Page 17 of The Hunted

Once we finish drying ourselves, I pull her by her hand and lead her to my bedroom. I toss back the covers and point to the bed. She glances at me with trepidation and chews on that bottom lip as I watch her mind work through hundreds of thoughts, most likely including why getting in bed with me is a bad idea, but despite any reluctance she may have, she climbs in.

Who would have thought seeing a woman in my bed would have my heart thundering harder than putting a bullet in someone?

I slip in beside her and pull the covers over us. She doesn’t move to me, so I tug her into my side, her head resting against my chest. It takes a moment, but she relaxes into me. I tuck the covers in around her and her soft, warm breath fans across my chest. It’s a soothing balm to everything awful and dark in my world. It’s a first for me but being with her is comfortable even if this is arranged. It’s like this is where she’s meant to be, in my bed, by my side. The way she seems to fit, her soft against my hard. This feels right, maybe too right. This almost seems like it could be a set-up, or worse… love.

I brush away the thoughts as quickly as they come. I’m just lonely. That’s it. This last assignment, I spent so much time isolated, it’s bound to make any companionship seem like bliss.

Those thoughts play in and out of my mind as I stroke her hair, and soon, her breaths even out, and I know she’s asleep. I disentangle myself from her and tuck her back in before making my way to my office across the hall. My laptop whirs to life, and I pull up all the information I have on her in my files. None of it is new. I’ve stared at the same words a hundred times before, trying to work out her angle.

The paragraph about her sister’s disappearance stands out now more than it ever has. It’s the only piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit into her neat, middle-class world. I need to make a call to get more information.

I step out of my office and head for the balcony. Once the door is shut behind me, I inhale a breath of the cool night air and dial a number I’ve called a thousand times before.

“Hello, Bane. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Marcia purrs on the other end of the line.

“Marcia. I need info on Raven Wyatt, 28, from Silver Lake, Tennessee. Her sister, who is currently missing, Scarlett Wyatt, 21, from the same locale. I need this information as soon as possible. Make this a priority.”

“I’ll get the information as soon as I can.”

“You have twenty-four hours. Tick-tock, darlin’.”

I end the call and head back to my bedroom and the mysterious woman in my bed. From the doorway, I admire her sleeping form. The dip of her hip under the blanket, perfect for my hands to grip. Her hair spread out on my sheets, that now carry her scent. Fucking perfect. I watch her body rise and fall with her steady, sweet breath for a moment before I make my way across the room to join her. As soon as I slip under the covers, she curls into my side with a moan, never waking, and her arm comes over my chest.

She needs my help. Whether she admits what’s really going on or not. I’ll do everything in my power to get her what she needs.

That’s my final thought as I trace lazy circles on her arm until I fall asleep.

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