13. Evgeny
Evgeny
The safe room is soundproof, so I’m glad I’m not forced to listen to whatever the hell Harper is screaming at me right now. I can easily imagine the profanities coming out of that pretty little mouth of hers. I don’t need to hear them firsthand.
I haven’t even made it back upstairs before I feel my family cell vibrate against my chest. Knowing I can’t ignore it, I pull it out while I climb the stairs and grab her bag, fishing around until I find the keys to her apartment.
NIKI:
Care to explain what the fuck is going on?
ME:
Not really. It’s complicated.
NIKI:
Try. Surely you can dumb it down enough for me to understand why Harper is locked in your safe room right now.
She is really pissed, by the way. I hope you didn’t like the black mug because she broke it and I’m pretty sure she’s going to try and stab you with a piece of it when you open the door. Might want to watch out for that.
ME:
Thanks for the heads-up.
I sigh and type the next message because there’s no hiding it now.
ME:
She saw my tattoo.
NIKI:
Fuck.
The one-word answer sums up everything I’m feeling.
ME:
I’m going to take care of it.
NIKI:
How?
ME:
I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will. Don’t say anything to the others yet. They have enough to worry about.
NIKI:
You’re killing me right now, Ev.
ME:
I’ll get it figured out. I just need time.
NIKI:
Better hurry. This isn’t a secret that’s going to stay hidden for long.
ME:
Yeah, I know.
I press the button for the carriage doors. While it opens, Niki sends one last text.
NIKI:
When you get back, I’m going to ignore the feed until you tell me otherwise. I don’t want to know what in the fuck you’re doing. Text me if you need help dealing with this.
I send a quick thanks before taking a few minutes to pull her car into the house to hide it.
Getting in my Audi, I pull out and head towards Harper’s apartment.
As if this night wasn’t weird enough. I’m now on a greyhound rescue mission.
I’m actually a little excited about seeing her dog again.
I’m guessing he’ll be a much more pleasant house guest than his owner.
Parking outside her apartment building, I make my way up to her floor. I know more about this woman than I care to admit, so finding her unit and letting myself in only takes a few minutes.
“Hey, Watson,” I say, trying to sound friendly and hoping he remembers my voice and briefly wondering if I’m about to be mauled by a very long-legged, long-nosed dog. I shouldn’t have worried. The dog in question is still sprawled on the couch, watching me with a bored look on his face.
“Wow,” I tell him. “I’m going to assume this is because you recognize me and not because you’re the worst guard dog in the history of all dogs.”
He ignores my insult. The soft noise from the TV draws my attention, and when I see what Harper’s left him to watch, I can’t help but laugh.
Walking over, I pet his head and ask, “Have they solved the mystery yet?”
He closes his eyes while I scratch behind his ears. “Do you have any idea where she keeps a suitcase?”
Watson doesn’t suddenly become Lassie and lead me to what I need, so I give him one last scratch and then walk through her apartment to find it on my own.
Her place is on the small side, but it’s clean and it feels so much like her that I feel the corner of my mouth start to lift before I force it to stop.
When I step into her bathroom and see a picture of a pig in a bubble bath, I lose the battle and catch myself smiling in the mirror above her sink, the one that’s littered with all the kinds of things women keep in a bathroom, all the things I’m completely ignorant about.
I have no idea what she’ll need, so I decide to pack as much as I can.
Finding a suitcase in the hall closet, I go to her dresser and start piling clothes in.
It’s hard to not feel like a pervert while my hands are full of her underwear.
When I find a lacy red bra and my cock stiffens in my pants at the images my brain starts to conjure up of Harper wearing it for me, I know I’m in serious danger because I can’t fall for the woman I’ve just technically kidnapped.
The rational part of my brain is in full agreement, but my cock definitely hasn’t gotten the memo yet.
It’s too busy dreaming about how good it would feel to be buried hilt-deep in what I imagine is an absolutely amazing pussy.
Ignoring my raging hard-on, I stuff several shirts, some jeans, and what looks to be an extensive collection of sweats and yoga pants into the suitcase before finding another bag and tackling her bathroom.
There’s no rhyme or reason to the things I see on the shelves, so I just grab everything I can see.
Checking under the sink, I see a box of tampons and pads that get added to the mix, and a blow dryer, because I have no idea what a captor should pack for his captive.
Looking at what I’ve packed, I’m pretty sure this isn’t the usual way things go in situations like this, but I’d rather her have more than she needs than be missing something.
Plus, I can always order her anything I’ve missed.
Dropping everything by the door, I find some reusable shopping bags and start loading up all of Watson’s treats and toys. He hasn’t budged from the couch, and it’s only when he hears his food being tossed around that he gets up to come and see what I’m doing.
I hold out a dog bone for him. His long nose nudges my hand gently before he takes the treat.
His loud chewing and the small crumbs that dot his lips make him look really fucking cute.
While he eats, I pack up the laptop that’s on the desk in the corner and gather up all the pieces of paper lying around it.
Harper is clean everywhere but her workstation.
It has the feel of a brilliant fanatic. I can easily picture her sitting here, furiously scribbling notes and typing while she tries to uncover a story.
Hell, she probably researched the hell out of me while sitting in this exact spot.
It probably drove her crazy when she couldn’t find anything.
That makes me happier than it probably should, but I love the idea of her obsessing over me.
I can so easily imagine the cute, pissed-off look she must’ve had on her face.
While her greyhound is happily snacking, I load the bags into my car and then come back for him. I make sure everything is shut off in the apartment, and then the last thing I grab is Watson’s leash.
“Come here, buddy,” I tell him, squatting down so I can attach it. His brown eyes watch me, more curious than wary. I pet his head while I say, “I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but I think you should hear it from me first. I took your mom and locked her in my safe room.”
When he takes the news in stride, I continue, “She’s okay, and I want you to know I’d never hurt her.
You’re going to see her yell at me, though.
A lot. And she might try to throw things or cut me, but I want you to know that you’re safe.
We both love you, Watson, and you will continue to have a soft place to sleep and food in your bowl. Okay?”
He steps closer and licks my face. “You’re taking this really well,” I tell him. “I appreciate that, and I’m so glad your mom decided to adopt you instead of a German shepherd or Doberman.”
With everything settled, I grab his leash and stand back up, leading him out the door and to his new home.
I know this is the worst thing that could’ve happened, and I still have no idea how I’m going to fix the mess I’m now in, but I can’t deny that even though this should be my worst nightmare, it kind of feels nice.
I feel like a guy with a dog who’s on his way home where a beautiful woman is waiting for him.
Yeah, there are some issues, but it still beats not having a dog and coming home to an empty house.
“Maybe she’ll fall in love with me,” I tell Watson when he’s settled into the passenger seat. His lithe body fills the space as he looks around, wondering what in the hell is going on, but he stops long enough to give me a Get your head out of your ass look.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I start the car and pull out onto the road. “But maybe after a few years she’ll learn to tolerate me.”
I know it’s bullshit. I can’t keep her captive for the rest of her life, and there’s no way she’s going to keep my secret.
She’s a journalist, for fuck’s sake, and I just gave her the story of a lifetime.
I won’t even allow myself to think of the obvious solution.
All it would take is a phone call, and Harper would never be seen or heard from again.
Problem solved.
The very idea has me gripping the steering wheel harder and clenching my jaw.
That’s never going to fucking happen. I’ll keep her until I can free Sasha, and then I’ll make sure my family is safe and let her go.
I’ll take the hit and figure out a way to survive it, because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever allow any harm to come to her.
“I’m so fucked,” I mutter to myself as I drive us back to the home that currently has a woman locked up in it.
Watson hears something in my weary tone that has him leaning over and giving my hand a lick.
I reach over and pet him. “Don’t worry,” I tell him.
“I won’t lock you up in a room. I trust you more than I trust her.
You’ll have free rein of the place if you want it.
Although, I’m guessing you’ll just park your bony ass on a soft cushion and call it good. ”
He makes no move to disagree, and when I pull into my garage and let him out, he runs around, sniffing the place that’s still filled with traces of Harper.
Wagging his tail, he follows me downstairs, stopping in front of the bookcase and proving he could be one hell of a tracker if he ever decided to put forth the energy.