Page 42 of Carte

If I couldn’t sleep I could at least do something useful and check out the feeds of the cameras around the property to make sure all was as it should be. Anything to stop replaying the image from this morning on the loop.

Of how she tore down another wall for me to see the real her. Her pain. How alone she was. It was gut wrenching, she was constantly surrounded by people, but in the end, she had no one. I knew how that felt a little too well. And then, she bared it all when she talked about the abuse she endured and how brave she was when she pulled herself out. How strong.

I barely kept myself in check as she talked about her ex and what he did to her. I tried to squash it, but pride surged in me whenever her words about how she got away flitted through my mind.

Fucking Hell, but she was something.

A pure dynamo.

There was no way I would ever be able to forget her words as she was talking in a small voice, but still tried to joke about it just to make me feel better.

Or how satisfaction bloomed on her face when a praise I couldn’t bite back slipped my mouth.

And then she did the impossible. With her wit, she made me laugh. I haven’t missed her jolt when I did, but the look of pure, womanly satisfaction on her face that came on the heels of her shock almost broke all my defenses.

I could only thank my guardian angel that she didn’t get a chance to do what was clearly written all over her. Touch me.

If she did, I was positive I couldn’t hold back.

I would cave and have her then and there.

Thank God for my meddling family, and for Max’s text of demand for an update of the state of affairs, his words, between Harley and me, that came in.

She’s the job.

She’s not yours.

She can never be yours.

I repeated my new mantra over and over again while I waited for the feed to reload.

Clicking through the feeds I checked every inch around the house.

All was clear.

Just as I was about to get up, and try to ease the tension and chase the buzzing need in me with a light workout, a ping sounded in the silent room.

An email alert popped up on my monitor, and I clicked.

The moment it loaded, the muscles in my neck went taught, and my molars ground together.

There, on my screen was a picture of Harley in bed. Sleeping.

“Fuck,” I leaned closer, and at what I saw, my blood ran cold freezing me in place for a precious second.

The picture taken was of Harley in my damned house.

In the next heartbeat, I had my gun and Taser in my hands, and I crept to the door.

Quietly opening it, I checked the hallway and quickly crossed to Harley’s door.

Without a moment of hesitation I went into her room, and checked it.

There was no one standing over her by the bed or lurking in the shadows. The closet was opened, and walked over to it checking every nook.

Nothing.

Knowing they could be somewhere in the house, I went to the bed, “Dynamo.”