Liam stared at Tasha standing in his doorway.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her hands still trembling at her sides.
The hallway light cast shadows across her face, making the tear tracks on her cheeks glisten.
"Tasha, what are you doing here?" His voice came out sharper than he meant it to. "The police just dropped me off. Why aren't you with them?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes darted past him into the apartment, then back to his face.
"They want me dead," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Who? Who wants you dead?" Liam stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And why the hell are you at my place? After those guys just tried to kill you in your own house—"
"Can I come in first?" Her voice cracked. "Please?"
Liam's jaw tightened.
His shoulder throbbed where the crowbar had connected, and his split lip was still bleeding through the gauze.
