Give It All by Cara McKenna

you.”
    “I’m meeting with the Grossiers and Miah today, at noon.I’m going to tell them you’ll be needing our help while you ride out this legal drama. We owe you that much.”
    He frowned. “I have plenty of money, thank you.”
    “Not money. Protection.”
    He shivered, blaming it on the desert’s morning chill. “That strikes me as unnecessary.”
    “Don’t care what it strikes you as,” she said, rubbing her bare calf with her heel. “There’s no guarantee that the corruption ended with Levins and Tremblay. And after what happened to the sheriff, and to Alex, we can’t take any chances. Plus, Kim helped us, and we made sure she stayed safe. Same applies to you.”
    “I don’t require protection.” He had done so, once upon a time as a child, but hadn’t been offered the luxury then. Without it he’d suffered kicks and slaps and cigarette burns, but lived to tell. Well, not to
tell
—to suppress, mainly. But in any case, he didn’t need anyone’s protection. “I appreciate your concern, as well as your logic. But no. I’m not some helpless victim in need of a safe house.” Not anymore. Not ever again.
    “Like I said, I don’t care what you think you need. Just know it’s being arranged. Sure you don’t want anything to drink? Or some toast?”
    He stood, folding the blanket. “I’m perfectly fine.” As if she’d buy that, when he’d been steered bodily into her home, intoxicated and shaking. It shamed him to remember, with a clear head. She was the last person in this town he’d ever have wanted to see him in that state.
    So why did I go to the bar in the first place?
Indeed. Straight to her. He stuffed the thought down.
    He found his shoes and sat on the coffee table to lace them. He longed for his oxfords, for a suit and tie, for his car. For the trappings of the man he’d worked so hard to become, whom he’d lost yesterday when his job was taken from him. He was like a screen, the position a projection he relied on to give him his identity. Without it, would the clothes even be enough? Or would everyone see him for the flimsy, blank expanse of nothing he was?
    “I’ll let you know what we decide,” Raina said.
    He met her dark eyes, letting his irritation drown out the distress. “I thought Vince Grossier was pushy, but you’re giving him competition.” It was obnoxious and patronizing, andstrangely, it made him want to pin her against the doorframe and remind her which of them was the more aggressive sex.
    Her stare was steady. “If pissing you off and pushing you around means I don’t wake to the news that someone shut you up, the way they silenced Alex and Tremblay, in that crummy little motel room . . . Then yeah, I don’t have any issue with that.”
    “Being pushed around requires consent,” he said, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys. “And rest assured, I won’t be tendering any. Thanks very much for the tea and sympathy, Ms. Harper.” He brushed past her into the kitchen.
    “If you’re going to be stubborn, somebody could stay with you, instead. Unfortunately it’d probably be Casey. He’s the only one of us with time on their hands.”
    “No one’s helping me. No one ever has before, and I’m perfectly comfortable with that.” And he was showing far too much emotion. He steadied his voice and met her eyes with his hand on the doorknob, recalling what she’d said last night. “If you want to be what a man needs, Ms. Harper, we both know there’s another one waiting, more than willing to volunteer.”
    Her smile was sharp and dry. “We’ll resume this conversation later, Mr. Welch.”
    *   *   *
    Raina was first to the spot. She dug out her keys to open the left-hand bay door and hauled it up, sunshine spilling into the old auto garage, glinting off the carcass of a touring bike Vince had liberated from the junkyard. She’d lugged a case of beer up the street from Benji’s, and she stocked the fridge. Miah would need a couple