“I would’ve had them bring you your own stuff, but the feds are crawling all over your apartment complex right now. It wasn’t worth taking the chance,” he explains, his mention of the federal agents searching for me grounding me from my temporary high.

“Yeah.” I nod, feeling my face fall. “Thanks again. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Sure I did. If we’re gonna be here a while, you’ll have to wash that shirt eventually, and unless you want to wear that uncomfortable looking dress you had on at work last Friday, you needed some clothes.”

Wrinkling my nose, I cock my head to the side, puzzled. “My dress from work last Friday?”

He closes the cabinet door and moves toward me. “Yes. The one you had on when you were delivered to me.”

“No, I know what dress,” I clarify. “It’s just the last Friday part that threw me off. What day is it today?”

“It’s Wednesday evening,” he pauses to sneak a peek at his phone, “seven-twenty-three.”

Wow. It feels like I’ve been with Raze much longer than five days. I hate that I’m so unaware of what’s going on that I’ve lost track of the days and time. “Right. Wednesday night.”

Again, with his exemplary perceptiveness, he realizes I need a few minutes alone to come to terms with numerous things. “In the other box, there should be books, magazines, a DVD player, and a bunch of American movies I’ve always wanted to see to keep us from going absolutely stir-crazy in here. Go through it, and anything you want to read or watch, help yourself. I’m going to take a shower and change out of these clothes. I’ll put the toiletries up while I’m in there.”

Not waiting for me to respond, he walks past me, careful not to allow our shoulders to brush against each other’s. But just before the bathroom door closes, I speak out. “Raze.”

He shifts his attention to me. “Yes, girl?”

When I say his name, I have no idea what I am going to say to him. I just can’t let us separate with this weird tension between us.

“What does kotyonok mean?” The words tumble mindlessly from my lips.

A warm chuckle rumbles deep in his chest as he flashes me a boyish grin. “It means kitten,” he replies, shutting the door before I have a chance to respond.

“Wow, this is delicious,” Raze manages in between bites of the homemade cheeseburgers I made while he was in the shower.

Once I realized I didn’t have anywhere to store my new clothes since I was actually living in the living room, I slipped on a pair of sweatpants then left the rest in the box and scooted it to the corner, back behind the couch, where it’d be out of the way. Then, while Raze was still in the shower, I began preparing dinner for the two of us. My way of saying thanks again for everything. Protecting me. Making sure I had what I needed in this shitty situation. Being a decent human being.

“Bacon and ranch,” I divulge my mom’s super-secret recipe for the best cheeseburgers ever.

He eyes his half-eaten burger skeptically and shakes his head. “What? Where? I don’t see any bacon or ranch.”

“It’s mixed inside the meat. I usually fry the bacon fresh and use a packet of the powdered Ranch dip, but I made do with what we had—bottled Ranch dressing and jarred bacon bits. It still tastes pretty damn good.” I smirk as I bite into the greasy, but delicious dinner.

“Careful,” he warns with a teasing tone in his voice. “You may have just won yourself cooking duties while we’re here.”

Rolling my eyes, I toss my paper towel at him. “Uh-uh. I’ve had your omelets. No way I’m letting you off the hook on those. You keep breakfast, and I’ll do dinner. Whoever doesn’t cook is in charge of cleanup.”

“You’re quite the little negotiator. Where did you learn that?” he asks as he begins to work on cheeseburger number two. So much for leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

“My brother, Brandon. We were always swapping out chores and whatnot, covering for each other when we got older,” I answer, surprising myself with my candidness. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

He wipes a dribble of grease from his chin with a napkin as he nods. “Like you, I have a younger brother, Ivan. He and I grew up very close, only a year apart in age.”

“When did you move to the U.S.? Is all your family here?” Suddenly, I have an abundance of questions for Raze as I realize I know very little about this man who has vowed to keep me safe, even if it means risking his life. That fact still freaks me out a bit, so I choose not to dwell on it.

For a second, a glimpse of sadness eclipses his expression, but he hastily pushes it aside with a forced smile. “I’ve been here a little over fifteen years, since I was seventeen. My parents are in L.A., but my brother is in Houston, running the family business with one of our cousins out of the port there.”

“My mom and brother are dead.” I don’t know why I blurt that out, but for some reason, I feel infinitely better when I do.

“Yes, I know.” Stretching his arm across the small dinette table we’re using for the first time, he rests his hand on top of mine and lightly rubs his thumb back and forth. “You feel guilty. Think they’re gone because of you.”

I know he’s read up on me. Shit, he probably knows more about me than I do. And I like how he doesn’t ask me if I feel guilty, but acknowledges it for what it is. A fact that can’t ever be changed. Only someone who feels the same way could understand.

“Vincent didn’t try to hide his handiwork from me.” I grimace, trying my best not to think about the gory scene found at my mother’s house the day after I shot Ish.

He purposely chews slowly, giving me time to settle my thoughts. “That alone doesn’t make you want to kill him? ‘Cause I know if you hadn’t taken care of Ish when you did, I was going to have my way with him pretty soon thereafter. You did the bastard a fucking favor. Gave him a painless death.”

“Does that make you resent me? That I took that away from you?”

With his hand still on mine, he turns it over and brings my palm to his mouth, kissing it softly. “Not at all, kotyonok. I’m glad he’s dead, but now I want the man truly responsible to pay. I don’t care if it’s you or if it’s me who does it; either way, he owes us both more than his life can ever pay for.”

The strangest feeling washes over me as Raze and I sit together after eating dinner, discussing which of us is going to murder someone, his mouth pressed against my hand. It isn’t sexual, though I can’t deny there’s something innately attractive about his rough and tough exterior. But it’s something. Some kind of connection I’ve never experienced before with another person. I know it sounds crazy, but I almost feel like he’s my guardian angel.

I knew from the moment I was released into the Witness Protection Program that eventually someone would figure out who I was, and my fake world would come tumbling down around me. I wasn’t wrong, but somehow, despite the insanity in all of this, I ended up with Raze, a gentle giant who probably hates the people I hate just as much as I do. Our common enemy brought us together, but now something else is making us . . . friends?

Unfortunately, I don’t have long to contemplate that scary word, because the high-pitched shrill of Raze’s cell phone shatters the silence. He jumps up and answers it, disappearing into the bedroom to hold the conversation. Since we’re both finished eating, I take the time to wash our plates and clean the crumbs off the table.

A few minutes pass before he reappears in the kitchen, and immediately, based on the concern in his gaze, I know something is wrong. “What? What is it?”

Releasing a loud sigh, he scrubs his hands up and down over his face before dropping them to his hips. “Madden. He went to Chicago to find Vincent and ended up getting roughed up by some of his boys before the FBI intervened. The shit’s hit the fan. Vincent’s left the country, hiding out somewhere in Italy, because the feds have shut down all of his businesses, looking for you, and your boyfriend’s unconscious, laid up in a hospital.”