Page 25 of Corpse Roads

“You’ve seen the marks,” Hunter points out. “She bears the same scars that every dumped body had. Only they’re old, healed. Why didn’t he kill her as well?”

None of us has an answer. We’ve all suffered through studying the photographs of Harlow’s body in further detail. The harrowing scars on her body match our morgue of dead bodies perfectly.

We had further analysis performed by forensics. Down to the symbolism of the Holy Trinity carved into Harlow, the knife patterns matched to a high degree. It was likely the same blade used.

“I’m not here to draw conclusions.” Richards stares at Hunter. “I shall leave that to your team. Harlow is my patient now. I am more concerned for her mental stability.”

“Should we be worried?” I frown at him. “Are we safe to move her?”

“I believe there is some cause for concern. Re-introducing Harlow to society needs to be handled with the utmost delicacy. That’s why I’m not recommending an inpatient stay.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“She needs to feel safe, supported,” Richards outlines. “Isolating her in a hospital could exacerbate her symptoms and lead to further dissociation.”

I cut Hunter a sharp look. He still won’t admit that I’m right, despite the heated argument we had on the drive over. This safe house is a terrible fucking idea.

Ignoring me, he stares down at his phone. “She’ll have a full team for security. I’ll see to it that regular visits with yourself are arranged. We have questions that need answering, doc. I would appreciate your help.”

“Harlow’s been through something horrific,” Richards says emphatically. “This needs to be handled with extreme care. That doesn’t involve sticking her in some faceless apartment with a team of spooks.”

I knew he’d be on my side. Richards is the best in the business. This is exactly why we pay him the big bucks to consult for us.

“So, what do we do with her then?” Hunter snaps.

Pulling a colourful scarf on, Richards inclines his head. “I trust you to think of the right thing. Set up a regular therapy slot for her with my secretary. I’ll await your updates on her living arrangement.”

Once Richards has breezed from the ward, Hunter’s head falls into his hands. His long hair is in a bun today, exposing the thick muscles of his neck and the beginnings of his chest tattoo peeking under his shirt collar. I give him a moment to gather himself.

The distance between myself and Harlow’s room feels like a whole goddamn ocean. I want nothing more than to stand between her and the rest of the world, whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Christ, this is bad.

We’re in seriously hot water.

“This is turning into a clusterfuck.” Hunter reads my mind with a sigh. “Clearly, the safe house isn’t a good idea.”

“Let’s take her back to HQ. We can go from there.”

Hunter nods. “Go get her.”

Heading for Harlow’s hospital room, I slide my best emotionless mask into place. I need to get my shields up before she worms her way any further under my skin.

She’s our responsibility, but not one of us. The sooner I realise that, the better. Rapping on the door, I peek inside and find her bed deserted.

Reaching for my gun holster, I’m ready to tear the hospital apart to find her when the sound of running water draws my attention. Entering the room, I remain poised, ready to pounce.

A familiar pair of slender legs stands stiff before a mirror in the corner. Breathing hard, I force myself to relax. She’s here.

“Harlow?”

She slowly turns around and her wide, cerulean eyes meet mine. Her right hand is tugging a nest of impossibly long hair over her shoulder, while her broken left arm is strapped to her chest.

“What are you up to?” I ask suspiciously.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Considering a haircut.”

Inching into the room, I stop behind her. I can feel her body heat in the tiny gap between us. Another step, and her small, pert ass would be pressed right up against me.

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