Chapter 7

I stood staring at the closed and locked door in front of me. Hunter had made me promise to let him back inside when he came back. And I had given him my word. He was Simon’s father, I shouldn’t trust him. But I did. At first I had thought it was the attraction I felt for him, the ridiculously strong attraction that practically had me drooling. But when he managed to calm me down and break my spiral down into a full-blown panic attack, it had been clear it wasn’t just attraction. Somehow my body and my instincts told me to trust him. Even though my brain and conscious thoughts did their best to tell the rest of me he was a man and as such he was dangerous. The way he had enveloped me as he helped rinse my hand had made me feel protected. It was just a mess. There was a knock on the door and I jumped a foot in the air. I reached out to unlock it, but reminded myself I needed to make sure it was Hunter on the other side. It was and I let out the breath I had been holding and unlocked the door.

“Thank you for letting me back inside,” he said with a smile that made my knees go wobbly. I just nodded. He had a big toolbox with him, something that looked to belong to a construction worker. Why did it make him look even sexier? Him in his perfectly tailored suit, lugging around a toolbox shouldn’t have made me drool, but it did. I swallowed hard as he put the toolbox down, opened it and took out a taser.

“What’s that?” I asked, knowing full well what it was.

“This is your new best friend. I need you to have a way to keep safe. I would have given you a gun if I wasn't half convinced that you would do more harm to yourself than anyone else if you tried to use it. And you don’t need trouble from the law,” he said. Maybe I should be offended by his comment, but he wasn’t wrong. When I got nervous I got clumsy. And clumsy me did not need a gun in my hands.

“Sounds reasonable,” I told him.

“This is a little stronger than what is available on the open market. So I need you to be careful. It’s not a gun, but it can still do some damage,” he instructed me and then showed me how to switch the safety off and fire it. It made a crackling sound and he looked at me when I jumped at the sound.

“Sorry, caught me by surprise,” I said. He put the safety back on and handed it to me.

“Try it.” It was a lot heavier than I had expected, but I followed his instructions and when it crackled in my hand I barely flinched.

“Always point it away from you,” he reminded me with a smile. I nodded. “I have this for you as well,” he said, holding up something in solid metal.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a safety bar. Works like a safety chain but it’s a lot harder to cut. It limits how much you can open the door, but it will still give you a crack if you need to,” he said.

“I can’t accept that, it’s too much,” I told him.

“It really isn’t. It’s too little. I would have liked to set you up with a complete alarm system including cameras. But I don't have that sort of equipment with me. This will have to do for now. I would have said that it will make your door impregnable. But the truth is, your door is of a shitty quality. I will put this in for you and it will do its job. But if someone really wants to get inside, the door will break before the safety bar does. It will give you time to get away from the door and get out through a window or something,” he said.

“A window?” I asked.

“Yes. Listen, sweetness. If they start to force themselves inside, you do not hide or lock yourself in the bathroom or some dumb shit like that. You run to a room where you have a window you can climb out through and you get out. If there is a door you can lock between you and them to buy yourself a little more time, then that’s good. But don’t isolate yourself. Okay?” He had called me sweetness again. Why did I find it so endearing? Right, I needed to focus on what he was telling me. Flee, don’t hide, don’t panic, get away.

“I can do that,” I told him. He smiled again.

“I know you can. Now go and sit down for a moment, it won’t take me long to install this thing.” I did as he told me and sat down on the couch. I still had the taser in my hand. I looked at it and wondered if it really was as powerful as Hunter had told me. It seemed stupid to test it on myself. I took one of the decorative pillows on the couch and put it down beside me. I took the taser and put it against the pillow and pulled the trigger. The sound was muffled, but instead I smelled burning. I immediately stopped tasing it and pulled the taser away. There was a large scorch mark on the pillow, which was smoking. Shit. Hunter appeared beside me.

“Why do I smell smoke?” he asked. Then he saw the pillow and the taser in my hand. I felt myself blush. “Well, at least I didn’t give you a gun,” he said, a smile played on his lips as he picked up the pillow.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No, it’s okay. Now I know you can use it,” he told me with a chuckle as he walked to the kitchen. I followed him and watched him put the pillow in the sink and turn the tap on to drown it. “Sorry about your pillow,” he said.

“It’s okay, it came with the couch,” I told him. He looked at me and then he burst out laughing. It wasn’t a polite laughter. No this was a full out belly jiggling laughter. It was deep, like his voice, and clear. I couldn’t help but to join him and started laughing as well. It was a nice feeling getting to laugh in the middle of everything. As his laughter trickled down to a soft chuckle I noticed how bright his honey-coloured eyes had become, there were small wrinkles at the corner of them. It didn’t make him look old, it was just cute. I also noticed he had taken his jacket of and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His well-toned forearms were covered in tattoos. Why did I find it so hot? I had never been attracted to the bad-boy type of men before. But everything about Hunter had my body humming.

“Here,” he said, holding out a business card. “It has both my work and private phone. I want you to call me any time of day, or night, if something seems off or if you feel unsafe.”

“Thank you, but I can’t just disturb you like that,” I objected.

“You can and you will. I mostly spend my time at work and now you are my client, that means no time is off limits for you. And I will insist on you taking your phone out and sending me a message so I get your number. I will get things moving and I need a way to keep you informed,” he said. Right. I was his client, his son's ex-wife who needed help. I needed to keep that in mind before my sex-starved brain started to believe some fairy tale in which he would swoop in and be my knight in shining armour. I was old enough to know that wasn’t reality.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the card and getting my phone. I sent him a short text and he took out his phone and added me to his contacts. He nodded as he did it and when he put his phone away, he paused.

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to go somewhere else? I can put you up in a hotel if you would prefer it?” he offered. He might see me as his client, but he was sweet nonetheless.

“I appreciate the offer. But I feel safe here. At least now that I got the new door thing and this,” I said, wiggling the taser.

“Be careful with that, one cushion set on fire is probably a good daily quota,” he teased.

“I did not set it on fire. It just smoked a little,” I objected.

“I stand corrected.” There was another pause. “Will you be okay if I leave you here?” he asked.

“I will. I’m in much better shape than when you arrived. Thank you for that.” He waved his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. He walked out in the hallway and I followed and watched as he gathered his things, flung his jacket over his arm and grabbed his toolbox and turned to face me.

“When I leave, try using the safety bar, I’ll wait outside so you don’t have any issues with it. Make sure it’s always on when you are home,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed. I wanted to find something that would make him stay. I felt safe with him around. But he was a stranger and I couldn’t ask him to spend more time on me than he already had. Again he paused, as if he was thinking the same thing as I did. But then he smiled and nodded. When he walked out, I closed the door and pulled the safety bar in place. I then cracked the door open. Hunter had been correct, the crack was smaller than with the chain, but it felt safer. “No issues,” I told Hunter, who was looking at me through the small crack.

“Close the door and take it off so I know it works,” he told me. I nodded and closed the door, flipped the bar open and then opened the door. “No problem?” he asked.

“No, it works like a charm,” I told him. He nodded.

“Lock the door and stay safe. Contact me if there is anything, no matter how small or insignificant it seems,” he told me.

“I promise.”

“Have a good evening, Hana.”

“You too, Hunter. Thank you for everything.”

“Any time.” He waited and I got the clue. I shut the door and locked all the locks and put the bar and the chain in place, better safe than sorry. Then I watched through the peephole as Hunter turned around and walked away. I lifted my hand to put my palm on my forehead, only to almost knock myself out with the taser. I had forgotten I was still holding it. Rubbing my forehead with my other hand, I trotted into the kitchen and put the taser on the kitchen counter as I checked on my drowned pillow. It was beyond rescue and I giggled as I put it into a garbage bag and tied it. I made a round through the apartment, checking my windows and closing the curtains. I hated feeling paranoid, but I did. I ended up taking a shower and then crawling into bed. I had some hard things to face tomorrow. But I could hide from it for tonight. My phone buzzed and I expected it to be Wictor checking to see if I had made up my mind. Instead it was a text from Hunter.

H: Still ok?

Me: Yes, I decided to go to bed.

H: And the taser?

Me: On my bedside table.

H: Good girl. Sweet dreams.

Me: Thank you. Sleep tight.