Chapter 3: Ruby - Keeping Knight

“We can release you tonight, as long as you have someone who can stay with you.”

The doctor glances up from his clipboard, his unruly brows drawing into a questioning V. “Is there anyone?” he continues. “I don’t feel comfortable sending you home unless there is.”

I’m so exhausted, it takes several seconds for his words to register. Just like the nurse who spoke to me earlier, and the police officers before that, everything seems like it’s coming from a great distance. Nothing wants to make sense.

“Miss Ashe?” he prods. His pen taps the clipboard in a quick, staccato rhythm. “It’s important that you have someone with you. If you’re alone, and your throat swells more than it already has…” He shakes his head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

I know I need to answer him. I’m just not sure what to say.

Yes, there are people I could ask to stay with me. Or rather, stay with them, since my apartment is currently missing a front door and the living room window has a neat round hole in it from where the intruder cut the glass to get in.

“It’s not that difficult, unfortunately,” one of the police officers informed me. “Use a high-quality glass cutter to make a fist-sized hole near the lock. Then they can just reach right in and open the window. It’s one of the dangers of those old fire escapes. Access is far too easy, especially for an experienced criminal.”

I used to love my fire escape. One of my favorite things to do when the weather is nice is to put a little chair out there, bring a book and some freshly brewed iced tea, and just enjoy my bit of outdoor space for a while. I could go to one of the nearby parks, but I like having a spot that’s only mine.

The fire escape was actually one of the reasons I chose the apartment to begin with. After growing up watching countless movies and shows set in New York City, the fire escape had become synonymous—in my mind, at least—with the quintessential New York apartment. And when I saw my fire escape, I fell in love with the idea of having my own bird’s-eye view of the city.

Well, maybe not bird’s-eye. I’m on the fourth floor, not the fortieth. But still, I liked it. And in the ten years I’ve been living there, the fire escape has become one of my very favorite features of the apartment, along with the original crown molding and the worn herringbone floors.

My dad wanted me to buy something in a newer building—one with a full-time doorman and plenty of security and fancy amenities. But I wanted to live someplace with history. Character. I wanted to feel like I was living in my own version of the movies I’d always loved so much.

Since my dad was the one actually buying the place, he could have put his foot down. But I was his only child, and by his own admission, he couldn’t resist spoiling me. So, once he realized how much I wanted to live there, he agreed.

Ever since I lost my dad last year, my apartment has made me feel closer to him. There are memories everywhere, from the bathroom we renovated together to the vintage card catalog we drove all the way to Saugerties to buy at an estate sale. Sometimes, when I’m sitting on the couch watching TV, I can practically feel the cushions shift as if he’s sitting down beside me. I’ll catch a whiff of his cologne. I’ll be certain, if only for a moment, that I heard him laugh.

Just memories, of course. But they help on the days when I’m afraid I might forget him.

And now…

Now my apartment has been tainted by violence. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forget the terror when that man attacked me. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel completely safe there again.

“I’ll fix the door,” Micah assured me while we waited for the police to arrive. Beyond the open doorway, half a dozen of my neighbors milled around, buzzing with curiosity and sneaking glances inside my apartment when they thought no one was looking. Micah’s best friend, Nico, was standing guard at the door, having rushed over there only minutes after Micah had called him. “I’ll have someone over here tonight to replace it. And the window, too.”

“You don’t have to,” I replied automatically. “I can do it.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “Besides, I’m the one who kicked the door in.”

To save my life, was the part he left out. If Micah hadn’t come back to my apartment when he did, if he hadn’t heard suspicious sounds coming from inside, or didn’t have the strength to kick down the door, I’d probably be dead.

A chill races down my back. For a moment, my lungs forget how to work.

I could have died tonight.

That man could have killed me.

I can’t kid myself that his intention was otherwise. His hands were clamped around my throat. His heavy weight had me trapped. By the time Micah started kicking at the door, I was on the verge of unconsciousness.

But why me? Was I just a random victim? Or was I targeted, like I heard Micah suggesting to his friends while he waited in the hallway for the doctor to examine me?

“I’m not leaving you,” he told me firmly as the paramedics hustled me into the ambulance. “No one’s going to hurt you again, Ruby. That’s a promise.”

Somehow, he convinced the paramedics to let him ride in the ambulance with me. And when we reached the hospital, Micah came right back into the exam area and stayed in my room until the ER doctor forced him to leave. I could tell Micah didn’t want to. But he grudgingly left, warning the doctor, “I’ll be right outside the door. Right outside. So if I hear anything…” Then he turned to me, and his expression softened. “If you need me, Ruby, just call out. I’ll be there before you can blink.”

In all the terribleness of tonight, Micah’s been the only good part of it. Rescuing me from almost-certain death to start, comforting me, staying by my side for hours, calling his friends from Fox & Falcon to help him protect me… I already knew I liked him. But seeing this new, protective side of him makes him even more appealing.

“Miss Ashe?” The doctor’s features pinch with concern. He sets the clipboard on the edge of the hospital bed and clicks his pen, turning on a little light at the end of it. He leans forward to shine the beam in my eyes. “Are you feeling dizzy? Disoriented? Nauseous?”

I flinch away from the bright light. “No. None of those—” My wounded vocal cords resist, and I swallow painfully before continuing, “I feel fine. My mind wandered is all.”

“Fine?” His bushy brows jump up his forehead. “Are you sure?”

I swallow again, and my hand instinctively comes to my throat at the resulting pain. “I’m sore,” I reply. “My throat hurts. But I’m not dizzy. Not⁠—”

“Ruby.” Worry roughens Micah’s voice as he rushes into the room. He hurries to my side, ignoring the doctor completely. “Are you alright? Is your throat getting worse?” Then he turns to shoot an accusing look at the doctor. “Have you checked for new swelling? What about her O2 levels?”

Annoyance flickers in the doctor’s eyes. “The nurse checked”—he picks up the clipboard and glances at it—“half an hour ago. The swelling was stable. O2 levels were good.”

“Half an hour ago?” Micah draws up to his full height, which has to be well over six feet. At least, that’s what I’ve guessed, considering I’m five-three, and the top of my head barely clears his shoulder. “A lot can happen in half an hour. And she’s clearly in pain. Have you given her any painkillers? Not opioids," he amends quickly. “But something to make her more comfortable.”

The doctor blinks at him. “And you are?” he asks.

“Ruby’s friend,” Micah retorts. “One who wants to make sure she’s getting the best care possible.” He frowns. “Maybe we should call in a specialist. An ENT might be helpful.”

“Micah.” The rasp of my voice is still startling. “I’m okay. Really. I don’t need to see another doctor. We were just talking about getting me released.”

“Released? Already?” Micah looks back at the doctor, clearly displeased. “With the swelling, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“As I was just telling Miss Ashe,” the doctor says, “she can be released if she has someone to stay with her. Otherwise, we’ll need to keep her overnight.”

“Maybe that would be a good idea,” Micah starts.

“No.” It comes out with more force than intended, tearing at my raw and aching throat. “No,” I repeat more quietly. “I don’t want to stay here. If I can leave, I’d rather do that.”

Micah gives me a long look. “We’ll keep you safe here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He jerks his in the direction of the hallway. “I’m here, and Rogue and Jester⁠—”

“Rogue? Jester?” Did I suffer oxygen loss, and I’m hallucinating an alternate reality based on the memoir I’ve been editing?

A small smile tugs at Micah’s lips. “Sorry. Rogue is Nico. Jester is Jaxon. You met Nico at your apartment, and Jaxon got here about an hour ago for backup. Rogue and Jester are their nicknames from back when we served.”

“Oh.” I’ve been curious about what Micah did in the Army, but I haven’t felt like it’s my place to ask. And now is definitely not the time to bring it up. “I appreciate that. Offering to stay here, I mean. But the hospital…” Emotion brings a lump to my throat. “It brings back bad memories. If I don’t have to stay here...”

“Are you going to stay with her?” the doctor asks Micah.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible to be embarrassed right now. But, apparently, it is. Cheeks heating, I say, “Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ll find someone...”

But who? My stepmother, Sylvia, who lives out in Suffern? I can only imagine how that would go. We’d learned to tolerate each other during the five years she was married to my dad, but without him as a buffer, our relationship could best be described as strained. If I asked, she’d let me stay with her, but I really don’t want to.

Kylie’s a live-in nanny, so she’s out. Jordan would be a good option, but she’s in London for the next six weeks on a work trip. And I can’t exactly hop on a plane to fly out to Chicago right now. There are some people I’m friendly with through my job, but working remotely eighty percent of the time means we’re not close enough to ask any of them for such a big favor.

But, I realize, the doctor doesn’t know where I’m going from here. I can tell him yes, I have a person to stay with, and I can find a room at a hotel instead. As for the possibility of my throat swelling shut during the night? I guess I won’t sleep, so I can call 911 if it starts to happen.

“Who?” Micah asks. A moment later, his cheeks turn a ruddy pink, which, I have to say, putting it aside from this whole messed-up situation, might be one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen. I can’t explain why, but there’s just something about a big, muscly man blushing that gets me.

“Sorry,” he adds, frowning in apology. “That’s none of my business. But—” His lips thin. “Is it someone with adequate security? We still don’t know who came after you, Ruby. Or if they’ll come back.”

A shudder grabs hold of me, and I wrap my arms around myself instinctively. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” Glancing at the doctor, I lie, “I have someone to stay with. So I’ll be fine to leave.”

The doctor stares at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to press me on it. Ask for a name. An address.

But then his pager goes off, catching his attention. He glances at the pager and grimaces. “I need to go,” he says. “Sounds like you’re all set. I’ll have a nurse come in with the discharge papers shortly.”

And before I can respond, he hurries from the room, leaving me and Micah alone.

“Well,” I start, “I need to make some calls.” Glad that Micah had thought to bring my phone with us, I pluck it from the little table beside the bed. Glancing down, I’m reminded of the hospital gown I’m still wearing, partly covered by a thin blue blanket. “I wonder where the nurse put my clothes.”

I don’t really want to put on the clothes I was wearing when I was attacked. I’d rather burn them, honestly. But between a flimsy hospital gown and those, I don’t have much of a choice.

“The closet,” Micah says. “Your clothes are in there. But, Ruby.”

“What?” I tap my phone to wake it and click on the browser. I’d like to get the hotel room figured out before I’m discharged, so I can go straight there.

Micah’s expression turns even more somber than it already was. “I’m just not sure staying with one of your friends is a great idea. If your attacker comes back, is there going to be enough protection?”

“How would they know where I am?” I ask. “If I’m not at my apartment⁠—”

“It wouldn’t be as hard as you’d think. A garden-variety criminal who just strolls into a convenience store and holds up the cashier; they might not be able to do it. But someone with more experience, computer know-how… they could find out almost anything, if they wanted to.”

My heart lurches. “But we don’t know that I was specifically targeted. It could have just been bad luck.”

Micah hesitates. “Maybe. Hopefully. But we have to consider the other option. It would be dangerous not to.”

The tightness in my chest comes back. “But there’s no reason. I can’t think of anyone...”

“Ruby.” He perches on the edge of the hospital bed and turns to look at me. “I’m not bringing this up because I want to scare you. But you know what I do. Where I work. Right?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“We deal with security issues all the time. Risk assessment and mitigation. System installation and updates. Personal protection. Criminal investigations.”

“And dogs,” I add, feeling stupid the second the words are out. Dogs have nothing to do with what’s going on right now, and I know it.

His features soften. “Dogs, too.” He pauses. “I’ll be honest. I’m worried, Ruby. My gut is telling me it wasn’t a random attack. Not the way it happened, with the glass cutter, and you on the fourth floor… It could have been bad luck. But I don’t want to bank on it either.”

As what he’s saying sinks in, a heavy weight settles in my stomach. “So you think he could come back? And hurt someone I’m with?”

“I don’t know.” Micah’s blue eyes darken as they meet mine. “What I do know is if you were a client, I’d have you staying someplace secure. Like a safe house, or…”

Trailing off, his gaze drifts to the half-open door, where Rogue’s broad shoulder is visible just past it. Then Micah looks back at me. “Or you could stay with me.”

I jolt in surprise. “With you?”

“I have extra security at my condo. F&F installed it. And if anything happened, I could protect you.” He casts another quick glance at the doorway before adding in a low tone, “I was Special Forces. Three years as a Ranger, and five more in Delta. Anyone who comes at me, I can handle them. Trust me.”

Hearing what Micah actually did in the Army, his behavior at my apartment suddenly makes more sense. I don’t know a ton about Special Forces, but I’ve seen and read enough to know that Delta is the best of the best. And working for Fox & Falcon, I’d bet Micah works hard to keep up his skills.

“Stay with you, though?” I turn my phone over in my hands. “That’s too much, Micah. I can’t ask⁠—”

“You’re not asking,” he interrupts. “I’m offering.” His gaze meets mine. “If you don’t feel comfortable staying with me, I understand. We don’t know each other that well. But we have apartments at Fox & Falcon, too. Ones we keep for clients and consultants. So you could stay there. I’d have to arrange for someone to stay with you tonight, whether it’s me or one of our female employees, if you’d prefer. But I really think you’d be safer than staying with a friend or”—one eyebrow arches up—“at a hotel by yourself.”

How did he know?

“My friends in the city aren’t available,” I explain weakly. “One of them is a live-in nanny. The other is out of the country until next month. My stepmom lives in Suffern, but… I don’t want to bother her.”

Micah just looks at me for a long moment. Then he says, “I feel horrible about what happened, Ruby. If I’d only gotten there sooner, or walked upstairs with you…” Regret clouds his features. “I just want you to be safe. If you’re set on a hotel, at least let me get one of the F&F employees to stay with you.”

“Micah.” My voice wobbles as the reality of everything slams home.

My apartment isn’t safe anymore. My attacker is still out there, possibly waiting to strike again. I can’t stay with any of my friends, and I wouldn’t want to risk their safety if I could. I’m tired and hurting and scared.

I try to sniff the tears back, but they’re too insistent. Hot and stinging, they fill my eyes. My nose prickles. My throat burns.

“Ah, Ruby.” Micah scoots closer to me. His hand wraps around mine, big and warm and comforting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Too late,” I blurt. At his stricken expression, I add, “It’s not your fault. I’m just… it’s everything.”

He flips our hands over and rubs his thumb across my palm. “I know,” he says. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” His gaze searches mine. “I’ll help you however I can. Whether it’s staying at Fox & Falcon or my place or a hotel.”

But when I look at the three options—a random hotel room, a strange apartment at Fox & Falcon, or Micah’s apartment—there isn’t much to debate. Not really.

I trust Micah. I did before, and tonight’s made me trust him even more. I believe Micah when he says he can protect me. I think he’s being genuine, asking me to stay with him.

And I like him. A lot. Probably more than I should.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I ask him. “It’s a big imposition.”

“A big imposition?” Micah nudges my arm with his. Then he flashes me a quick smile. “It’s not an imposition at all. I have plenty of room at my place. You’ll have your own bedroom, of course, with a sitting room and attached bath. You can lock the door from the inside, so you won’t have to worry⁠—”

I nudge his arm back. “I’m not worried. Not about you.”

He traces a little circle on my palm with his finger. “You don’t have to be. I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

I know we haven’t known each other that long, big picture-wise. But I don’t need to have known Micah for years to believe him. “What about your dog? Will he mind?”

“Sampson?” His smile widens. “He’ll be thrilled. He loves people. And I’m sure he’ll love you.”

A flicker of warmth sparks in my chest. “And you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m sure,” he replies firmly. “I want you to come, Ruby. I mean it.”

I look into his eyes, searching for any reason to say no. A sign of uncertainty. Of regret. Of resigned obligation. But all I see is an earnest offer he’s hoping I’ll accept.

“Okay,” I tell him. “If you’re absolutely sure, I’ll stay with you.”

His smile, which had briefly faded, emerges again. “Okay.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get you all set up with some warm tea and some comfy clothes, and if you like, I bet Sampson would keep you company while you sleep. It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

“Warm tea? Comfy clothes?”

“My mom always made me tea when I had a cold or the flu,” Micah explains. “And she’s a big proponent of comfy clothes. The older and baggier the better.”

A reluctant smile ghosts my lips. “Exactly.”

“So it’s settled then,” Micah says. “You’re coming to my place.”

The spark of warmth catches flame. “I guess I am.”