Fight

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Whoever did this kept it right here. Nothing is missing?”

“Not that I can tell,” I said. “Not that I have a secret safe full of diamonds or something.”

“No secret safe. Just secrets.”

Tripp tucked his gun and walked to the kitchen window and looked out. He then opened the fridge and kept poking around the apartment. He fixed the couch and checked under the cushions. I fixed the dining room table and grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess on the floor.

We moved in silence until I stopped and looked up at Tripp, towering over me as I was on my knees. His hands balled into fists. His knuckles ripped up. Muscles rippling from his wrist up to where his arms pressed tight against his shirt.

“I’m not supposed to get involved,” he said. “I’m supposed to just protect you.”

“So what do you want? A medal? You want me to call your boss and tell him you’re putting in overtime?”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.”

“What are you going to do?”

I was challenging Tripp and I liked it. He inched closer to me. He put a hand to the table and leaned down a little.

“Look, darling, someone wants you dead.”

“They really tried this time,” I said. “Flipping over my used couch. I’m terrified.”

“Yeah, keep thinking that. That’s how people get killed.”

“Oh?” I slowly stood up. Standing, I wasn’t as tall as Tripp. But I was closer to him. Closer to that steel cut jaw. Closer to the scruff on his face. Closer to those scary brown eyes that were somehow still inviting and comforting. “How would I have gotten killed then? Tripped on something tipped over?”

Tripp shook his head. “If you opened your door and saw this, and I wasn’t here, what would you have done?”

I opened my mouth but stopped for a second. If I had been alone, I would have freaked out, sure. Who wouldn’t have? Would I have stayed in the house and cleaned it up so casually like I was with Tripp?

Probably not.

“Silence,” Tripp said. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He started to turn and I grabbed his arm. I pulled at him, bringing him back to me.

Tripp stood sideways. My fingers moved up and over the natural round feel of his bicep. A muscle built off throwing punches, defending himself, hurting other people.

Yet I still liked it. I still touched him.

“I would have ran,” I said. “Okay? If I was alone and I came in here and the place was trashed, I would have left. I would have grabbed my keys and took off.”

“Shit,” Tripp said.

He shook away from me and ran to the front door. A second later, he was gone. My fingertips were tingling, wishing they were still touching Tripp’s muscle.

I ran after him, outside and around the side of the converted garage.

He went right to my car and stopped.

“What is it?” I asked as I approached.

“Ten bucks you don’t lock your car.”

“I don’t have ten bucks,” I said. I grabbed for the door handle, knowing it wasn’t locked. What the hell did I care to lock the door? There was nothing in the car that was of value. The car itself was a piece of junk anyway.

Tripp grabbed my wrist and pulled me close to his body. “Don’t.”

“Why?”

“They trashed your place to get you into your car,” Tripp said. “Any idea why?”

I shook my head.

Tripp gritted his teeth. “Just stand back in case I get lit up. And if I do…” Tripp took out his cell and handed it to me. “Dial 1 and just say that I’m dead. I can’t promise anything good, but it might be better than that MC.”

“Tripp, what are you…”

He rushed around to the driver’s door. Slowly, he opened it, wincing. It was like he was waiting for the car to blow up or something.

Blow up.

The car’s going to blow up!

The car’s wired!

I gasped and stepped back.

Tripp was bold and brave, climbing across the front seat. Digging around, searching. He then popped the hood and moved out of the car. He went to the hood and opened it.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

I ran toward him. “Tripp. What is it?”

“I told you to stay away.”

“I don’t listen. Get used to it.”

“Look. Right here.” He pointed to a little box. “That right there. That’s wired up to your starter. You get in the car, turn the key, and…”

“Boom,” I whispered.

“Yeah, boom,” he said and laughed. “Christ, darling, doesn’t it scare you?”

“I’m numb to it all,” I said.

Tripp wiped a line of sweat from his forehead. He backed up and slowly shut the hood.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“I’ll make a call. I’ll get this diffused.”

“I thought you were a fighter,” I said. “How do you know about bombs and stuff?”

Tripp turned and touched my shoulder. “Darling, I didn’t survive this long just by fighting. Okay? I’ve seen things. I’ve done things. Just do yourself a favor and keep away. Arm’s length, okay? I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through. I’m sorry I pushed at your past. I don’t give a shit about it. Someone is out to kill you. My only job is to make sure that doesn’t happen.”