Finding Him (Him Series Book 2)

12-God, are you trying to tell me something?

Izabelle

I'd just gotten out of the shower when my phone dinged.

I stomped down a tremor of fear, nearly dropping my towel. Ugh. Unacceptable. It wasn't like I could lose it every time a call or text came in. If you carried a phone, those tended to happen.

Drying off, I took my time getting dressed, not that it took long to throw on shorts and a tee. Next, I combed my hair, slid my feet into flip-flops, and hung up the towel. I was not letting some unknown person destroy my peace. I'd check my phone when I was good and ready.

The phone began to ring, taunting me.

Grabbing the toilet brush and cleaner, I gave it a good scrub. Take that scary texter! I took a deep breath, flushed the toilet, and scrubbed it one last time.

Satisfied I hadn't let fear rule me, I walked to the kitchen to check my phone.

I sagged with relief when I saw Lucy's name on the screen. Convincing her I was fine would have been easier if my voice wasn't shaking. She wanted to come over and I didn't argue. Company would be nice.

Fifteen minutes later a knock sounded on my door. "Come in!"

The door opened. Heavy footsteps fell. I turned and screamed at the strange man standing in my living room.

"Please! Don't hurt me, lady!"

I wielded my broom like a weapon. To my surprise and horror, the man held up his arms and dropped to the floor.

I stared down in confusion at the big man curled in a fetal position, with his hands covering his head. This guy had to be the worst robber ever, not that I knew many of them. He sort of looked familiar. Uncertainty moved within me.

I was afraid I'd made a mistake, and that was before he started crying. Big chest-shaking sobs with tears and pleas for mercy. I blinked at the man begging me not to hurt him, and I had no idea what to do.

Hunter stormed into my apartment, his keen gaze perusing me first then the man on my floor.

Hope lit in the man's eyes when he saw Hunter. "Please," he begged. "I came to check the pipes."

It all clicked into place like puzzle pieces, and the broom fell from my hands. I recognized the handyman who worked in the complex. He was kind, slow in speech, and terrified of me. My stomach clenched. What had I done?

"Oh, no, I didn't mean—" I dropped to my knees in front of him but that only agitated him. "I'm so sorry."

"I came to check the pipes," he kept repeating over and over.

Slowly, carefully, kneeling beside him, I reached out to comfort him but pulled my hand back when he flinched. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I stared helplessly at Hunter unsure of what to do.

"I think his name is Waylon," I whispered.

Hunter crouched beside him. "Hey, buddy, my name's Hunter. Are you Waylon?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

His name was Waylon, and he calmed enough to speak to Hunter. "The upstairs has no air." He pointed up. "I just wanted to check the pipes."

"I believe you. Why don't I help you find those pipes," Hunter suggested, patting the man's back. "We can have a look at it now."

The man's big eyes settled on Hunter with blatant appreciation, and his thick lips curled in a smile. "Thank you."

Waylon's gaze darted to mine and he quickly glanced away as if just looking at me would hurt him. I felt terrible about what had happened—SHSHSSHH!