Chapter 40
She was quiet on the drive home and up to the apartment. Probably a good thing, because he was seething. He didn't think he'd be able to keep his shit together if she started talking to him. Not that she'd been exactly chatty with him over the past three days, but she talked more than enough over those few hours in that shit church basement to make up for it.
He glanced at her serene face as she stood passively while he unlocked the door to her condo and did his usual security sweep. He wanted to shake her and smack the look off her face. And he wasn't usually violent toward women unless they were trying to kill him. But this one was trying his patience. For days, she'd been on the verge of panic, pacing her bedroom, jumping at every sound he made and staring at him like he was the big bad wolf. Now, after forcing him to take her into the dark heart of Vancouver's lower East Side and telling a gut-wrenching story of pain and loss, she was acting like life couldn't be better.