Obsessed (The Protectors #13) - Sloane Kennedy Page 0,4
have pretty good gaydar. And nothing about Matias had made it ping. Of course, with the guy as cold and detached as he was, I doubted he’d ping on anyone’s radar, gay or straight.
Though I'd always thought I was someone who could read people, Matias had left me fumbling like some insecure teenager. I hadn’t even had enough courage to shake the man’s hand to thank him for what he’d done. And if my behavior hadn’t been bad enough, I’d actually started to physically react to the man while standing right in front of him. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually popped a boner in my own living room a mere hour after one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I had to write it off as adrenaline related.
As I made my way to Ryan's room, I gave the spot between the living room and the hallway a wide berth because that was where my attacker, Blake, had put his gun to my son’s head. Part of me wondered if maybe I just needed to consider selling the house because spots like that would likely haunt me for the rest of my life. But I’d only adopted Ryan six months earlier, so the last thing the nine-year-old needed was any kind of instability in his life and moving definitely counted as instability.
I felt a little bit better once I reached his room because the damage wasn't bad; nothing more than a broken window. I went to the kitchen to grab a broom and dustpan. Since my son was in a wheelchair, I’d renovated the house and had all hardwood floors put in, among other things, so it would be easier for him to get around. That made cleaning up the glass easier. I'd have to board up the window until I could arrange to have it repaired, but otherwise my son's room was ready for his return. I just wasn't sure if he was. I'd tried a few times over the past several days to talk to Ryan as we’d both stayed with our neighbor, who also happened to babysit Ryan on a regular basis, but my son hadn’t wanted to talk about the incident with Blake.
I’d already reached out to a child psychologist because I had no doubt Ryan would start showing signs of the trauma he’d endured at some point. Despite cerebral palsy stealing away his ability to communicate in the same way other people did, my son was a normal kid and he had normal reactions. His efforts to “forget” what had happened three nights ago wouldn’t work and I needed to be prepared for that.
Once I got the glass cleaned up, I made my way to the back door just off the kitchen. I wasn’t a particularly handy guy but figured I could manage to pound some nails through a piece of wood to board up the window until I could hire someone to come out and replace it. For once, the Seattle weather had cooperated and laid off the rain for the last few days, but I wasn’t going to push my luck since angry storm clouds had been rolling across the sky all day.
It took me several minutes to find a piece of wood in my little garden shed that I thought would work. I left the shed with the intent of seeking out a hammer and some nails in the garage, but the second I turned around, I let out a hoarse shout and dropped the piece of wood. And on my own damn foot, no less.
“It’s just me,” the shadow standing near the fence line said.
Since I recognized the voice, I didn’t hesitate to growl, “Jesus fucking Christ,” as I slumped back against the shed door and tried to catch my breath. I didn’t normally swear, but I figured the hulking figure lurking in the darkness not ten feet from me was reason enough to let the F-bomb fly. Not to mention my foot hurt like a son of a bitch.
“Matias?” I asked when my terrorized heart finally began beating again in my chest. The man hadn’t said a word during my tirade.
He still didn’t. Instead, he stepped into the light cast across the backyard from the motion-detecting floodlight. The man was as dangerous and intimidating as he had been just three days earlier and I couldn’t help but wonder if he stood in front of a mirror and practiced getting the look just right.