Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
“You let him touch you?” I clarify, already burning with questions that are going to have to wait until she’s not intoxicated.
She bites down on her lip and looks at me with such guilt it’s almost heartbreaking. “I thought it might have been you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Harper. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I demand, suddenly understanding what the fuck happened to her underwear.
Her bottom lip quivers, and I immediately feel like an ass. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I tell her. “But I’m not this guy. I’m not him, and he sure as fuck will hurt you, Harper. You can’t let this happen. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen this? It never ends well.”
She rolls her tongue over her bottom lip and glances away, her tone lowering to almost a whisper. “But I liked it.”
I blow out a heavy breath, having no fucking idea how I’m supposed to navigate this. All I know is that this situation is escalating, and sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants from her, assuming he hasn’t already had enough, but when he does, he’ll end her life.
“Come on,” I say, “get in the truck. I’m taking you back to my place where I can keep an eye on you, and in the morning, we’re going to talk about this.”
Harper groans and lets out a heavy sigh, but thankfully wanders her ass around to the other side of my truck and climbs in. I reluctantly get in as well, and the moment I turn on the truck, Izzy falls asleep in the backseat, her soft snores filling the cab.
Just fucking great.
It’s a short drive back to my place, and yet the heavy silence makes every passing second feel as though it’s dragging on. Harper doesn’t say a word the whole drive, and I keep my mouth shut, trying not to rip into her about allowing this asshole to put his hands on her.
There’s got to be more to this story. Harper-Rayn is a smart girl. I don’t believe that she’d just willingly let this happen, no matter how good she thinks it’s going to be. Not even if she truly thought it was me.
By the time we reach my home, there’s no waking Izzy, and I have no choice but to haul her over my shoulder. As Harper gets to her feet and tries to walk, it’s clear that this isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
Harper squeals as I toss her over my other shoulder and stride into my home. If I’m lucky, my neighbors aren’t watching me bring two intoxicated women into my home. I can only imagine how this looks.
Taking them down to my spare room, I put the girls on the bed, and Harper immediately crawls across the sheets, helping take off Izzy’s shoes. Once she has the blanket pulled up to her chin, Harper gets to her feet and wobbles across the room, disappearing into the bathroom. She emerges a few minutes later with her hair down and most of her makeup scrubbed off.
Her outfit smells like a bar, and I get her yet another shirt before leaving her to it and getting myself ready for bed. I go to the bathroom and wash my face before standing at the sink, bracing my hands against the cool porcelain and wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
I can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. I don’t need to protect her from her stalker, I need to protect her from herself.
Finishing up in the bathroom, I peel my shirt off and make my way to bed, but when I tug the blankets back, Harper is already curled up inside them. I stand and watch her for just a moment, hating how much I like her there. Knowing this will complicate things for me so much more, I climb in behind her and pull her straight into my arms, letting her curl up on my chest, and hoping like fuck I don’t fall in love with this girl.
21
HARPER-RAYN
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It’s my first night shift of the week, and so far, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid Knight Slater like the plague. Yesterday morning, I woke up in his bed with his arms locked around me, and for just a moment, I never wanted to leave, but then the memories of Saturday night rushed back, as did all the words I said to him outside his truck.
Like I said, stupid.
I just had to go and open my big mouth, but I was so certain that it was him, despite the whole don’t call me by another man’s name shit that the stalker decided to almost suffocate me over. So I suppose maybe it isn’t Knight after all.
There are too many coincidences. The night the body showed up in the morgue, I drove like a maniac to Knight’s place, but he had only just gotten home. If it were him, he could have absolutely beaten me back to his place. Not to mention the night I was locked in the refrigeration unit. I went straight to his place, and again, he was only just getting home. Both times he was out. Though I know we technically cleared up the whole refrigeration unit mishap, and it wasn’t the stalker at all, but if it were, Knight absolutely could have been a suspect.