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She walked down the hall toward her door. Blaze was behind her. Since they’d come in from the front entrance, her apartment was first. She reached into her jacket for her keys, then plowed to a stop in front of the tall wood door, her heart lodging in her throat.

Was the door open?

Blaze pushed her back against the wall, his expression serious. Her stomach dropped. She turned to look at her door again. She hadn’t been wrong. A slice of pale light filtered through the slim crack where the door stood ajar.

“Stay here,” Blaze murmured.

She nodded, though part of her wanted to wrap her fists in his shirt and beg him not to leave her alone. But it made sense for him to go inside and see if anyone was there.

If Simon was there.

Blaze drew a weapon from behind his back, shoved the door open and disappeared in a cloud of silence. Emma flattened herself against the wall. She couldn’t hear anything past the rush of blood in her ears. She strained for any sounds that would tell her what was happening, turning her head right and left, peering down the hall in both directions. If someone was there—if he was there—what would she do?

A few moments later, Blaze appeared in the entry. “It’s clear. Nobody inside.”

The gun was gone. He had his phone instead and he was busy tapping away on it.

Emma let out a slow breath. Her heartbeat didn’t calm, though. “Maybe I didn’t tug it closed well enough. It’s an old building.”

She’d pulled the door closed, held it tight, and locked it. She remembered that. Then she’d tested the knob. Nothing had happened. But maybe the wood swelled, or contracted, and the lock slipped. Anything was possible in an old building. She knew that from the house she’d grown up in.

“Do you really think that’s true?” he asked, his sky blue eyes searching hers as he slipped his phone in his pocket.

She shook her head. Her natural impulse tilted toward keeping her cards close to her chest, but for some reason she felt like she could admit the truth to Blaze.

“Here’s how I see it, Emma. If you remember closing and locking the door, there’s a slim chance you’re wrong and it popped open on its own. But considering what you’ve told me about that prickly feeling you got earlier, we’re not going to assume that’s the case.”

“Do you think someone was inside?”

“Maybe.” He stepped out and pulled the door closed, took her keys from her hand and locked it again. He did the same thing she’d done, tugging and pushing, and the door held. She thought he’d unlock it again, but he didn’t. He handed her the keys, put a gentle hand on her elbow, and guided her down the hallway toward his apartment.

She thought she should object when he unlocked the door and ushered her inside. She didn’t know him, not really, and he was a big man capable of violence.

She’d seen the violence, though it’d been in service to her, Britney, and Clarence.

You can trust him.

It came from deep within, but how could she believe it when she didn’t trust herself?

She thought of her father saying he felt like Blaze was a good man. John Sutton was one of the best judges of character she’d ever known. Growing up, she remembered times when he treated people who couldn’t pay him. He took baked goods, crafts, labor, and many other things she hadn’t understood.

He’d never been wrong about any of those people, even when he treated them first. They always showed up with payment.

Emma let out her breath and stood quietly as Blaze unlocked his door. He pushed it open and motioned her inside.

She crossed the threshold, not certain what to expect. The apartment wasn’t as bare as hers, but it was pretty bare. There was a couch and chair, an end table, and a round table with four chairs in the adjoining dining area. Of course there was a big TV on a console.

“Have a seat. Can I get you a water or a beer? Afraid I don’t have any wine.”

Emma shook her head. “I’m good. Thank you.”

She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked over to the couch and sat on the edge. Perched, really. She bounced her knees up and down and worked to hold back any tears. She told herself they were angry, frustrated tears—and they were—but they were also brought on by fear.

He didn’t sit. Instead, he lifted his phone and put it to his ear. “Yeah? Okay, thanks.” He dropped it on the table and raked a hand through his hair.

She couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his arm flexed and rolled.

“I had my friends check out the surrounding area. They didn’t see anyone suspicious.”

“He wouldn’t look suspicious,” Emma said. Simon had always been proud of his ability to blend and look inconspicuous. He’d bragged about it more than once. To scare her, she’d realized later.

He’d succeeded.

Blaze dragged a chair away from the dining table and turned it around, straddled it with the back to his front. Now why was that sexy?

“Can you tell me about him? Give me a picture? Knowing his name and description could help us find him.”

Emma blinked rapidly, then pulled her gaze away from his. “Why do you believe me? What if I’m a drama queen and all this—” She waved her hand around. “—is to get your attention.”

“Is it?”

She whipped her gaze back to him. He’d lifted one eyebrow in question. Heat flooded her. “No, it’s not.”

“Okay then. You gonna tell me what I need to know, or you plan to keep worrying about this guy?”