Chapter 2 #2
His hand wraps around my thigh, squeezing gently.
“Sharing you with them isn’t a compromise for me.
The three of us, we’re not normal. We’re never going to be normal.
We’re too fucking messed up from everything we’ve had to deal with to ever live a white-picket life like everyone else does and, honestly, I wouldn’t want to anyway.
Being with you, like this… it’s exactly what I want. ”
A clear declaration, and I get the feeling this is his response to my declaration just before we left school… just like Ash had done. This is Harley telling me he’s not whole and being with him is not the easy option.
It’s baffling to me that he’s worried in the first place.
I don’t do easy.
He lets out a slow breath, one that sounds too weary for the average guy but about right coming from this mobster’s son from the Bay.
“I think it’ll take all three of us to keep you safe.
Keep you alive. Fuck, the three of us and Floss, and maybe even then this fucking world you rule could take you out.
I can’t let that happen, Mounty. Meeting the Jackal, seeing the way he looks at you and hearing the way he speaks to you only made it clearer to me that we need to get you out of here.
Being stuck in that hotel, hours away, knowing the Jackal was pissed and stalking you, never really knowing if you were okay, all while you were here by yourself with no one watching your back—it was a fucking nightmare.
I’m not leaving you like that again, Mounty. ”
It’s a sobering confession, one that shoves me out of the fear-soaked mess of my feelings, only to crash me right back into the cold and unforgiving reality that I live in, regardless of my relationships.
He’s right to be worried about the consequences of our forced meeting with the Jackal.
I was so worried about it that I even sent Illi to watch his back, something I’ll never tell Harley.
With a groan, I collapse back onto the bed, flinging an arm over my eyes like I can somehow block this mess out again.
“I can’t believe you’re making me think about this shit when we’re finally together, alone, in bed with no classes to go to or teenage bullshit to deal with.
This isn’t how I wanted my morning to go. ”
He chuckles at me, leaning down to give me the measliest of kisses, a peck that barely counts as affection.
“I didn’t trust myself, Mounty. I woke up underneath you, every inch of you looking fucking perfect, and I almost made a fool out of myself.
I know better than to play with fire, so I’m not pushing it.
You still look tired, you haven’t been eating enough, and you’ve clearly spent too much time working.
I didn’t spend the whole break desperate to see you just to have you drop dead the minute I get here because I can’t restrain myself.
Get some more sleep. I’ll run down to the store and get the fridge filled up right. ”
When I only huff back at him, he adds, “I’ll make you French toast for breakfast. If you get some more sleep, I’ll even grab you sprinkles and ice cream.”
My heart does a weird thumping thing in my chest and I try to brush it off, but there’s something about the way that he knows me that just… terrifies me. Okay, it turns me on as well, but that only makes it even more confusing.
When he pulls the door mostly shut behind him, I’m out cold in under a minute, clearly just as tired as he said.
I wake up an hour later to my phone pinging, and I seriously consider rolling over and ignoring it.
But, it’s probably Avery and she tends to panic if I don’t get back to her, so I search the sheets until I find it, only to groan at the text.
Sweet fucking lord.
I should have gone back to sleep.
At the beginning of the break Blaise started a new group text that doesn’t include Avery; the ‘joint relationship’ group.
There are a dozen unread messages, but the newest one is from Harley, who has just fucking broadcast my untouched status to the other two without asking me, because he’s an utter dick.
The sound of the front door tumblers unlocking drifts to the bedroom followed by the rustling of the grocery bags. Then my phone pings again with Ash’s reply.
Explain. Now.
“You asshole,” I yell out to Harley, my cheeks heating as I try to figure out how the hell to explain this without tearing their arrogant heads off. I didn’t want to spend the day wallowing about all the shit we aired out, but I definitely didn’t want this as the alternative.
Any guy within the Jackal’s world knows they’re risking death if they touch me. I haven’t left Mounts Bay for anything other than school. I haven’t fucked anyone at Hannaford. Is that a good enough explanation?
I swallow and punch my pillow. I hear Harley rummaging around, putting things away and getting out supplies for my breakfast. This had better be the best fucking French toast of my life. His phone pings out in the kitchen as mine buzzes in my hand.
So you two haven’t fucked yet? How are those blue balls of yours, Arbour?
I roll my eyes at Blaise, but Harley replies in record speed.
My balls are fine, how are yours, dickhead? Just thought I’d let you both know because the Mounty is jumpy as hell about it.
That’s it, I’m killing the fucker.
Ash, please get Avery to start building my alibi. I’m stabbing your cousin.
Harley snorts at me, loud enough that I hear it, and calls out, “Your knife is out here, what else would you do it with?”
“I’m pretty fucking innovative when I need to be, Arbour!”
When I contact the Tiger about meeting up so I can deliver the photos and collect the rest of my fees, he takes a full day to answer me, and it’s only to blow the delivery off until the Twelve meeting that’s being held during the Fox’s party.
Of the eleven other members, he’s the most paranoid of them all.
Vigilant to the point of madness, he’s convinced he’s being monitored in ways that don’t even make sense to me; the girl who’s been stalked by the Jackal for more than half my life at this point.
It’s also as confusing as hell because he never bats an eyelid at any of the surveillance I’m under, which tells me the man is hiding something big.
I also give zero fucks about him, so I’ve never looked into it.
The fact is, he pays well, on time, and sticks to the conditions I give him without a word of complaint.
Honestly, I wish his business was big enough that I could take more jobs from him, but a crooked lawyer who works alone can only take on so much.
Still, it pisses me off to have this drag out and I’m about ready to snap over his insistence in meeting up in the first place, especially because I’d been planning on making excuses to not attend the meeting.
No matter how much work I do for the Tiger, he refuses to use even the most secure electronic file sharing options I source for him.
It only pisses me off more that, in this case at least, his worries are valid and we both know it.
The Coyote is capable of hacking into government systems and archive files like it’s nothing, the fucking creep.
After some deep breaths, I manage an almost civil reply to him with a time and place at the party. I get everything I collected for him encrypted and loaded onto a portable drive, following his demands perfectly because I’m a professional even when I don’t want to be. Job done, right?
Wrong.
Parties hosted by the Fox happen at the docks on the south side of the city, complete with live music, booze, drugs, solicitation, gambling, fighting rings, and gratuitous violence.
It’s quite literally the highlight of every Mounty’s social calendar; there’s no event over the summer in the Bay bigger than this party, and every Mounty under the age of fifty will be there.
So, naturally, when I tell Harley my solo-in-and-out plan for the drop-off, he looks at me like I’ve got a brain injury.
I push back, stressing that it’ll be faster if I go by myself.
That I don’t want any of the Jackal’s thugs to spot us there together, but he only doubles down.
When he threatens me with a message in the group chat, I cave.
Which is how I find myself glaring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror at eleven at night.
The playsuit I’ve got on is one of my absolute favorites.
It’s backless, and the top is a flowy halter-neck with a deep v.
Like, so deep that you can see my belly button.
The bottom half is short enough that I have to wear a thong so my underwear doesn’t peek out when I move.
It’s sexy without showing too much ass or tits, just little glimpses.
Compared to the other Mounty girls, I’ll look like a freaking Amish girl.
The problem with the outfit is that, with the new-and-improved rack all the food at Hannaford got me, I have to wear some stupid fucking adhesive bra and then tape the front of the playsuit down so I’m not going to have my tits out in the warehouse.
I think that would make Harley have an aneurysm.
With yet another sigh, I snap a photo and send it through to Avery. She answers immediately.
I’m texting Harley and telling him to feed you more. Also, we need to start shopping together. I had no idea your wardrobe had anything but old men’s sweaters and shorts that will haunt those idiot boys’ dreams.
I scoff as I reply,
I only shop at thrift stores, Aves. No way you’re coming to the slums and hitting them up with me.
Good point. You found that in a thrift shop? Honestly, Mounty, I hate you a little bit because you’re a savant at everything. It doesn’t seem fair at all. Also, is there a Chanel version of that or will I have to go couture? I want one.
I snort at her and send her a photo of my back for good measure. She video calls me back.