She frowned.

For now?

"Being called Oliver reminds me of when I was in the system," he went on, apparently oblivious that his words had made a chunk of ice drop into the pit of her stomach. "It's my legal name, and n.o.body really gave a s.h.i.t that I hated it. They just read it on a doc.u.ment, put it together with my inmate number, and that was it. This guy, though, is using it as if it's the name I go by. That means he doesn't know me in person. And he certainly doesn't know you. I'll bet he didn't even know that was your car until you started it earlier tonight, and that's when he decided to put the note on it. And that means he's watching you, following you wherever you go."

Grimly she did her best to push away the fear that bloomed at this possibility. "Since he knows your legal name, I would think he poses more of a threat to you than to me."

"The one way he could hurt me, hurt me in ways that can't ever be fixed, is through you, Angel. Don't you get that? This guy sure as f.u.c.k does."

That admission, despite being delivered in a tone filled with bottled-up rage, moved through her like a sweet miracle. "Twist-"

"You should be p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l at me for letting this s.h.i.thead into your life."

Good grief. "Well, I'm not. What I am is exhausted. More than anything, what I want right now is to go to bed."

For a moment he looked like he had every intention of arguing some more. Then with an impatient gesture he waved a hand toward the hall. "Bedroom's that way, past the studio. Feel free to sleep on whichever side you want."

Her skin iced over. "Let me rephrase. I want to go to bed with you."

"I let a threat into my world once before, you know," he said unexpectedly, making her blink in confusion as he regarded her with eyes so terrible they looked almost unrecognizable. "I won't be responsible for that kind of agony again, Angel. I won't. I swear I'll find a way to keep you safe."

"I believe you." Alarm mingled with curiosity, and it burned through her to know what past threat he was talking about. But she wouldn't ask, not now. His mood was too dangerous to deal with questions. "Right now, you can keep me safe in bed. And as for tomorrow..."

"What about tomorrow?"

"We let it take care of itself." Determinedly she smiled and pulled him toward the hall, refusing to let him see that her pen pal had unnerved her. Added to that was the looming dinner with his family, an event that would make any girl nervous, so her plate was full. The last thing she needed now was her man trying to carry more than his fair share of the weight of the world on his shoulders. If she could distract him from doing that, even if only for a few hours, then that was exactly what she would do.

Chapter Twenty.

"That should just about do it." With an air of finality, Angel ran clear packing tape from its dispenser over the top of the box she'd packed full of what looked like ordinary desk junk to Twist's way of thinking. The dusty, high curtains that belonged somewhere in the last century had also been pulled down and thrown out, and sunlight poured into the small wood paneled room. Around them were neatly stacked boxes marked "Office," a rolled up rug that she'd taped tightly shut, a dinosaur-aged desktop and a collection of serious looking office furniture that she'd gone to the trouble of dusting.

That was Angel. If he ever had to move, she would be his number-one choice to call on for going above and beyond the call of duty.

Then again, Angel would be his choice for one h.e.l.l of a lot.

Right now, that was his biggest problem.

Pulling himself out of his darkening thoughts, he glanced at his watch and gave a faint whistle. "I don't believe it."

She looked up from counting boxes and typing something down in her phone. "What?"

"It really did only take you a couple hours to finish packing things up. Just like you said."

"I even have a couple minutes to spare." Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she looked around the hollow-feeling room with a smile of satisfaction. "Just think, tomorrow the movers will be here in the morning, my parents will be back tomorrow around noon, and I will be officially done with this place."

"Don't forget you've got the handyman coming in at nine to switch out the pantry doorframe," he added, closing the distance between them. "I wish I could be here with you when you let all these strangers into the house, but I've got my first concierge appointment tomorrow at nine as well. Are Joey and Novak available to be with you to play bodyguard?"

She scrunched her nose. "No, it's playoff season. They're flying to New York in the morning."

"Then I'll have either my dad or Nick here to keep you company while you've got people going in and out of the house."

"I know you're worried, but that's not necessary-"

"Angel, even if that letter-writing a.s.shole wasn't jerking us around, I'd still insist on someone being here for you to keep you safe while strange men come in and out of this place," he said, not in the mood to argue about it. "I don't mind telling you that I'm pretty G.o.dd.a.m.n p.i.s.sed that your parents don't seem to have a clue that they've set you up for potential trouble by making you deal with all this in their stead. It's like they think the whole f.u.c.king world is as safe as Candy Land."

She grimaced. "They kind of... don't live in the real world the way the rest of us do. And it doesn't help that my mom's always been a bit of a sweet little flake."

"Sweet little flake or not, if her thoughtlessness ever puts you in danger, she forfeits the right to be anywhere near you."

She gave him a smile br.i.m.m.i.n.g with self-a.s.surance. "With Nick or your dad here, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Even with someone here with you, I need you to be smart, okay? Before you let anyone in, I need you to ask who they are, who hired them, and what specific jobs they've been hired to do," he went on while his guts churned themselves up into acid-filled knots. Logically he knew he was probably overreacting; the notes had never threatened Angel in any way, but it didn't matter. What mattered was keeping a tight lid on the situation so it never had the opportunity to boil out of control. "I also want you to have your phone with you at all times."

"I always do."

"In your hand, ready to dial for help if you need it," he went on, then blew out a short breath when she just looked at him. "I should have told Payne I couldn't do that concierge gig for this Monday. I'm the one who should be with you."

"I can handle this," she a.s.sured him, in that moment looking so small and ethereal it was all he could do to not lock her in the nearest bas.e.m.e.nt for safekeeping. In her baggy, rolled-up denim overalls, a zombified My Pretty Pony T-shirt and neon pink Converse high-tops, she didn't look like she could handle a hard-selling Girl Scout looking to unload her allotment of cookies.

But if he told her that, he was sure she would knock his block off.

"So, the concierge service starts tomorrow." A smile curled her mouth as she looked up at him. "I can't believe that was such a big deal to me a couple of weeks ago. Are you looking forward to your first in-home tattooing session?"

"Considering I'd rather be here with you, not really." Then he sucked in a calming breath and tried to get his d.a.m.n one-track mind onto another rail. "When I finish up my in-home tat session, I'll swing by here to take you to work. Luckily my concierge appointment doesn't live too far from where we are now." It was definitely lucky, he reminded himself. If she needed help, he was no more than a few minutes away.

What he tried not to think about was how much damage one human being could do to another in just a few minutes.

Unbidden in his mind, memories cascaded in-the harsh glare of the emergency room's fluorescent lighting, the stringent scent of disinfectant mixed with the coppery tang of blood, his mother's sobs and his father's broken voice, and the relentlessly calm questioning of the police.

And Essie. Her beautiful face swollen and unrecognizable. Teeth smashed to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp, raw and ragged st.i.tches holding her scalp in place, her nose a b.l.o.o.d.y, misshapen mess. And the terrifying rasp she made as she spoke, putting a name to the monster responsible.

The world as he'd known it had ended then-right there as he stood in the ER supporting his mother so she wouldn't fall. Innocence was lost for his entire family, but even more so for Essie.

And himself.

That was the moment when he'd found out he was responsible. He was the one who had let the monster in. If he'd brought a rabid tiger into their midst and set it loose, he couldn't have done more damage to his family. Or to Essie.

"When my sister was born," he said into the quiet, seeing not Angel but the first time he had seen his baby sister, "I remember how my dad sat Nick and me down in his big La-Z-Boy recliner and placed her in our laps. She was so tiny she didn't even seem real," he added with a half-laugh. "She looked like this perfect little doll wrapped up in a pink blanket. That was when my dad told us that we were very lucky, because we were now big brothers, and big brothers had been trusted through birth order with the privilege of being the protectors of a little sister. Nick and I had been given this honor. I'll never forget the pride I felt that day." Or the depth of despair he'd plunged into when he realized he'd let his little sister down in the worst possible way.

He'd brought a monster right to her. G.o.d, right the f.u.c.k to her. After all these years, he could still barely tolerate that thought. And he sure as h.e.l.l couldn't take it if fate decided to punish him more by making history repeat itself. Maybe he deserved that punishment, but Angel didn't. Like Essie, she was an innocent.

"Will I be meeting Essie at your family's Sunday dinner?"

The gentle sound of Angel's voice dragged him out of the darkness of his thoughts, and he shook his head. "Essie moved down to Texas eight years ago, where our mom has family. Houston suits her better than Humboldt Park, which is a much more close-knit community where everyone knows everybody else's business."

"That's Chicago for you-the biggest collection of small towns this side of New York. There are no real secrets."

"True that," he agreed absently, while the ramifications of what they were saying set in. "That being the case, it'd probably be best if you didn't go to dinner with my family."

Her eyes went wide with shock and a flash of something he didn't immediately pick up on. "What?"

"That's a huge-a.s.s statement, taking a woman to a family dinner," he went on, needing for her to understand that they were now playing with some seriously dangerous fire and he didn't want her to get burned. "It's like announcing to the world that you mean something to me, especially since I've never brought a woman to Sunday dinner in my life. I'm thinking that isn't the kind of statement I want to make right now. Not while this crazy pen pal of yours is on the loose."

Her eyes were open windows to a chaos of emotion-shock, confusion, anger, worry. And hurt. A world of hurt. Too late, he remembered her tendency to take things personally, and his hands on her shoulders tightened.

"After this letter-writing d.i.c.k is caught and we've put all this in the rearview mirror, we'll make this happen, yeah? I just think we should play it safe for now and not make a big scene about what's going on between us."

"A big scene?"

"We know he's watching you. So it'd be smart to make it appear to that a.s.shole that we're not that involved. We should play it cool for now, but I promise after we find out who he is and put him in his place, there will be more Sunday dinners than you can shake a stick at. You got my word on that."

"I get it. I'm good." She dropped her gaze in tandem with her hands dropping from around his waist, and she took a step back from him. "You'll explain my absence to your mother, won't you? I know she's expecting me, and I wouldn't want her to think I'm rude by not showing up."

"Don't worry about it." Some deep-seated instinct screamed at him to bring her back into his arms, to not let that chasm grow between them, and hold onto her until she believed this wasn't personal. But cold, hard logic and the memory of how horribly he'd let his sister down kept him statue-still.

For now, it was better this way.

It was shocking how contrary a human being could be, Angel decided as she curled up on one end of the couch in her living room and surfed through the channels. The sun's dying rays filtered in through the back patio's sliding gla.s.s door, and there was a bag of corn chips leaning against her hip that she was calling dinner. Then, when that made her think of what Twist's reaction would be to that, she lost her appet.i.te and tossed the bag onto the coffee table.

Twist.

He'd been so gung-ho on the idea of having her come to Sunday family dinner with him, while she'd worked herself into a nervous tizzy over the very idea. It didn't help that Joey and Novak had also made a mountain out of that dinner molehill, so that ultimately she'd been on the verge of dreading it.

Then, like that, Twist threw the boat into full reverse, and suddenly the one and only place she wanted to be was right beside him at the supper table, trying to impress the c.r.a.p out of his parents.

Contrary to the point of insanity. That was who she was now.

No. That wasn't true. What she had become was deeply devoted to being a part of Twist's life. Once she'd lowered her defenses enough to admit she'd fallen in love with him, everything inside her had swan-dived headfirst into making that emotional connection into a total, no-holds-barred commitment. He drove her crazy half the time with his control-freak ways, but he was funny and sweet and thought only of her wellbeing before anything else. She wasn't a fan of being taken care of, because from the age of seventeen she had thrived while taking care of herself. But it felt good, more than good, to know he was there to lean on if she needed a breather, and together they would get through anything the world tossed their way.

But it wasn't working out that way.

I just know a thing like love only works right when it's balanced between two people who're giving it their all, in equal amounts. Otherwise the balance is off and everything falls to s.h.i.t.

Twist's words came back to her as clearly as if he were right there in the room with her. She loved him absolutely, and she was willing to give him her all. But with this one little hiccup rocking their boat, he seemed like he was looking for any excuse to bail. She was no expert when it came to relationships. But she was pretty sure that bailing at the first sign of trouble wasn't how to succeed in one.

Though for all she knew, this was just an aberration with him. He seemed to think it was necessary to uninvite her to dinner in order to keep her safe, and that was very much like the overprotective Twist she knew so well. The thing was, she just didn't get how he believed that going their separate ways tonight was safer for her. Wasn't she safer when she was with him?

But if this was what he needed to do while her pen pal was apparently watching over her, then she'd go along with it.

She just hoped she wasn't being as blind as her mother had been when her father had begun readying himself to leave the family that he said was smothering him. As far as Angel was concerned, there was nothing worse than being a cliched, willfully blind woman desperately clinging to a man who didn't want to be there anymore.

"...candlelight vigil for fourteen-year-old Daphne Nester, whose body was found in Garfield Park earlier this week. According to sources, the Westinghouse High School freshman was raped and beaten to death with a rock, then partially hidden in the bushes. Police have made an arrest in this incident, but have yet to release a name of the suspect. In lieu of flowers, the Nester family is asking for donations to cover the cost of burying their only daughter."

Okay, Angel thought, biting her lip to try and quell the sudden stinging in her eyes, while a wave of shame hit her hard. She was wrong. There were worse things in life than being stupid about a man. Much, much worse.

The sudden ringing of her cell phone lying on the sofa's armrest had her flipping it over to read the screen. Then her breath backed up when she saw Twist's name before she brought it up to her ear. "Hey."

"Angel, honey, it's Lynette," came the very recognizable female voice of Twist's mother. "I stole my son's phone and dashed into the bathroom to give you a quick call. Why aren't you here? Did you two have a fight?"

Her jaw dropped. Then the thought of what Lynette Santiago might be like as a mother-in-law flashed briefly through her mind before she could stuff it in a box and throw it into a bottomless pit. "Uh, didn't Twist tell you?" It was weak, as far as responses went, but Lynette had caught her unprepared.

"He said you have a stalker because of him, and he's afraid of the two of you being seen together," came the huffy reply. "Which sounds like a load of poppyc.o.c.k to me. I mean, how does it make sense to leave you all alone when you could be here, safe and surrounded by people?"

Her thoughts exactly. "Twist actually thought I would be with my neighbors while he was at dinner."

"And are you?"

"Nope. Novak had an early playoff game this evening, so I'm flying solo." And calling a bag of corn chips dinner, because that's how I roll.

"See? I knew it was poppyc.o.c.k. You had a fight, didn't you? What'd he do?"

Angel had to laugh at Lynette's a.s.sumption. She might be Twist's mother, but there was no shaking the understanding of women when it came to dealing with men. "I swear, we didn't have a fight. It's true that I've picked up what I'm calling a pen pal who may or may not have stalker-like tendencies. But my anonymous letter writer seems to be more interested in warning me off of Twist than hurting me."

"What?"

Angel quickly filled in the apparent holes of what Twist had told his mother, trying to downplay it as no big deal, but by the time she was done there was a long silence that greeted her. "Lynette? Are you still there?"

"Honey." Though it could have been a trick of the cell signal, it seemed to Angel's ears that the other woman's voice had aged during their talk. "I'm so sorry. And how awful that this is happening to the first woman he's dared to show any real interest in. I've been so worried that my boy had lost all hope of meeting someone special and settling down, since he felt his past shadowed his every step. He even told me once that he'd never want to be the kind of man that a woman would be ashamed of having in her life, can you imagine? Then he introduced us to you, his Angel that we've heard so much about, and I was giddy with happiness, you have no idea. And now this. G.o.d, I could cry."

c.r.a.p. No wonder Twist hadn't told his mom everything. "Lynette-"

"You have to listen to me," she said urgently. "There are reasons why Oliver acts the way he does."

"I'm sure there are." She just had a lurking fear the reason he'd uninvited her was his way of sc.r.a.ping her off before they got too deep into the "meet the family" quagmire.

"My son was born with an oversized need to protect," Lynette went on, as if sensing Angel was nowhere near convinced. "Has he told you about his sister Essie?"

Angel paused, unsure of what the other woman was referring to. "Um..."

"He hasn't," the other woman decided flatly. "That boy. All right, this next question is a little tricky, because if you don't know... Angel, has my son told you that he has a, uh... well, that he has a record?"

"Yes, and he told me what it was for-a.s.sault with intent." Finally she could give an answer that had some merit to it. "He told me he was guilty of the crime, and that he'd confessed to it freely to the judge."

"But did he tell you why he did it?"

Again she hesitated. "The time wasn't right for him to tell, or for me to ask."

Lynette sighed. "Eight years ago, Oliver brought a friend home from work-back then he had a part-time job at my uncle's construction company while going to school to get a degree in graphic design. This friend of his quickly became a regular fixture at our house, and he certainly seemed nice enough. There was never any indication that there was something evil lurking beneath his friendly smile."

"Evil?" Angel repeated, while a sudden chill scuttled down her spine.

"I don't use that word lightly," came the grim response. "I promise you, there was no hint of just how awful this boy was. He ate with us, stayed with us, played touch football in the backyard with us. We all trusted him, and that turned out to be the biggest mistake that ever hit our family."