Page 41 of The Vigilant

“Really? No Mr. Miyagi wax on, wax off lesson?”

“You’re not a kid. You can figure it out.” The words were out before I could stop them. Before I could think of better ones. Before I didn’t give voice to the thoughts that plagued me likean anchor around my waist, pulling me down into the dark depths of my forbidden attraction to her.

When she finished washing the bike, I pointed out all the spots that were still smudged and told her to do it again. After that, she had to clean and polish the wheels. Then condition the leather.

“This is a waste of time, Tynan,” she’d declared at the end of the day, tossing the towel in her hand to the ground.

I rested my hands on the Harley I’d just finished tuning up the engine on and leaned toward her.

“Never a waste of time to make sure you’re acting right,” I warned. “Recklessness is a perilous fault to success.”

“It’s a waste when my best friend—my only family—could be in danger.”

“And what good will it do to find her if you get yourself killed in the process?”

That bought me her silence, which most times felt more dangerous than her protests. And that was why I kept to a routine that kept her by my side. At the shop. Then back at the house, where she’d disappear into her room until dinner was ready.

And then I’d leave.

Like now.

“You sure you don’t want to stick around?” Her arched brow was nothing more than a perfectly crafted taunt.

What happened the other night lingered like carbon monoxide in the air. Odorless. Tasteless. Unsuspecting. Until the memory of her pleasuring herself not-so-quietly even as I knocked on the door and then coming with my name on her lips. Well, that was the kind of poison that could easily kill me if I breathed it in too deep.

So, I did my best not to. I gave myself a single, deadly dose during my few hours alone at the garage while taking a violentlycold shower with my raging cock in my hand. I pretended like it was the antidote. And for a little bit after, it was. I could work on Vigilante shit without distraction.

But inevitably, I’d return to the townhouse to spend one more shitty night of sleep on the damn couch.

“I’m sure,” I said, gritting my teeth and heading for the door.

“Hello?” I answered Creed’s call within a nanosecond of my phone ringing.

“I’m on my way to you.”

“To Sherwood?” I sat forward at my desk and rubbed my eyes. “Did you find Mara?”

“Not yet, but I found something. Figured we should talk in person.”

My chest tightened. That couldn’t be good. “Of course.”

“I’m fifteen minutes out.”

“See you then.”

No sooner had I hung up the phone when the door to my office opened.

“Ty?” Harm leaned through the doorway. “Wasn’t sure if you were here.”

“Yeah. Got work to do.” I cracked my knuckles. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see Rob.”

I nodded, having noticed her Mercedes parked outside when I got back to the garage.

“How long is she staying?”

It was never more than a few days. Like coming up for air, Robyn DuBois never surfaced for too long before disappearing back to the depths of her network in San Francisco.

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