Page 79 of His Fury

I was in pj’s. The house felt cooler tonight, and I finally wore a pair of the pajamas he had bought me. Long-legged soft pants with a short, capped sleeve and a V-neck matching top, comfy as anything. Slipping out of bed, I padded to the window just in time to see Zayn walking to his SUV, phonepressed to his ear, tension visible in every inch of his posture.

My heart rate picked up.

I didn’t think. I grabbed one of his hoodies off the back of the chair and headed downstairs. Shoving my feet into a pair of sneakers, I opened the front door. He was putting the phone in his pocket as I came outside. I saw Rye already in the driver’s seat.

“Where are you going?”

Zayn turned, his expression unreadable. “Work.”

“At four in the morning?” I wrapped my arms around my body despite the night air being muggy. “Didn’t you just finish work?”

Zayn glanced at the SUV and then turned back to me. “It’s not a meeting I can move.”

“What is it?”

Zayn ignored the question. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Is. Go back to bed.”

I should go back to bed. This was his thing. Hiswork. “Let me come.”

Where the hell did that come from?

Zayn’s jaw tightened. “You don’t need to do this.”

But I did. I knew I did. “You said I’m safe with you.”

He held my gaze, his eyes stormy.

“Prove it.”

I heard a scoff from inside the SUV and was pleased that we both ignored Rye.

Something flickered in Zayn’s eyes. Not annoyance. Something else. Resignation maybe? Or…acceptance? He looked me over. God knew what I looked like, but I saw that old familiar smirk playing about his mouth. When his eyes met mine, they held a challenge.

“Fine,” he said. “But you stay in the car.”

He got in the front seat, and I heard Rye say “Are you crazy?” before Zayn shushed him.

Clambering in the back of the SUV, I tried not to remember the last time I was in the back of this car. My hands were shaky as I pulled the seat belt on, and I successfully avoided eye contact with Rye as I settled back into my seat.

No one spoke. Not for the first ten minutes. The roads blurred past, the threat of sunrise hovering on the horizon. It was a lovely, peaceful morning, or it would be if my stomach wasn’t churning with a mix of dread and curiosity.

I was burning to ask questions. I could feel the weight of them pressing against my throat, ready to be spilled, but I swallowed them back.

Zayn reached up, twisting the rearview mirror to look at me. “This is business,” he told me, his words cool and clipped. “A shipment that needs to be checked.”

“Shipment? Boats?” I asked, immediately feeling stupid and flinching when Rye sighed loudly.

“A delivery,” Zayn confirmed.

“I thought it was a meeting?” My voice sounded small, unsure.

“We need to take her back, Zayn,” Rye murmured. “She isn’t ready for this.”

“You don’t get to make that call,” I snapped, feeling more comfortable in myself as Rye hinted at my naivety. I focused on Zayn. “What’s the delivery of?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Money.”

“Your meeting is about a delivery of money?”

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