Page 58 of Midnight Racers

I didn’t agree or disagree, but I liked the sound of being included in her family, even if it left me unsettled.

Since Pixie liked to lounge in the sun all day and sleep, we put her in my conservatory to the side of the house, locking her in with our hoodies and all her “essentials.” She needed her bed, her igloo to sleep in, her kitty litter, her box of toys, her food dishes, her favourite blanket to spread on the sofa, and her scratching post.

Charlotte cooed and fussed over her until she settled herself on her fat ass and watched us leaving.

“Bed,” I said when Charlotte yawned.

“Does everything go back to normal if we go to sleep? Will those men come back to life?”

My hands rested on her hips to tug her against me. “I wish all of that was true, but we both know that by tomorrow there will be a bigger problem waiting for us. I’ll get extra security at the factory and Jordan will probably go and wring Dale’s scrawny neck.”

She leaned back to stare up at me. “Why Dale?”

I groaned and released her to rub the back of my neck. “Charlotte, those men were business associates of your brother. He wanted whatever you had designed for his car and from the looks of tonight was happy to terrorise you to get it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that. Dale is my brother.”

“There were messages on one of their phones from Dale,” I replied. “I’m only telling you because if he tries to get in touch with you, I want you to ignore him. Let me deal with this situation.”

Something fractured behind her eyes, an innocence that could never be replaced. “He’s my brother.”

“Certified asshole.” I used her words from earlier and a small smile touched her lips.

“No killing my brother.” She pointed at me and gave me her stern stare that made her look like an angry kitten.

“I’ll do my best, but accidents happen, and no body, no proof.” I shrugged.

“Flynn!”

I was entirely unrepentant as I grinned at her scandalised expression, lifting her under her ass and carrying her toward the staircase that led to the bedrooms. Everything in this house felt basic after living in her home with all the female frilliness and explosions of colour.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I said, throwing her on the bed.

Now that we had arrived, exhaustion started to crawl over me, weakening all my muscles as it tried to lure me to sleep. She pulled her trainers off and dropped them beside the bed, crawling into bed in her yoga pants and sweatshirt. I couldn’t sleep with my clothes on, so I dumped mine on the floor before clambering in behind her.

I would never admit to how good it felt falling asleep with her in my arms.

She was fast becoming a weak link in my armour, and a man like me couldn’t afford that.

The scent of her shampoo invaded my senses, her hand grabbing mine to wrap my arm around her as we spooned together.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Charlotte whispered. “No one ever does that.”

Emotions warred inside me. I wanted to run away, as I didn’t do relationships, but at the same time I wanted to stay here forever and forget about the world, and the shit going on out there. She made me crave things that I swore I would never have, and that was dangerous.

“You’re mine,” I replied, pressing a kiss to the side of her throat. “I would happily kill anyone who threatens you.”

“That’s either incredibly romantic or completely psychotic,” she muttered, her voice low and husky as she fought sleep.

“Maybe a little bit of both.”

“Hmmm,” she said with a deep, breathless tone that resonated back into my chest. “My very own psycho.”

That wasn’t what most women wanted from the men in their lives. The normal were flowers, chocolate, and affection. Charlotte hadn’t received any of those things from me. She tugged my arm until our hands lay joined on her stomach, her head resting under my chin.

What the fuck was I supposed to do with this situation?

I brought her here to keep her safe, and now I didn’t know how to react to someone in the one place I kept hidden from the world. There were times I felt like Mr. Rochester stuck in the barren and forsaken place, only the demons were in my head instead of the attic.

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