“I am home,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“I live here too. In Center Cluster, actually, next to the Alpha’s building.”
Of course he did. “Fancy. Good for you.” She turned and walked away, ignoring his chuckle. Stupid ass. He might think he was so smart, somehow charming Lucas into making him her bodyguard. But if he thought she was just going to let him walk all over her and bully his way into her life, well, he had another think coming.
Chapter Eleven
“Hello, neighbor,” Delacroix greeted as soon as she opened the door of her apartment the next day.
“You again,” she groused. Having had no time to go grocery shopping, she didn’t have any food or coffee at home, and she was starving. “What are you doing here? And how did you know where I live?”
He held up a large paper bag. “I have breakfast. Why don’t you let me in and—”
She snatched the bag from his hand. “I don’t have time today. I’ll eat in the car.”
He didn’t return her car keys last night, so she let him drive, too tired, hungry, cranky, and jet-lagged to argue. They were pulling out of the garage when she opened the paper bag. “What the heck is this?”
“Food, cher,” he said.
She opened the top off one container and stared at the gray goop inside. “Oatmeal? You said you got breakfast.”
“Oui. That’s a healthy breakfast. There’s also fruits, yogurt, a vegetable omelet, and some toast.”
“Where’s my coffee?”
“Coffee?” he scoffed. “I have orange juice and milk in the back seat, so you can have some folic acid and calcium.”
If she wasn’t so hungry, she would have screamed at him. “I was going to get pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon.”
“Then good thing I came along, eh?”
God, she wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. Instead, she reached into the bag and pulled out a spoon, shoveling as much oatmeal as she could into her mouth in as short an amount of time as she could so she didn’t have to taste it. It abated the gnawing hunger in her stomach at least. As she was about to dig through the bag for more of the food, she stopped and glanced over at Delacroix.
Today he wasn’t wearing his suit, but instead donned his usual attire of T-shirt and jeans, his leather jacket slung in the back of his seat. He didn’t bother to ask her if she wanted him in uniform as her—she snorted—bodyguard, but that was him in a nutshell. Never asked, only did what he wanted, like worming his way into this position.
As he maneuvered the car with a relaxed ease, she couldn’t help but stare at his muscled forearms, the way the veins under the tattooed skin twitched as he changed the gear or turned the wheel. His scent wafted over to her nostrils, which her hussy of a wolf just loved. His handsome face was scrunched up in concentration—why had she never noticed that little line between his brows, and why did she want to just reach over and touch it?
He suddenly looked over to her and realizing she was staring, flashed her a grin. “See something you like, cher?”
“No.” She grabbed a piece of toast, shoved it in her mouth, and stared out at the road ahead. Stop it, she told herself. No staring. No looking. And definitely no touching.
For the next two weeks, she had to endure his hovering over her. He was the first person she saw in the morning and the last before she went home. He always brought her her meals or took her to dinner, and she was just too busy so she let him. While she grumbled about his food choices, he seemed to learn which foods she liked and which she didn’t, and as long as she always ate the healthy stuff, like broccoli and kale, he made sure that she got something she actually wanted for the next meal, like pizza or tacos. Also, he glared and terrorized anyone who came near her, especially Dan, who, after a couple of days, just suddenly gave up even trying to talk to her. But, if anyone at GI had any opinions about his position as her bodyguard, they didn’t say anything, not even Wyatt or Lizzie whenever they had their morning meetings and he hung around the command floor.
“Any news on our shooter?” she asked Lizzie.
She shook her head, her pigtails swishing over her shoulders. “Sorry, Mika. I’ve exhausted most of my contacts. The mages must have used a professional that’s not from their usual list of contractors. I’ll talk to Astrid again, see if our guys got any more evidence.”
On the evening of the shooting, Astrid, Nick and the other members of the Lycan Security Force had searched the entire street. They found a car that had been abandoned a couple of hundred yards away. It had been modified so the shooter could lie down inside the trunk as he pointed his rifle through a hole drilled in the side of the vehicle. The shooter was definitely human as he left no trace scent except his sweat and urine, which told them he had been waiting there a long time. The gun was nowhere to be found, but they deduced he either took it with him or dumped it in the Hudson River.
“Thanks, Lizzie,” she said. “If you guys are good, we’re done here.”
As they left the conference room, she saw Delacroix chatting with Jacob just outside the door. “Hey, Mika,” Jacob greeted. “Welcome back. Sorry I haven’t been by to say hi. Cliff’s been keeping us busy with torture—er, training.”
“Nice to see you too, Jacob.” An idea struck her. “Say, it’s been a while since Delacroix’s done any training.” She smirked at him. “Wouldn’t want him to lose his touch.”
“Lose my touch?” he asked indignantly.
“Why don’t you take him to training for the afternoon?” she suggested. “In fact, it’s an order.
