She took a breath. He wasn’t talking about Ridley. Ridley came every night to walk her home, but he stayed in the corner after he ordered his coffee, reading. He made certain she was safe walking home, but he never acted interested in her publicly. And since that one brief kiss at breakfast, he hadn’t made any other moves.

He did spar with her a lot. She knew she was improving. He showed her all kinds of self-defense moves. He was an exacting teacher and he didn’t like it if she messed up. He sometimes scowled at her, his golden eyes glittering with anger.

That will get you dead if you don’t do the move right. Pay attention to what you’re doing, Cat. If your head isn’t in the game, we can do this another day.

He said that a lot. She always paid more attention and tried harder. She kept to her routine, working out on her own, running before work, going to the shooting range as often as she had the money for. She slept a lot easier with the security system. Ridley had placed the monitor right by her bed so when she activated the system, she could see each individual area the cameras covered. She could zoom in and she could record.

Ridley always walked her home, and he never allowed her entry until he’d checked the place out first. She’d been a little uncomfortable with him going into her bedroom the first few times, but she’d gotten used to the way he was about protecting women. Clearly, it was just who he was. And she liked who he was.

Twice he gave her a hard time because she’d left her safe open and the cash in plain sight. Both times he’d been concerned someone had been there, but she’d just forgotten that when she closed the door she had to bang it with her fist to get the stupid thing to close all the way. She’d found the safe in a thrift store and it was old and tired. Still, it worked just fine for her.

“Cat, don’t go all silent on me,” David cautioned. “I’m just trying to keep Bernard from getting his heart ripped out when the masses rise up and rip the microphone out of his hands.”

“Bernard?” Catarina handed David another drink, this one a simple mocha latte, one of the easier drinks those in the crowd asked for. “You think I’m going to go on a date with Bernard? Our main poet? He’s supposed to be my mythical boyfriend?” She hissed it at David. “I don’t date. Not ever. Are you crazy? He doesn’t even notice me. My coffee yes, me no.”