Chapter 17
Seventeen
Blair
I’m not sure what I expected when Mallory said “break-in,” but this is pretty anticlimactic.
The high metal gates are securely closed as always when we finally arrive back, the headlights from the Land Rover beaming over the darkened driveway.
My companion is on high alert, though, every line of his body tight with tension, like he’s waiting for someone to run out of the woods and attack us in the time it takes to enter the gate code.
“I’m going to lock you in the car when we get to the house,” he tells me as he rolls up the window and the car moves again. Ahead, Thornhurst’s exterior lights are on, illuminating the closed front door and windows on the first floor.
Everything looks normal.
I swallow, glancing at him. “Are you positive someone was in there?”
“No,” he admits, his lips pressed into a grim, flat line. “But I’m also not sure someone wasn’t.”
He’d said more or less the same thing to the local police when he’d phoned them on the way back.
The man he got didn’t sound concerned and said we should call back if we had more reason to be suspicious.
“Sensors malfunction all the time,” the officer had grunted.
“We’re not driving all the way out there for a maybe. ”
Mallory hadn’t been a fan of that reasoning.
He’d hung up, muttering venomously about lazy law enforcement and substandard something-or-other, while I sat beside him, trying not to touch my lips.
I can still feel him there, even now, and it’s the only evidence I have that the kiss we shared in the gas station parking lot wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
That and the fact that he hasn’t looked in my direction since it occurred.
I start as Mallory reaches past me to open the glove box, but as he loops two fingers under the handle to pull it open, I reach out, snatching his wrist before I can think better of it.
My heart is in my throat as he freezes, his eyes finally meeting mine through the pale glow cast by the dashboard.
“I’m scared,” I blurt out, my pulse fluttering. “Don’t leave me in here by myself.”
Mallory’s expression tightens. “These windows are bulletproof, and I’m going to leave the keys with you,” he explains, totally calm in the face of my mounting anxiety.
“Don’t open the doors for anyone but me.
If you see anyone else, I want you to lay on the horn.
You’re good at making some noise; it should come naturally.
” His attempt at humor does nothing to lighten the situation.
“What about you, though?” I whisper, too frightened to pretend I don’t care.
He’s mean and rude, and I hate him, but if the panic I’m feeling is any indication, I really care.
“I’ll be fine,” Mallory assures me wryly and looks away. Under my hand, his forearm flexes gently, and the glove box falls open. There’s a light, and I squeak in surprise when I see what’s nestled in a holder inside.
“Oh my god! You have a gun?”
He glances at me, clearly bemused. “Of course I have a gun.” Reaching inside, he takes it.
I sink back into my seat, watching as Mallory opens and closes little latches, checking to see if the device is loaded.
When he’s done and apparently satisfied, he presses the keys into my hands.
“I mean it, Blair. Stay put. If I don’t come out in fifteen minutes, drive to the village and call the police. Do you understand?”
I nod, numb with disbelief that this is actually happening. “Yes. I—I understand.”
“Promise me.” He utters the two words so seriously, so gravely, staring right into my eyes as he says them.
My vision blurs, my throat tightening to the point of pain, as I manage a nod. “I promise.”
I want to say something else, maybe a plea for him to be safe or not do anything heroic, but before I can find the words, he’s gone. The door closes with a quiet thud behind him, and I lean forward, watching as Mallory prowls along the side of the house, until he’s swallowed by the darkness.
Seconds later, before I’ve even had time to process that he’s gone and that I’m truly alone, the lights in the car fade, and I’m swallowed up too.
I look at the clock on my phone, the numbers even more difficult to differentiate than usual, thanks to the tears blurring my vision. Wiping them away impatiently, I look up, staring out at the house, searching for signs of movement.
Surely if there had been a break-in, the person or persons responsible would be long gone by now. We got the notification at the gas station almost forty-five minutes ago, and what kind of burglar would hang around for that long? They’d take what they came for and go.
Right?
Five minutes pass, then ten, and with each one, my panic mounts higher.
Despite what I promised him, I’m not at all sure I could just leave Mallory here by himself. What if he’s hurt, and I drive away, leaving him wounded and alone? What if—I squeak, lurching forward and straining my vision to see the figure moving toward me through the darkness.
I can’t see his face, but I’d know those shoulders anywhere, and by the time he is close enough to see properly, I’ve already unlocked the car.
“Did you find anything?” I demand, turning sideways in my seat to watch as Mallory gets inside the car, his expression grim and set.
“There was definitely someone inside who shouldn’t have been,” he confirms, putting the safety back on the gun and sliding it back into its holster.
“Whoever it was is long gone, but it isn’t safe for you to stay here tonight.
The house is too big for me to do a thorough search on my own.
” He holds out a hand, and I return the keys to the Land Rover without hesitation.
“Are we going to a hotel?” I ask, sinking back in my seat as some of my panic recedes.
Mallory shakes his head, already turning on the car. “I’m taking you back to my cottage tonight, you’ll be safe there while I deal with the police. I called them when I confirmed someone had gained entry, and they’re already on their way.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I stay quiet, still a little numb with the shock of it all as he puts the car in drive and pulls away from the main house, moving down the access road toward his cottage.
“How could you tell someone had broken in? Was there damage?” I ask when we stop outside the cozy, stone structure.
“A bit,” he replies vaguely, all business as he reaches for the gun again and opens the door, stepping out onto the dark drive.
I feel more vulnerable out here in the middle of the forest than I did parked amidst Thornhurst’s sprawling lawn. Anyone could watch us from the dark trees as we make our way up to the porch. Mallory unlocks the cottage, moving out of the way so I can enter first.
It’s the same as I remember it, sparse, clean, and impersonal. I wrap my arms around my middle, watching as he goes around, closing all the curtains and lighting lamps.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask with a shaky little laugh. “Leaving me here by myself?”
“Whoever broke in got what they came for,” he assures me. “They’re gone. And, even if they’re not, this place is secure.”
That makes me laugh. “Are we forgetting that I gained entry? With practically no effort?”
Mallory shoots me a dark look and pauses beside one window, pointing to a tiny white box mounted at the very top of the frame, the same color as the paint and barely noticeable. “This is a motion detector,” he explains. “I installed them on all the access points after moving in.”
My mouth falls open as I look around, spotting one on every door and window. “That’s how you knew I was in here?”
Shaking his head, Mallory sighs, striding over to the kitchen area and reaching up to take something from on top of the cabinets.
Lowering his arm, he sets a small red canister down on the kitchen table.
“This is pepper spray. You won’t need it, but keep it with you, just in case.
The police should be here soon. I’m going to the gate to meet them and walk them through the house.
After that, I’ll need to call your father’s team, brief them, and get them down here for a more comprehensive sweep of the property in the morning. Go to sleep, it may take a while.”
I watch silently as he shoulders off the nice wool jacket he’d worn for the trip to Wyngate and takes his favored pullover from off the hook beside the door.
The chances of me actually being able to sleep seem pretty slim, but I sink down in the lone armchair beside the dark fireplace as the adrenaline pumping through my veins finally thins.
When he’s ready to go—gun hanging in a holster on his hip—Mallory glances at me, his expression set in his familiar, disapproving frown. “You can sleep on the couch.”
I smile weakly. “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you again, Satan.”
All business, Mallory scoffs, heading outside without a goodbye. A second passes, and then I hear the deadbolt clicking into place, locking me in alone.
The muscles in my body seem to give up the fight all at once, and I sag back into the chair, tucking my knees up under my chin as the finer points of the day I just had sink in.
Six hours in the car with Mallory, grinding all over him in a department store dressing room, and being put down by my father’s horrible campaign staff—who made it clear I was only there to smile, wave, look pretty, and definitely not talk—on top of making out with Mallory in a gas station parking lot and now, a break-in at Thornhurst…
yeah, maybe I’ll be able to sleep after all.
I’m too weary to do much snooping, but I steal a T-shirt from Mallory’s drawer, and when I go into the bathroom, the first thing I do is open the medicine cabinet. The watch is where I last saw it, wound and ticking gently on the top shelf.