Harlow

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

LYNX

The lamp beside my bed casts a warm glow over Harlow’s sleeping form as I sit quietly in my office, drumming my fingers on the chair arms while staring at the monitor on the wall above my desk and replaying everything I know about the woman who’s to blame for this awful feeling that’s swallowed me whole.

I’m addicted. Obsessed. Like a junkie desperate for his next hit, I need more.

After she passed out in the woods with my cock still seated deep inside her, I made a decision, one I’ve been toying with ever since catching a glimpse of her dark past.

How a father—a religious one at that—could allow such horrific things to happen to his own flesh and blood is beyond me.

But never again will she live in fear. Never again will she flinch at a man. Never a-fucking-gain will she feel the sting of a blade breaking skin or the pain of being taken without consent.

Not just because I’m going to finish off the fucks who hurt her. But because against my better judgment, I’ve decided she’s mine.

Oh, the irony of the situation.

Standing from my desk, I power down my computer and saunter down the hall to my bedroom and over to the bed.

I seat myself beside her, reaching down and sweeping a lock of silky hair away from her face.

She releases a little sigh and stirs beneath the covers, the satin sheet slipping down and exposing more of her beautiful skin.

As if she can sense me watching her, her lids crack open and she peers up at me with sleepy eyes.

“Lynx,” she whispers, confusion furrowing her brows. “What—“

“You’re alright. You fainted.”

She winces, a pink hue creeping into her cheeks. Instead of making her embarrassment worse, I grab the glass of water and ibuprofen from the bedside table and offer it to her.

“Here. It’ll take the edge off.”

She sits up slowly and presses her spine to the headboard, tugging at the covers to keep her body hidden. I rest my hand on hers, coaxing the sheet back down, showcasing those gorgeous fucking tits that drive me wild.

“Don’t hide from me, Harlow. Not now. Not ever.”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and nods. And I’m irritated and rock hard all over again.

“Speaking of hiding …” she says quietly. “Terrance’s body. What did you do with it?”

“Joey cleaned it up.”

She blinks. “Oh.” Then she accepts the ibuprofen and tosses it back with a swig of water. “So now what?”

I angle my head at her, completely baffled by her resilience and strength. While most people would be running for the hills, Harlow’s calm and collected, asking the man hired to kill her what the plan is.

“You’re fascinating.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is mentally unstable.”

“No doubt about that. But you’re also strong and courageous.”

“And you’re clearly delusional. Besides, what choice do I have? I’ve been backed into a corner with no other option but to face the situation head-on. I can’t run. I can’t hide.” She shrugs. “So this is it for me.”

Resting my hand on her thigh because I can’t fucking stop myself from touching her, I tell her, “You have options, Harlow. Maybe not ones that appeal to you. But there are always options. Most people in your situation would’ve taken off running a long time ago.

But not you. You, little killer, persevere like nobody I’ve ever met.

And not only that, but you do it with unflappable courage.

Do you have any idea how incredible it is to watch you handle situations the way you do?

To pivot and adjust to whatever’s being thrown at you? ”

She stares at me, wide-eyed and unblinking. I take her silence as an opportunity to continue on.

“Like back in the forest—“

She slashes an arm through the air, cutting me off. “I was terrified back there, Lynx. Mortified, actually. And I have regular panic attacks over the dumbest stuff. Always have and always will. That’s not courage. That’s a weakness.”

I shake my head. “Panic attacks are not a weakness. They’re a normal human response to stress.

What matters is that you find a way to move through those attacks and carry on with life.

Which, despite all odds clearly being stacked against you, is exactly what you’ve done.

You’re the strongest woman I know, Harlow. And I say that with my whole chest.”

Her eyes well with tears. “If I’m so strong, why do I feel like giving up?”

My gaze darts to the scar on the inside of her wrist and my chest tightens. When I look back up at her, her bottom lip is trembling. A lone tear breaks free and slides down her cheek.

I swipe it away and hook her chin with my forefinger.

Staring deep into her big caramel orbs, I tell her without hesitation, “Because even the greatest warriors need rest.”

I leave Harlow alone and go in search of a stiff drink, pouring myself a shot of bourbon and downing it. I pour another one and down that too.

After the third, I’m feeling no goddamn better than I was before.

Setting the empty glass down on the marble island, I drag a hand through my hair and take to pacing my kitchen.

According to Harlow, there are three more of those sick pricks out there. And I know that if given the opportunity, she’ll take off again in search of them.

Fuck. The urge to lock her up so I can take care of it for her is strong. But now that I know the extent of the horrors she survived, I can’t bring myself to do that.

Who knew having a conscience could be such a royal pain in the ass?

And Joey, as reliable as he is, is no match for her wits or charm. No doubt she’ll have him eating out of the palm of her hand before I’m even a block down the fucking street.

Which leaves me with only one option.

I bark out a humorless laugh and shake my head in disbelief.

How the fuck did I get here?

Just as I’m considering waltzing back into my bedroom and finishing what we started in the forest, the doorbell rings.

Grabbing my gun from the back of my jeans, I storm through my house to the door and peer through the window, recoiling in shock when I see who’s on the other side.

Gritting my teeth, I tuck my gun back into my waistband and open the door.

“Hey, Lynx,” Lily chirps up at me, her smile bright and eyes twinkling with mischief. I’d know that look anywhere because it’s the same one she used to give my uncle right before she’d sneak out of her bedroom window and go meet up with her friends.

“Lil. What are you doing here?”

She peeks around me as if searching for something. I block her view with my shoulders and cock a knowing brow at her.

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d pop by and see my big brother.”

“In the neighborhood,” I deadpan, shooting her a look.

“Yep! So are you going to invite me in or what?” She holds out a small pastry box and waggles her eyebrows. “I brought your favorite cookies, just like mom used to make them.”

“Lil. I’m sorry but you can’t come in right now.”

“How come? You have a girl over or something?” Her grin tells me she already knows the answer.

On cue, Harlow clears her throat behind me.

I glance over my shoulder to find her standing in the living room in one of my white button-down shirts, the hem falling mid-thigh and sleeves rolled up her crossed forearms. She has one hip popped and a cocky little smirk plastered on her face.

I try not to think about whether she has panties on and opt for clenching my jaw instead.

“Ah-ha!” Lily gloats, pushing past me and setting the box of cookies on the console table. “So it is a girl.“ She waltzes straight up to Harlow and slowly circles her, looking her up and down before stopping in front of her.

Groaning, I swing the door shut and turn to face the only two women on the planet who have the unique ability of making my eye twitch.

“While my idiot brother works on finding words in that empty head of his, let me introduce myself. I’m Lily.”

Harlow glimpses my sister’s growing stomach, smiles at her, then accepts her handshake.

“Harlow. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. Now tell me, Harlow, how did my overbearing wiener of a bro bag such a baddie? It must’ve been fate because no way did he pull you without having the power of the universe on his side.”

Harlow’s eyes find mine, all sparkly and full of defiance.

I shoot her a warning look not to divulge too much information.

Or else …

She keeps her gaze locked on mine when she responds, “I don’t believe in fate. More like karma.”

Lily glances at me. Then back to Harlow.

“You already have inside jokes I see. How cute. So how long have you and my brother been banging exactly?”

“Jesus, Lil.” I step in to put an end to the conversation before it goes any further.

Both women stare at me, waiting for me to say something more. But what?

Scrubbing my face with my hands, I think things through.

Before I have a chance to make a decision, Lily swats the air and says to Harlow, “Don’t mind him.

He’s just pissed that I finally caught him red-handed.

” When Harlow’s brows furrow in confusion, Lily tacks on, “This is the first time I’m meeting one of his girlfriends.

Not that he has others. I just mean … You know what?

Forget I said that.” She presses the back of her hand to her forehead.

“I think it’s all the pregnancy hormones making me babble on senselessly. ”

Harlow’s expression is one of horror. “We’re not … you know … an item.”

Lily scrunches her nose. “Right. Sorry.”

“Lil,” I cut in. “Now’s not the time.”

She glances at me. “Oh. Would tomorrow be better?” When I only glare at her, she rolls her eyes and huffs out, “Such a grump. I guess I’ll leave you two to do whatever it is you were doing before I showed up and crashed your party.

” She saunters past me and to the door. “But before I go … Harlow, you should totally come to Thanksgiving. The Archer family could use another woman at the table. Lord knows I’m outnumbered by men in that house.

” She rests a hand on her stomach. “And there’s another one on his way.

” Lily shoots me a wink, then disappears out the front door.

“Lynx Archer,” Harlow says my name as if tasting it on her tongue. “Guess now I have a legal name to give to the cops when this is all over.” She flashes me a wicked smile.

My lip twitches in amusement. “We’ve already established you’re not going to the cops.”

“Hmm.” She taps her chin and feigns thought. “Well, at the very least, I’ll have a name to engrave on the rock I bury you six feet under.”

I stalk toward her. She matches each of my strides with one back, her confidence waning with each step.

“You’re not going to do that either.”

When the backs of her legs bump the side of the sofa, I reach out and wrap my hand around the nape of her neck and bring my face within an inch of hers.

“What you are going to do, Harlow, is get dressed before I rip that fucking shirt off your body and eat you alive.”

All the blood drains from her face as she wets her lips and swallows. But that defiant spark behind her irises still burns bright, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

I just had her a few hours ago, and already I’m hungry for more, toying with the thought of bending her over the sofa and fucking the defiance right out of her.

But what good would that do?

She’d still find a way to get under my skin.

Harlow reappears a little while later, dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain pink tank top with no bra.

Even fully clothed, she looks like something out of a wet dream.

“Better?” she asks sweetly.

I refrain from glancing at the hard ridges of her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her top and grit out through clenched teeth, “Not even a little.”

Smirking, she rounds the kitchen island and takes a seat across from me. “So …”

With my palms splayed out on the granite in front of me, I parrot, “So …”

“Your sister seems nice.”

“Hmm. She thinks the same thing about you.”

Her spine straightens. “Really?”

I nod. “She wasn’t even out of the driveway before blowing my phone up with texts. Apparently, she thinks you two should be friends.”

Harlow snorts. “Friends with my hitman’s sister. Guess that would be a story for the grandkids someday, huh?” I stare at her until she begins to squirm uncomfortably. “I don’t mean our grandkids. Because obviously we’re not a couple. I just mean …“ She winces.

“It’s fine, Harlow. Drink?”

She blinks. “What?”

My lips hook into a grin. I love it when she’s flustered. “Would you like a drink, Harlow?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

“Manners. I’m surprised you know what those are.”

Her expression falls flat as she shifts in her seat. “I may be a little unstable at times, but a barn animal I am not.”

My laugh is genuine. “Touché.”

Turning my back to her, I grab two glasses and the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pour us each a stiff drink, sliding hers across the marble between us.

I lean against the counter across from her and watch as she accepts it with thanks and begins fidgeting anxiously with the glass, not bothering to take a sip.

“So, I had a thought,” I tell her cautiously, unsure how she’s going to react.

“A thought. The poor thing is probably lonely up in that big, hollow noggin of yours.” When I simply glower at her, she rolls her eyes and huffs out, “Continue on.”

“You said there are three more out there.”

Her voice lowering an octave, she responds, “Yes.”

“And they all know each other.” She nods. “So they’ll likely have communicated your whereabouts already, correct?”

She lifts her chin and shifts in her seat. “I would presume so, yes.”

“So they’ll know you work at The Devil’s Den.”

Her expression sours. “You mean worked,“ she grumbles. “Past tense.”

“No, pretty girl. I mean work. Present tense.” She stares at me in confusion. “I made a few phone calls. You still have a job. If you still want it. Although the idea of you taking your clothes off for other men makes me feel a little … violent,” I tack on.

“You better not be yanking my chain …”

I bark out a laugh. “No, I’m not yanking your chain, Harlow.

If they know where you work, it’s only a matter of time before they show up looking for you.

” Pressing my palms to the island, I lean forward and say with the seriousness of a full-body rash, “But you’re not going there alone.

Not while those pricks are still alive. You’ll abide by my rules until they’re dead and you’re safe. Do you hear me?”

She stands and saunters around the island, lazily dragging her pink-painted fingernail along the marble as she prowls toward me in a sinfully seductive way.

Lifting onto the balls of her feet, she brings her lips to my ear, her breath tickling my neck and sending a rush of heat to my cock as she whispers sweetly, “I’ll be a good girl, Lynx. I promise.”

Her tone is laced with dishonesty, and I just know there’s not a chance in hell she’s going to make this easy on me.