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. He had to deal with this, and quickly, before things got any more out of hand.
Carver walked to the kitchen, setting the pie on the counter. The sweet aroma did little to calm his nerves. He headed to the back room, where the prisoner was bound to a chair, eyes wide with fear.
“What the hell was that about?” the man spat, struggling against his restraints. “Let me go!”
Carver approached him, his expression darkening. This room was soundproof but he’d forgotten to close the door when Lucy rang the doorbell.
“You need to keep quiet,” Carver said calmly. “Or things will get much worse for you.”
The man glared at him but said nothing more, recognizing the dangerous edge in Carver’s tone. Carver tightened the gag around his prisoner’s mouth, ensuring there would be no more outbursts. He checked the bindings, making sure they were secure.
As he straightened up, his mind drifted back to Lucy—her face, her fear, and the brief connection they had shared haunted him. He wished for a different life, one where he could be honest with her, but that life was a fantasy, far removed from his reality.
With a final glance at his prisoner, Carver left the room, closing the door behind him. He returned to the kitchen and cut himself a slice of the pie. Carver took a bite, slowly savoring it, wondering what Lucy was doing now. Had he blown his cover? He had moved into this apartment so he could do his work quietly, away from the watchful eyes of his two brothers. They meant well, he knew, but sometimes he needed a little breathing room.
As he finished his first slice and cut himself another, he couldn’t help but marvel at Lucy’s baking skills. The pie was perfect—sweet, tangy, and comforting in a way that made him crave more. He wanted to taste more of her sweet treats, and not just her baking. But had she already become more suspicious of him? Would she call the cops?
Whenever a potential problem cropped up, Devlin and Galen trusted him to deal with it, and yet he didn’t want to believe Lucy would be a problem. She was a sweet girl, too innocent for the likes of him. She probably believed his excuse.
He finished the second slice, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The memory of Lucy’s doe-like eyes filled with fear gnawed at him. He had seen enough fear in his line of work to know it well, but seeing it in her eyes was different. It unsettled him, made him unhappy.
Carver rinsed his plate and set it in the sink, his thoughts drifting back to the girl who lived in the apartment next door. If Lucy ever found out the truth about him, about what he did and why, it would shatter her perception of him completely.
He glanced at the clock. It was late, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with the lingering taste of Lucy’s pie on his tongue.
What if Lucy did become suspicious? He couldn’t afford to let her derail his work. Yet, he also couldn’t bring himself to hurt her or drive her away.
Carver’s cell phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up, saw it was a message from Devlin, asking him if the prisoner had talked yet.
With a sigh, Carver stood and walked back to the room where his guest was held. Opening the door, he looked at the man bound to the chair, his eyes wide with fear and desperation.
Carver approached him, his expression hardening. “We’re going to have a little chat,” he said quietly, his voice cold and controlled. “And you’re going to tell me everything I need to know. If you cooperate, this will be over quickly. If not...” He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but clear.
As he prepared to extract the information he needed, Carver couldn’t shake the image of Lucy from his mind. Her kindness and the way she had looked at him with those trusting eyes.
He pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. There would be time to deal with his feelings later—if there was a later. For now, he had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how sweet they might be.
****
Carver groaned, realizing he’d fallen asleep on his sofa. The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a harsh glare over the room.
“Morning,” a familiar, cheerful voice greeted him.
He glared at Devlin, who stood there in his sleek and fancy suit, casually sipping a morning coffee. For a moment, Carver was angry. This was supposed to be his private space.
Devlin had promised not to intrude, and yet here he was. What was he even doing here? Questioning his work? What if someone saw Devlin in his suit and fancy car?
No, Carver wasn’t worried about his brother getting robbed. The Arrow brothers had a certain reputation in the city, and even a two-bit thug knew not to mess with any of them.
But still … what if Lucy saw Devlin enter his apartment? Then again, he doubted Lucy would even recognize or know his brother.
“Woke up in a cranky mood, I see,” Devlin said, smirking over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Why are you here?” Carver asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Calm down. You didn’t respond to my text last night. I was worried. Galen told me you probably just got carried away with your guest,” Devlin said, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness.
Carried away. Yeah, Carver supposed that sometimes happened to him. None of them—Devlin, Galen, or himself—had turned out normal thanks to their father.
