21. Laura
laura
. . .
S he’s kinda cute when she’s sleeping.
I didn’t expect the big bad serial killer to fall asleep just like that. For her to be so vulnerable with me.
I spent a lot longer than necessary in the shower. It would have been so easy to get in there with her and start us off on a repeat of the previous night. But I held firm. I stayed in bed. I kept reading over the documents I had to—even if I did read the same page about twenty times.
And then she came out.
I knew she was probably fucking with me. I mean, she had to be, right? Who would have the balls to flirt-text someone while I’m literally in her bed?
The most annoying part was just how annoyed I was.
But it was more than that… I was jealous .
I had never been jealous of anyone in my life. Envious, maybe, but jealous? No way. Jealousy was something you felt when someone was threatening to take what was yours.
And I made sure I always had control of everything and everyone I wanted.
It took the entire shower for me to calm the crawling feeling that was running up my back.
When I finally forced myself out of the shower in nothing but a towel and a broken ego, I was shocked to find that not only had she agreed to my silly barrier, but she was dead asleep, her script lying on her chest.
I inched closer, afraid to wake her, and took in the softness of her features. Something I hadn’t allowed myself to do before.
She had been right when she said I was being shy.
I was… embarrassed. I couldn’t believe I let her do those things to me. At one point, I begged for it. I would have taken anything she wanted to do to me. All of which meant I couldn’t deny just how much I enjoyed it.
And she knew it.
Harley didn’t look like someone who would mercilessly murder people, but then again, some of my clients looked like complete angels when they were anything but.
I carefully picked up the script, placed it on the bedside table next to her, and turned off the light.
She was even more dangerously beautiful in the darkness. Against my better judgment, I grabbed my phone and took a picture of her. She didn’t even flinch.
She must be really exhausted.
I jerked back when the thought flashed across my mind.
Am I… worried about her?
I shook my head violently.
She made you sign a contract after killing someone in front of you because she wanted you. Get your fucking shit together.
But even so, I still wanted to know more about her. Who she was, how she worked. Yes, I’d been thoroughly fucked by her, but I was almost disappointed to realize it wasn’t enough.
It would have been so much easier if she was just an itch to scratch.
But now she’s under my skin.
Fuck.
With a sigh, I walked over to my side of the bed, shed the towel, and put on my shorts and tank set. I could have taken them into the bathroom, but a part of me wanted her to see me in a towel and get greedy.
Except she fell asleep.
I was exhausted myself, so even with the thoughts running in my head, and even if she was next to me, it wouldn’t take me long to crash. Harley had also been right to warn me about being out in the heat for too long.
But just as my eyes were fluttering shut, my cell phone started vibrating.
I grabbed it, noting Ana’s contact showing up.
It was late back on the mainland. She shouldn’t be working.
Irritation ran through me.
“Ana, I thought we talked about office hours?—”
“Laura.” Her voice was low, deadly. The tone was enough to have me sitting up in bed.
My eyes drifted to Harley, but she was still fast asleep.
“Did something happen?” I asked and quietly slipped out onto the balcony so as not to wake the killer. I mean, one would expect a killer to be a light sleeper, right? “Are you okay?”
“It’s not about me,” she said quickly. “It’s you.
Listen, I knew it was weird that I couldn’t find anything on her parents last time, so I wanted to do a little more digging, you know?
” Fuck. I had totally forgotten to ask her to dig deeper.
“I know you didn’t ask for it, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I just felt like?—”
“Ana,” I said, cutting off her panicked ranting. “Just get to the point.”
“Her parents are not Joseph and Mary Hart . They’re Joseph and Mary Hartford . You know? The Hartfords?”
“Joseph and Mary Hartford…” I mumbled. The names were familiar. Eerily so. I knew them… But how?
I racked my brain trying to figure out where I had heard of them before, but nothing was coming up.
“The Hartfords… Weren’t those the ones… Oh .”
The memories hit me like a ton of bricks. It had been so long. More than a decade. But I remembered. The whole country knew them.
“The doomsday cult,” I whispered.
“Right,” Penelope confirmed. “The ones who mysteriously killed themselves and left their child behind. They found her covered in her own blood. She was alone in the house for a whole week before anyone knew what happened. It was Harley , Laura. She was thirteen. She had been chained to the bed after some fucked-up ritual, and her parents drank some weird-ass poison to?—”
“Enough,” I said, far more harshly than I intended.
My gaze shifted back to Harley, who was still peacefully sleeping in the bed.
I had seen the pictures. I had read the news articles. Because she was a minor, they had done pretty well at not disclosing her identity. There was no photo of her in the press. Everyone knew of her, but no one knew who she was.
My stomach dropped when I remembered the details of the case. I remembered my parents talking about it and watching it on TV. I remembered just how dark the lives of her parents had been.
How horrible her life must have been.
As someone without the instinct to kill—well, at least by my own hands—I couldn’t fully understand Harley or why she did what she did. But knowing what happened to her, I was able to see where the need came from.
“Just…” Ana let out a sigh. “There were rumors back in the day, once the investigation ran deeper, that she was the one who killed them. It was obviously never proven, but I just want you to be careful.”
I knew the rumors. I remembered the media going from poor kid to possibly murderous kid as if her parents had been saints or something.
And the more I knew Harley, the more I could see what had really happened. The more I pitied her.
It just made our whole situation even more unbelievable. Here she was, the big bad wolf, falling asleep and totally vulnerable. I could do anything to her. Kill her even. And yet…
That poor child.
My body felt heavy, and all the energy was sucked right out of me.
“I am being careful,” I said quickly. “Don’t speak of this to anyone.”
She paused for a moment before speaking. “Okay.”
I didn’t have the energy for more, so I hung up. I stayed out on the balcony for a couple of minutes, trying to come to terms with all of it, before I slipped back inside the room and all but collapsed on the bed.
Right next to the crazy murderer.
The one I was unfathomably starting to feel a bit for.
And when the sound of the pillows hitting the floor roused me from sleep and I felt her arm come up around me, I simply nestled in.
I reached behind me in bed to confirm it.
Harley’s arms were no longer around me, but the warmth of her embrace still lingered.
I was comfortable. Far too comfortable to care about anything else. My head felt heavy, and so did my body. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
My mind was telling me to wake up. To remember the conversation I had last night. I knew I needed to say something. Or do something. But I couldn’t tell what that was.
All the stress and tiredness from the last few days had decided to hit me all at once.
I had work to do. I had emails to read. There was a trial coming up as soon as I came back from the island. I had so many things to do, and all of them were currently swimming around in my head, desperately trying to get me up .
But it was useless. I was useless. And I couldn’t fight it.
The last thing I felt before I drifted back to sleep was the brush of Harley’s cool hand against my forehead. I leaned into it, the feeling spreading down to my neck and body.
I had the urge to grab it, but that too proved to be too much effort.
Her lips kissed my forehead for a couple of seconds, then she was gone.
I couldn’t decipher how long I slept, only that I woke up a few times because of the sweat covering my body. Feeling so helpless was disgusting.
By the time I grabbed my phone, it was eleven. I sat up in bed with a splitting headache and looked over my messages. There weren’t as many as the day before, but still enough that I had my work cut out for me.
I feel like shit.
But work was work. And I needed to get it done. It didn’t matter if I was on my deathbed; this was my life, and I had responsibilities.
I read a message that had come from Harley.
Rest up. I’ll be back sometime at lunch to see you, my love.
Ugh. That same heart-fluttering feeling washed through me.
But so did my conversation with Ana the night before.
Harley had a shitty childhood. That was probably what had turned her into what she became.
Sometimes the way of the world was to kill or be killed.
I believed the rumors. It was likely Harley who had killed them after having to take years and years of their abuse. Fuck knows what they’d done to her.
But even if I was sure of it, it didn’t answer my questions. It only added more .
It seemed like nothing would stop my burning curiosity.
Or my want for her.
Shit.
I messaged her back.
No need.
I didn’t need her to babysit me. And I was way less likely to do what I needed to get done if she came back. Her reply was quick.
You’re up? I’ll have someone send you some food and medicine. Don’t strain yourself.
I’m fine.
I felt you. You might not have had a fever when I left, but I still think you should take something. Just to be safe.
My fingers paused over the screen. What do I even say to that? No one in my life had ever taken care of me like this before.
It was… more than slightly uncomfortable. There had been many a time in my life when I wanted someone to want to take care of me like this.
Like my parents. As a kid, when I wanted their attention, I used to fake being sick to spend more time with them.
And, of course, when I was younger, I dreamed of a partner who would come and sweep me off my feet, though I kept those deep, dark thoughts to myself when I was alone in bed and vowed they would never see the light of day.
After all, I was the strongest woman I knew.
And that gets exhausting.
I locked my phone and grabbed my computer. At least work would distract me from these feelings in my chest.
But my pounding head was still a problem, so when room service knocked on the door, I reluctantly went to get it.
Harley had ordered a feast, including coffee and pancakes.
“Damn her,” I murmured as I took it in.
She’s making it really hard for me to keep her away.
I took the coffee and small box of Tylenol she probably had someone buy for me.
I promised myself to come back for the pancakes. I just needed to reply to a few emails.