Page 40 of The Vigilant

This time, the form instantly processed and opened up to my new account.

A few minutes of toying around and I got the general gist of the setup. Videos could be streamed publicly or privately. For the private ones, I could set up a fee to access them. I could also open up a request box for people to submit something they’d like me to record for them and the fee they’d be willing to pay.

But that wasn’t what I was after right now.

Tapping through the community screens, I found the directory of all the users.

I thought it would take time for me to track down Mara’s handle and figure out who she was interacting with, but she’d made it easy. Too easy.

It was like she was leaving me a breadcrumb to track her down.

Oh Mara, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Nine

Tynan

The body’s response to fear was known as the three Fs. Fight. Flight. Or freeze. Everyone had their own predisposition for one of the three, and neither was right all the time. My natural instinct was always to fight, an instinct that had been trained and strengthened by my time in the military, along with the discipline to know when to walk away or not engage. Usually, I was pretty damn on point when picking which way I faced fear, but four nights ago, standing outside Sutton’s door, I made a catastrophic, cataclysmic error.

First, I’d tried to fight. I’d walked right up to the door and demanded her attention, thinking my presence would get her to stop. Not only had the sounds of her pleasure gotten louder, but the choice to fight had led me into a trap. By the time I realized fighting wasn’t going to work, I’d froze.

I couldn’t walk away.

I couldn’t stop listening.

I couldn’t tear myself from the path of her orgasm any more than one could tear themselves out of the funnel of a tornado.

And it had destroyed me.

Now, I knew when the threat of wanting her was too great, the right choice—the only choice left—was to flee.

“I’ll be back in a little bit.” I wiped dry the last plate and stacked it on the counter.

Sutton shrugged. “Sure.”

I tried to ignore the small smirk she wore whenever we reached this part of the day—the part where I fled the house—rather than risk a repeat of what happened four nights ago.

It was the smart thing to do, I reminded myself. I had work to do back at Sherwood—work I couldn’t exactly do when Sutton was tethered to my side. But I didn’t have much of a choice there either.

We’d fallen into a kind of routine, her and I. The day started with a firm fist on her door once I’d made breakfast. From there, I suffered the feel of her clutching to my back as we rode over to the garage. While I worked on customers’ bikes, I’d given Sutton the task of detailing the ones in the shop.

Of course, I’d made her clean mine first. Twice. That was one memory that brought a smile to my face.

“Here.” I dumped a stack of microfiber towels into her arms.

“What are these for?”

At that moment, her befuddled expression made me unexpectedly grin.

“You’re going to clean my bike.”

“Seriously?”

“Either that or you’re making ramen tonight.”

Her slight frown made me want to promise her a reward I had no business offering.

“That shelf over there has all the cleaning supplies.”

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