Except my apartment building which was where Knight was looking. It was old. No attention had been put into what it would look like when it was built. No attention was put into how it was now maintained. And it was a blight on the neighborhood. The good thing was, rent was low and it came with a parking spot. The bad thing was, the neighbors hated it, hated the landlord and sometimes, by association, hated the tenants which included me.

Now, weirdly, Knight was staring at it, again his face giving nothing away but his contemplation of it was deep.

“Knight,” I called softly, his head jerked very slightly and his eyes tipped down to me. “You don’t have to walk me to my building. I’m good. Thank you for bringing me home.”

He didn’t answer and again totally ignored me as, hand still curled around my elbow, he moved us toward my building.

“Really,” I went on as we were walking, “this is a good neighborhood.”

It was like I didn’t speak. Eyes to my apartment building, he kept moving, his fingers firm around my flesh.

I sighed and gave up. It wasn’t that far and soon this would be over.

We walked up the steps to the door and Knight stopped us.

I looked up at him to thank him again but he spoke before me.

“Punch in the code, babe.”

I stared up at him and asked, “The code?”

He jerked his head to the keypad by the door.

I looked at it, knowing it didn’t work because it hadn’t for six months. Then I lifted a hand and pushed open the unlocked door. As I did this, I could swear I heard the quiet hiss of an indrawn, pissed off breath but when my head quickly turned to him at the sound he simply drew us through.

Once inside, he stopped us, looked down at me and declared, “Babe, please tell me you don’t live on the first floor.”

This was a strange thing to say and I looked into the hall at the doors of the apartments on the first floor.

Then I looked up at him and replied, “No, top floor.”

“Thank Christ,” he muttered and moved us, eyeing the first staircase that had a rope across it with a sloppily hand-printed notice tacked to it that said, “Not in use.” Then Knight was moving us to the elevators but his step faltered when he saw the sloppily hand-printed sign on it that said, “Out of Order.” I definitely heard his sigh when he moved us to the other set of stairs and up them.

I didn’t know what to make of this but it kind of irritated me. I mean, he’d made it clear he knew where I was coming from and that wasn’t the land of sunken living rooms and Aston Martins. My building might be crap and the rent relatively cheap but it was also in a relatively safe neighborhood so the rent wasn’t that cheap and thus the tenants were pretty awesome. For instance, we were walking up the stairs, there were no loud parties (unlike at his building) and all was quiet and peaceful.

We got to the third floor and he guided me down the hall even though it was me who was leading us to my door. I chanced a glance up at him and noted his head was tipped back. Mine did too and I saw that down the corridor, three of the five overhead lights were out. The hall was thus understandably murky. I’d called about this situation four times (as I had about the elevator, security system and stairs) but nothing had been done. So I stopped calling and decided to change the light bulbs myself, eventually, when I had a free second.

My body swayed toward my door and Knight took us there and halted us. I dug in my purse, coming out with my keys and my lips parted when his fingers closed around them. He slid them out of my hand and then, like he had a sixth sense, he picked the right one, inserted it, opened the door, swung inside and hit the light switch so my overhead light went on.

Then he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me in, closed the door but positioned me at the side of it.

Then, again weirdly, he looked me in the eye and ordered, “Do not move.”

I blinked.

He moved.

Then I stared as he walked through my one-bedroom apartment into the kitchen that was open like his and delineated by a short breakfast bar. He switched on the light and looked around even though he could see everything (nearly) from the living room. Leaving the light on, he moved out, opened the door to the bathroom, turned the light on, swung his torso in and looked inside.

What on earth was he doing?

Again, light left on, he swung out and moved to my bedroom.

My body jolted and I called, “Um… Knight?” but he didn’t hesitate, the light went on and he disappeared behind the door.

Seriously, what on earth?

“Knight?” I called, taking two steps into my apartment but he reappeared and prowled with his long-legged strides to me, face still impassive but eyes on me.

He stopped in front of me and held my keys out to me.

“You’re good,” he declared as I took them. “Nice to meet you, Anya.”

Uh… what?

Then his eyes went to the door, they narrowed on it strangely like the sight of my door pissed him off in a not at all vague way, he looked back at me and his eyes unnarrowed but the pissed off look didn’t go away.

Then he muttered, “Jesus.”

I stared at him, confused. Or, I should say, profoundly confused.

Before I could ask, though I was uncertain I would, he went out the door, stopped in it, turned back, his eyes leveled on me and he commanded, “Lock this after me, babe. Pointless but it’s somethin’.”

Then he was gone.

Chapter Two

We Slid over the Edge, Together, Holding Tight, into Nothing

I was sitting on the wraparound balcony. The cushions on the wrought iron furniture were comfy. The view of the Front Range was awesome. The sun was warm. I had a piece of toast in my hand and was about to take a bite when I stopped and twisted my neck to look over my shoulder.

Knight was walking to me, dark gray, drawstring pajama bottoms on, long-ish hair sexy messy from sleep, chest with its enticing array of dark hair bared, eyes on me.

I felt my lips curve.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

He walked to me, his hand gathering my hair then twisting it around, he tugged my head back. It wasn’t gentle, it was rough, a hint of pain spiking through my scalp and shooting pleasure straight between my legs. So much, I felt my lips part as I watched his strikingly handsome face coming toward me.

I closed my eyes slowly and waited impatiently for his lips to hit mine.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and I was in Mrs. Herndon’s room. Second grade. I was sitting at my desk but I was an adult so the desk didn’t fit me. There was a knock at the door, all the kids’ eyes went to it and I felt my heart clutch, my stomach drop.