these women, just an aberration, a peculiarity, like a puzzle piece that didn’t belong. Despite the attention, Dante appeared to ignore it all and concentrated solely on Hannah, and that focus unnerved her.
Why
was
he here with her? As she drifted along with their light conversation, she only half listened. She kept searching for an ulterior motive, a hint of pity, an angle having to do with Ray, anything.
Somewhere a few blocks north of the bookstore, she’d returned the pepper spray to her purse. It hurt her fingers to hold the bottle. Besides, she could scream pretty loudly if he tried anything.
To his credit, Dante had planted his hands at his sides and hadn’t moved them for twenty minutes. He walked close enough that his massive frame gave her the perception of safety, but he didn’t encroach on her personal space.
Hannah experienced a fleeting illusion of companionship, rapidly replaced by a wave of terror. She was alone with a man. Never mind Dante’s kind, blue eyes and the heat that somehow radiated out from him and wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Despite the fact that he had made no advances, had done nothing improper, she couldn’t overcome the quaking inside her body. Her shivers had nothing to do with the handsome man next to her and everything to do with her wrecked state. Even the slight movement of his light hair in the breeze made her flinch.
God, her mind was a disaster zone.
If he noticed her jumpiness, he gave no indication.
Instead, their conversation, or mostly his, centered on weather, things to do in Portland, and one of her favorite topics, books. He’d transformed from a beefy flirt into a perfect, nonthreatening gentleman. He didn’t even seem bothered when he had to adjust his long stride to match her ridiculously slow pace.
But he paused a few times during the conversation, as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. What was he hiding?
As if reading her mind, Dante finally cleared his throat. “May I share something with you?”
“Maybe. Depends on the information.”
“Good point.” His lips thinned. “Are you Jessica Miller?”
“What?” For the second time today, he rendered her speechless.
And terrified. With her bad foot, maybe she couldn’t run, but she could damn well pepper spray him.
She fumbled in her purse.
Dante didn’t move.
Relief washed over her like a cool shower when her fingers wrapped around the metal tube, and she raised it in front of her. Damn how her arm shook.
“What do you want?”
He still hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle. “I need to deliver a message to you. I’m not here to harm you whatsoever. Please believe me.”
“Who sent you here?”
“I met a man in Philadelphia a little while back. I believe you know him. Raymond Jackson.”
Nausea churned in her belly. “Oh God.”
Her legs went weak, and when he reached for her, she waved him off with a menacing wave of the pepper spray. “Don’t touch me.”
He dropped his hand. “I met Raymond Jackson at the end of his life in Philadelphia.”
“Ray’s dead?” Damn it, but sound and light slid from side to side. She had to concentrate on Dante’s face to remain upright.
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“How did he die?” Like it mattered. At least that monster was gone for good.
He couldn’t look at her. “Stabbed in an alley. But before he died, he asked me to give you a message.”
“Okay.” She spared no sad emotion for that sick animal, dying in the
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