34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
LYNX
The look on Harlow’s face is priceless. Shock. Panic. Embarrassment. She cycles through each emotion several times before settling on fury. The white-hot kind that has me biting back a laugh.
And right now, it’s aimed directly at me, her eyes piercing through my skull as she sits stiffly beside Lily, her fingers knotted in her lap while the toy inside her buzzes on low.
Smirking, I pour myself a bourbon from the cart beside the fireplace and relax into one of the oversized chairs beside Severo.
He hasn’t said much since we got here. But he’s watching Harlow closely.
There are moments where he looks amused by her antics.
And others where he appears to be forming some sort of conclusion.
I’m not sure what to think of it all. But one thing’s for certain, I’m having the time of my life watching her squirm.
But then Lily settles a hand on Harlow’s arm and asks her if she’s alright, and all my fun comes to a screeching halt.
Sighing, I reluctantly pull my phone from my pocket and click open the vibrator app to hit the pause button. Harlow visibly relaxes, exhaling a controlled breath and nodding at Lily.
I’m sure I’ll pay for this later when we’re home and she can rip me a new one. But for now, I’ll sit back and enjoy the game.
When Severo begins speaking, completely unaware of what’s going on right beneath his nose, I turn my attention to him and attempt to shove the thought of how wet Harlow must be out of my mind.
“I can understand the allure, son. She’s a gorgeous young woman,” he says, swirling his whiskey around in his glass as he watches Harlow from across the room.
“But tell me, Lynx … If your intentions are not to finish the job, then what’s the plan?
Because the way I see it, you’re leaving an awful mess in your wake, all in the name of saving some woman you barely know. ”
Propping my elbow on the armchair, I swipe my thumb over my mouth and stare at the little hellion in question.
Christ, she’s beautiful. And smart. And bold. And those goddamn eyes …
She’s fucking everything.
Clenching my jaw against the urge to haul her out of here, flip that silly pink dress up over her perfect ass, and sink inside her where I fucking belong, I turn to my uncle and say without hesitation, “The plan, sir, is to kill whoever ordered the hit. Along with anyone else who gets in my way.” I say the last part with a hint of warning in my tone.
A muscle in his jaw slides, his brows furrowed low over his eyes.
“Lynx.”
“She’s innocent,” I tack on bluntly, taking a sip of bourbon to dampen the frustration sharpening my tone.
“Whoever did the recon on her was blowing smoke up your ass. She’s not perfect, but she sure as fuck doesn’t deserve to die.
And knowing what I know about her past—the fucking horrors she’s endured—there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting that happen. ”
I stare him dead in the eyes while he studies my expression, searching for any hint of a lie or hesitation.
Finally, he shakes his head, huffing out a dry laugh as he slowly stands, his bones popping as he straightens his spine and turns to glance down at me.
“I won’t get in your way, son. You have my word. But I will warn you, Lynx … Love turns us all into fools. Even the best of us.”
And then he saunters off toward Harlow and Lily.
Offering a frail hand to Harlow, he says politely, “Come with me, dear. I’ll give you a tour of the house and we can have a little chat.”
Harlow’s eyes widen slightly as she gazes up at my uncle, her mouth popping open as a pink hue creeps up her neck and into her cheeks.
When she glances at me with a slightly concerned look etched across her face, I tip my chin at her, letting her know she’s safe and can trust Severo.
Forcing a small smile, she accepts his hand and stands, smoothing out her dress before following him out of the sitting room, the click of her heels against the marble fading as they make their way down the hall.
Once they’re out of earshot, Lily shifts in her seat, folds her hands neatly in her lap, and asks, “Is she taking her meds?”
I nod. “Every morning.”
“You’re sure? Do you watch her take them? People are sneaky, ya know. Especially ones who don’t want to be medicated.”
“I’m sure. And yes, I watch her take them.”
Lily seems satisfied with that answer and moves on to her next question. “So … are you guys official yet or what?”
I angle my head at her and smirk. “Nosy much?”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and settles a hand on her growing bump. “Just curious, I guess. Besides, once Connor shows up, you’ll need to stake your claim on her so he knows not to flirt. You know how he is with pretty girls.”
Irritation settles in my veins like a thick layer of dust. “Where is Connor, anyway?”
Lily shrugs. “Working. He texted Severo saying he’ll be here for dinner but might be a few minutes late.
Apparently, he’s bringing one of his business partners with him.
Some old guy with no family that’s funding his next business venture or something.
” She rolls her eyes and grumbles sarcastically, “I guess that means tonight will be an absolute hoot.”
I groan quietly to myself, praying to hell something comes up and he gets stuck at the office all night so I don’t have to look at him and his ridiculous over-gelled hair.
Or hear that pretentious fake British accent while he drones on about whatever the hell he does for a living.
Or watch him eye fuck Harlow the way he does every attractive woman he sets his beady little eyes on.
Thankfully, for the next few minutes, Lily keeps me distracted, chattering about pregnancy and all the plans she has for moving out of our uncle’s house and into a cozy condo nearby, even though Severo has opened his home to her and the baby.
Can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t want to sleep under the same roof as our dipshit cousin either. You’d think with how successful he claims to be, he’d have fled the nest by now.
But then again, he’s always been a leech, syphoning every last penny he can from my uncle—his grandfather—while he has a chance.
Just as Lily’s opening her mouth to begin blabbering on again about god knows what, my phone vibrates in my pocket. When I pull it out and see the name on the screen, a wave of adrenaline moves through me.
“I’ve gotta take this, Lil.”
My sister throws her hands in the air and huffs out dramatically, “Guess I’ll just entertain myself then. God, you guys and your jobs.”
Ignoring Lily’s theatrics, because I know she’s just giving me a hard time, I head out onto the back patio and take the call.
The first thing I hear is the popping of someone chewing gum.
It’s followed swiftly by a female voice I’ve been itching to hear from. Sloane, the techy huntress from Sweetwater.
“Hey, handsome. How’s it hanging?”
Skipping the pleasantries, I ask bluntly, “What did you find?”
More popping of gum. Then a long sigh. “You boys are always so serious. Lighten up a bit, huh?”
“Sloane.”
“Alright, alright. I managed to track one of them down.” Another pop of gum.
“He’s a ripe old bastard. Name’s Franklin Fitzgerald the third.
Eighty-one years old. Owns a big real estate firm that deals in buying and selling land for developers.
Says here he was the agent representing Clarence Kraemer—Harlow’s father—on the sale of his church.
Looked into the buyer just in case there was a connection there.
Turns out, it’s a shell company from overseas that purchased it.
Haven’t had a chance to dig further into who owns the shell.
Could be connected. Or it could be nothing.
Anyways, I’ll send over a photo and location for Franklin. One sec.”
Dragging a hand through my hair, I wait for my phone to buzz. When it does, I glance down at the photo on my screen and clench my jaw, a spear of familiarity stabbing at my stomach as I study the face of one of the men who hurt Harlow.
I’ve seen him before but can’t put my finger on where.
“I’m assuming by the sound of your molars cracking that you got it,” Sloane quips.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“So what are you going to do to him, Lynx?”
“Kill him.”
Sloane scoffs. “Well duh. But how?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Hmm. Well, when you figure it out, let me know m’kay? I’m invested now. Besides, foreskins like him deserve to burn twice. Once on earth and then again in hell.”
“Will do. And in the meantime, you’ll keep looking for the other one?”
Pop. “Of course. And Lynx …” Her tone lowers an octave and takes on a dark edge. “Tell your girl that it gets easier. Wounds like hers never fully heal, but the pain becomes more manageable as time goes on.”
And then the line goes dead.
Staring down at the photo of Franklin Fitzgerald, I wonder briefly what Sloane’s been through that would give her the confidence to say such a thing.
My train of thought is cut short by the sound of the patio door sliding open behind me.
Locking my phone and tucking it into my pocket, I turn to face Harlow standing rigid in the doorway, looking a little like she’s seen a ghost. Her complexion is paler than usual. Her shoulders are snapped into a tight line. Her brows are pinched tight and mouth pressed into a firm line.
Closing the space between us, I tip her chin up and ask, “Everything alright, pretty girl?”
She shivers, rubbing her arms before rasping, “Yeah. I’m fine. I-I think—“ She shakes her head to clear whatever thoughts are clouding her brain. “That painting in your mudroom … The one of the cliff you said was close by.”
“What about it?”
She rests a hand on my chest, right over my heart, and shakes her head. “I’ve been there before, Lynx. In person. They—“
Her eyes flutter shut briefly as she counts backward from two and exhales. When she glances back up at me again, I can tell a dark memory has sunk its claws into her, her caramel irises dull and flooded with anguish.
Sweeping a few strands of hair away from her face, I cup the back of her neck and give her a reassuring squeeze.
“Talk to me, Harlow.”
She swallows, her eyes glazing over as her mouth pops open. She’s about to speak. To tell me what she knows about the piece of sacred property my family—Severo—has owned for decades.
But the sound of Lily laughing interrupts our moment and she takes a step back, putting too much fucking space between us. She closes her eyes again, a waxy sheen coating her face as she begins chanting “two, one, breathe” over and over.
She’s doing it again—dissociating—letting her mind wander to whatever faraway land she goes to when she’s reliving one of her horrors.
I get sick of watching her struggle and drag her into me, wrapping one arm around her narrow waist and snaking my other hand into her hair and tugging her head back just as a raindrop splats across her forehead and drips down her temple.
Bringing my lips to hers, I murmur, “Open your eyes, Harlow, and come back to me.”
A small whimper escapes her as she obliges, peering up at me through thick lashes.
Another raindrop falls, this one on her cheek. I watch it carve a path down to her jaw before growling, “Good girl. Now tell me what’s going on.”
A puff of air leaves her mouth, her shoulders slumping when she responds quietly, “Looks like there’s a storm rolling in. We should get back inside.”
And then she pries herself away from me and leaves me standing on the patio alone, something dark and deadly weaving itself through the knot in my gut.