18. Paul
18
Paul
P aul didn’t recall Harper being this annoying years ago. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t fighting for her life back then. Maybe he should cut her some slack.
Gritting his teeth, he let his brother clean his side and glue his wound shut, then, for good measure, add those butterfly closure strips. From the bags of clothing Eddie brought, Paul tugged a T-shirt over his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Alright, I gotta get going,” Eddie announced.
Paul nodded. “Thanks.”
Turning his eye to Harper, Eddie pointed a finger. “Behave,” he said with a wink.
“Fuck off,” she snapped.
Biting back his laughter, Paul couldn’t blame her for her response. His brother, on the other hand, let his chuckle out with no regard as he left the house.
Now that they were alone again, Paul turned his focus to Harper and assessed her condition.
Her cheek was red and raw. Tiny cuts dotted it from where she’d slid. Dirt lingered on her face. Her leggings were torn at the knees, and she had some scrapes there as well. She needed a shower.
Approaching her, he held up the disinfectant and a box of bandages. “Let me take care of you.”
With her mouth slightly ajar, she shook her head. Lifting her chin, she turned away from him. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Getting to one knee, he nodded. “Honestly, I don’t either.”
“Is there a contract out on me?”
“Yes,” he said as he blocked the opening of the disinfectant bottle with a cotton ball and turned it upside down.
“And now there’s one on you too?” she asked.
Pausing, with the cotton ball hovering over her knee, he let that knowledge settle in before he sighed. “Yes.”
He’d figure that part out. Tenderly, he patted the scrape on her knee.
Reflexively, she jerked back and hissed but didn’t make to kick him. Thankfully, she just let him tend to her wounds. His balls were safe for now.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
Everyone wanted him to have this all figured out already, but it’d been too much coming at him at once. He hadn’t had a chance to sit and think it through. “Maybe if you didn’t try to escape, I would have time to come up with something.”
“You mean to tell me that if your potential murderer held you captive, you wouldn’t fight back?”
“I’m not—” He stopped himself. He couldn’t say that, and he didn’t want to lie to her.
This conversation was impossible right now. He was too rattled by how everything went down. He needed a moment to think.
After he stuck a bandage on her knee, he took care of the other one and moved up to attend to her face.
She was a mess, and he hated seeing her like this. Harper had always presented herself well. He should offer her an opportunity to clean up. He wanted to, but now that Eddie was gone, he couldn’t exactly leave her alone.
That was, unless he could figure out a way to make sure Harper didn’t run from him. He could tie her to the bed. She might actually like that.
Decisions, decisions.
As Paul blotted at her cheek, cleaning the scrapes, their eyes caught. Her dark-brown irises had flecks of amber, and a golden ring circled her pupils. They were truly captivating, and he may have stared into them for far too long doing nothing. The softness and vulnerability reflecting at him tugged at his chest.
This woman had far too much of a hold on him.
Turning away, he stood. He had to put distance between them. Being so close to her made him feel things he wasn’t ready to consider.
“We need to eat,” he announced and busied himself collecting the first aid items. “Eddie brought some groceries. I can make us some sandwiches.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft, docile, and unlike her.
From over his shoulder, he glared at her with suspicion. “Don’t run.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t exactly open the door with my feet.”
He wouldn’t put it past her to try to jump through a window at this point. “Put it this way. I am no threat to you right now.”
“Just right now ?”
“For the next hour.”
“But after that?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“So, I have an hour of safety to plan my next escape.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. Irritation made his head throb. “Do you want to take a shower or not?”
Doing a bit of a double take, she once again blinked at him, wearing a perplexed expression. “Is that an option? I thought we were just talking about food. You are aware that I can’t hear your thoughts, right?”
At this point, he didn’t want to hear his thoughts, but things were what they were. He steepled his fingers, pressed them to his lips, and took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself and sort out his brain.
“While I’m making us sandwiches, do you want to take a shower?” he said slowly, forcing the words to be monotone as his emotions warred within him.
Affection, attraction, duty, confusion, alertness, defense—everything jumbled up, and he couldn’t think straight. He had to get a grip in order to make smart decisions from here on out. No more mistakes or fucking around. He had to figure out a way to stop Harper from setting him off-kilter so easily.
“That would be nice,” she said.
“I will undo your wrists if you promise not to run again. It’s not safe for you out there.”
“It’s only safe for another hour in here.”
“We’ll negotiate that over lunch.”
She lifted her brows, but he couldn’t tell if it was in surprise or not.
“It’s not a secret that none of this has gone to plan.”
After bobbing her head back and forth, as though considering his words, she finally nodded her agreement. Thankfully, she didn’t launch into some sort of tirade about it.
“I need to think about what I’m going to do next. I can’t do that while you’re trying to escape. It will be a thousand times worse for you out there. I assure you of that.” He gestured to the front of the house. “At least you know me and what I’m capable of. If I do kill you , it will be quick and painless. I will look you in the eye when I do it. I’m not a coward.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. To her credit, she held his gaze throughout their talk. She was tough as fucking nails.
Damn, this woman was under his skin.
“If I cut your restraints, will you run?”
“No.”