The main entry door on the first floor banged shut then footsteps pounded up the stairs.
The knot in her stomach tightened.
Only a male walked so heavily. Heart thumping, she waited to see if he continued up to the third floor.
He stopped and rapped on her door.
Her stomach clenched.
He knocked again.
She closed the laptop, pushed off the blanket and padded to the door. “Who is it?” Maybe she could get rid of him without opening up.
“My name is Slade.”
Slade? The name was familiar.
“I ah … assisted you a few months ago.”
Oh, Jesus. Now she knew who he was. He’d helped her home after the loss of her baby.
Alyssa flipped the three locks and opened the door. Her mouth fell open. She clapped it shut.
Large and shivering, he towered over her five-seven by a good eight inches. He looked as if he’d been on the losing end of a fight. Blood ran down the side of his finely-chiseled face and matted the hair falling just past his shoulders into clumps, turning the strands from coffee bean-brown to black. More blood stained the t-shirt stretched tight over a well-defined chest. Arms bulging with muscle held a tightly bundled coat.
Intelligent brown eyes met her stare.
Her breath caught.
Even wounded, he exuded power and raw sexuality. She quelled the urge to step back. Dear God, why was a warrior at her door? She didn’t want anything to do with a male, much less one who would be a magnet for serious trouble. And this one was in the Resistance, which equaled the worst kind of trouble.
Something inside the coat whimpered.
“Can you help me?” He glanced toward the bundle.
The look of helplessness on the face of such an otherwise intimidating creature broke through any hesitation she might have had. Besides, he’d helped her during the worst moments of her life.
She moved back. “Come in.”
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