12. Harper #4
“So what’s the plan?” I look over at him while I prop my feet up on his ottoman. “We’re living together now, and you’re just hoping that no one notices I’ve disappeared, that I’m not returning phone calls or doing my job? I thought the mafia was a bit more organized than that.”
“Bratva,” he automatically corrects and then pauses when he realizes what he’s done. Shaking his head, he comes over and sits down next to me. Leaving a cushion between us, he gives me a weary look and leans back, mirroring my slumped position.
“You’ll have to forgive me for not having a fully formed plan in place.
I hadn’t expected to be keeping you captive when you showed up tonight.
Had I known, I would’ve made sure you had Watson and would’ve probably bought snacks.
” His mouth quirks up the tiniest bit. “I have no idea what I’m going to feed you.
I guess I’ll be giving Uber Eats a lot of business. ”
“You’re not just going to throw a loaf of bread at me and a jug of water?” I ask, unable to keep the snark out of my tone.
“Well, this is my first time holding a captive, so I’ll probably play it by ear, but I think you’ll find the accommodations pleasing.” He looks over at me. “A five-star captivity is what I’m aiming for. I’d hate to get a bad review.”
“Jesus,” I groan when I accidentally laugh. “This isn’t funny, Ev.”
“No, it’s not,” he agrees, “but if I don’t laugh I’ll go crazy right now, Harper.”
He rubs the tension from the back of his neck, and I notice how tired he looks, how very much at the end of his rope he really is.
“Don’t you think things would be a lot easier for you if you just walked away from all this?” I lean forward, trying to reason with him. “I know I’ve given you a hard time, but you seem like you might actually be a decent person.”
When he raises a brow at me, I say, “I know. I was just as surprised as you. I really didn’t see that one coming, and aside from you not letting me leave right now, I’ve been mostly pleasantly surprised by our interactions.”
He scoffs at that and drops his hand from the back of his neck, giving up on trying to relieve the tension. “It’s too early for Stockholm Syndrome, Harper, but nice try.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I say. “I would never insult your intelligence like that.”
This time instead of a scoff, I get an actual laugh. Wanting to keep him in a good mood, I smile and say, “I know you’re way too smart to fall for something so obvious.”
“I liked it better when you bitched at me. This is weird and so fake it’s bordering on eerie.”
I give up and rest back against the cushion. “Well, I can’t piss you off too much right now because I still don’t have my dog.”
“I would never let anything happen to Watson. You’re just not going to like what I have to do while I go get him,” he says, and worry starts to creep in.
“What do you have to do?” I ask, envisioning several things that involve ropes and gags and knowing with absolute certainty that I don’t want any of them. “I could go with you,” I offer.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says, quickly dismissing my idea. “Relax, it’s not that bad. I just need to make sure you’re not going to try and escape or trash my place or, knowing you, set it on fire so the police have to show up.”
“Fuck, I wish I’d thought of that,” I say, because that’s not a bad idea. I file it away just in case the opportunity ever presents itself and ask, “So what do you have to do to me that’s not that bad but probably worse than I want?”
He stands and motions for me to do the same. Not seeing the point in fighting him, I get up and then follow him back downstairs to where his car is parked. Leading me to a set of stairs that leads down to the lower level I hadn’t realized was here, I hesitate at the top.
“I don’t do so well with dungeons,” I tell him.
“It’s not a dungeon, Harper. Relax. You’ll be perfectly safe.” He’s already halfway down, so he has to turn to look back up at me. “If you want me to get Watson, this is how it has to be.”
Shooting him a look that makes it clear I don’t like having my dog’s safety used against me, I follow him down, because I’d do anything for that cute, lazy greyhound, even if it means willingly walking into a possible dungeon.
The lights come on automatically, and I’m relieved to not see concrete with a drain in the center of the floor.
Instead it’s plush carpet and another living area with a comfy couch and chairs.
There’s also a large, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, but it doesn’t look like it’s a room that gets a lot of use.
Following him further into the space, I step behind him when he pauses in front of a bookcase.
It’s the same unusual collection of genres as upstairs, and when he moves several aside to reveal a hidden keypad and sensor, I watch in fascination while he types in a long code that he makes sure I can’t see before leaning closer and staring at the small black sensor.
I let out a surprised gasp when there’s a click and the bookcase swings open. “Did that just scan your eyes?”
He opens the bookcase wider, revealing what looks like a tiny home. I look over at him.
“Are you kidding me? You have a safe room?” I run my eyes over the small space, trying to take it all in.
I’ve only seen safe rooms in movies, and usually they look like the inside of an elevator.
No frills, just a place to get your ass to in case of some horrible home invasion.
Ev’s safe room looks more like an episode of Tiny House Hunters.
There’s a small kitchenette, a comfortable-looking recliner, there’s even a small bookshelf with a few paperbacks, all of them horror, which seems fitting, I guess, for the occasion.
I turn back around to stare at him. “You have a safe tiny home in your fucking house, Ev? Who the hell does that? Oh wait,” I say, answering my own question. “A lawyer who’s secretly a fucking Bratva member does that.”
He ignores my anger and sarcasm and instead steps closer.
His large body seems to fill up the small space as he towers over me.
My breath catches on the scent of him and the nearness that’s impossible to ignore.
I curse my body for its reaction. I should be pissed at him.
I am pissed at him, but I can’t help the way my heart trips over itself or stop the needy ache that settles between my legs.
His eyes stay locked on mine as he reaches around, grabbing my cell from my back pocket.
I’m too busy wishing he was naked to stop him, and when I see my only way to freedom in his hand, I curse my own stupidity and take a step back because I clearly lose my ability to think the closer I am to him.
“You’ll be safe here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait,” I start to say, realizing a little too late what he’s about to do. “Ev!” I yell right as he shuts the door in my face. I barely hear the click of the lock over the sound of me screaming his name.