Page 11 of Devil's Haunting
“There’s no time.”
It’s the only warning I give as I grip her hand with mine while pulling the gun from the holster underneath my cut with the other. Laiken’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t say anything as I pull her up the stairs behind me. As much as I hate the idea of hauling her closer to danger, I need to have her with me rightnow. The thought of not knowing where she is at all times has my gut pitching and rolling.
“Was there really someone upstairs?” The tremble in Laiken’s voice kills me.
I glance back at her and nod once. My voice is low as we move down the hallway and toward the room, I’m fairly sure the window I was looking into belongs to. “Yes,” I reiterate, “I saw her from outside. She was looking out the window.” The moment I reach the door, I reluctantly let go of Laiken’s hand and grab the knob. With a glance at my woman, I demand, “Stay behind me.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I twist the knob and swing the door open. My eyes scan the room, but nothing is there. This is the room she was in; it has to be.
After making my way across the room and looking out the window, the view only confirms the fact that this was the same window where I saw the woman. But it makes no fucking sense because there’s nothing here.
Well, nothing except a tattered teddy bear and a lot of dust.
It’s clear this room hasn’t been used in an exceptionally long time. Even though I’ve already looked over every corner, I do it again. And once more just to make sure.
When I’m satisfied that nothing is to be found, I turn toward Laiken. I’m sure she can see the confusion and the frustration on my face.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she clears her throat as I tuck my gun back into its holster. “What the hell is going on, Tripp?”
I stalk closer to her and don’t even think twice about hooking my arm around her waist and pulling her flush against my chest. “I don’t know, little Mischief-maker, but I promise I saw a woman in the window over there. She looked like she belonged in a different time, but she was there. I’m sure of it.”
“She’s not here now,” Laiken whispers.
“So, it would seem,” my voice is droll as fuck.
I give her a squeeze before kissing her forehead, unwilling and unable to stop myself. From the way her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, she doesn’t mind all that much.
“Come on,” I prompt her, “lets head back downstairs. I didn’t even grab my bag from the back of my bike.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she grumbles.
I can’t help but smile. Even though I pulled a gun and then dragged her upstairs to investigate what turned out to be nothing, she’s still more than willing to give me shit.
The sooner my woman realizes she’s mine, the better. I’m not going to be able to hold back what I’m feeling forever.
CHAPTER 5
LAIKEN
In the last week, a lot has started to happen around the house. It took Tripp a day to give me an estimate and, honestly, it was a lot lower than I thought it would be. He wasn’t phased at all when I simply glared at him and told him he should redo it.
He shook his head once, his dark eyes boring into mine. “The estimate is accurate,” his tone left no room for argument even though I knew he was full of shit.
“I have plenty of money,” I insisted. “The same great aunt who left me this house left me money. I have a lot of it, more than I need and I think the perfect way to use it is to make this house into the home it was always meant to be.”
He just shrugged and looked at me like I was the one with a listening problem. I knew I wasn’t, but I could also see I was in an argument I had no hope of winning. Not with the most stubborn man this side of the Mississippi.
I swear he could read my mind and knew the moment I gave up arguing with him about it because he flashed me a shit-eating grin. The jerk. Glaring at him did nothing, in fact, I think it turned him on.
Once the estimate was handed to me, Tripp didn’t wait for my approval. He didn’t even give me the chance to pretend to get another opinion or go with another construction company. He dove right in the next day.
Supplies were delivered and the house has been crawling with workers ever since.
Tripp might be lowballing me on the estimate, for some fucking reason, but he can’t prevent me from making sure every worker on my property is well hydrated. I’ve had massive stocks of drinks delivered to ensure everyone who works on this house can drink when needed.
While the work has started downstairs and outside, I’ve been spending time every day going room by room and checking out everything that has been left behind. Most of it is trash, and there’s no way to get around it. I’m not keeping some random doll arm which has been collecting dust for who the fuck knows how long.
Rotted bed frames don’t need to stick around. As much as I might like the antiques in the house, if they’re too far gone, I know they aren’t worth saving. A lot of them aren’t my style anyway and if I’m dumping money and effort into the house, I want it to be a place where I can feel at home.
