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“If you expect me to complain, I won’t. I approve and so would my father. He made me learn to shoot, and I carry.”
“Do you now?”
“Yes. I do. I should never have left without my purse or my Baby Glock.”
It’s not the weapon I’d choose for her, but we’ll deal with that another time. She’s carrying, and that could be a good thing or a bad thing. Weapons can be used against you if you don’t handle them correctly. “How often do you practice using it?”
“Not as often as I should.” She shivers. “My coat is in the car. We need to go inside.”
I catch her hand in mine and start walking toward the house, and then dig her keys from my pocket to quickly turn the locks and shove open the door. “Your castle awaits.”
She shivers again, but holds her position, nervous to enter her own safe place. I pull her in front of me, my body cradling hers. “You have me, remember? You’re safe, and as a bonus, Walker hasa man watching the house.” I nuzzle her ear. “I got you, Harper, and one day you’ll know that.”
She darts away with those words, grabs her phone from the island, and then turns to face me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I shut the door and lock it before giving her my full attention. “I never make a promise I can’t keep.”
“Actually, I said don’t make promises, but I don’t think you’ve really made any. And forget any of that just came out of my mouth. I’m rattled and I’m not proud of it, either. My room is upstairs.” She turns away and starts walking down the hallway.
I don’t stop her. I follow. Her room and her bed seem like the perfect place to finish this conversation.
Chapter thirty-five
Eric
My first look at Harper’s bedroom comes as I pause in the doorway and scan the room as gray and curiously masculine as her living room, but for the slice of femininity represented by the red pillows and red lampshades offer. I have a strong opinion on why, too. I spent years of my life being molded to a specific way the Kingstons live, dress—hell even eat and even breathe. She’s living in a Kingston, male-dominated world, barely holding onto herself. If I hadn’t shed their hold on me when I did and entered the Navy, I don’t know what I’d have become. She needs the same kind of cleansing, but it won’t take a trip around the world with the Navy. She has me.
She steps to the side of the bed and sets her phone on the nightstand as if she just needs something to do with herself. I toss my bag on a chair, remove my gun and stick it inside the bag, and then shrug out of my coat, dropping it on top of the rest of my things. When I turn to face Harper, she’s still standing by the bed, staring at me, and her energy vibes like downstairs. She’s still in whatever mindset drove her to blurt out that comment about promises never being made. Which is obviously about this tug of war of hate and lust, and everything else we aren’t ready to talk about.
I amble her direction, and stop just in front of her, but I don’t touch her, not yet. I give her room to set the tone, to show me what she wants. “I am glad you’re here,” she says. “That’s all. I just want you to know that whatever else happens, I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to use the bathroom to change now.” She cuts her gaze and tries to move away.
I catch her arm and walk her in closer. “Me, too, Harper. Me fucking, too. Why don’t you understand that? I didn’t come to help you. I came because I couldn’t leave you alone. I didn’t have it inme. If I had my way, I’d take you and your mother the hell out of here, and we’d leave Isaac to burn in hell on his own.”
“She won’t leave. She won’t, Eric.”
“Get her to,” I say. “Convince her that staying is dangerous.”
“Is it?”
“Dangerous enough for me to urge you toward an exit strategy and I’m that strategy. I’m your ticket out of here.”
“I don’t want you to be my ticket anywhere. Just like you didn’t want your father to be your ticket. That’s not what you are to me.”
“I’m not offering. I’minsistingyou use me.” My eyes twinkle. “Any way you see fit.”
“Eric,” she breathes out, her serious mood not yet dissuaded. “I can’t leave. I could have access to information we need.”
“Blake has everything you could have and more at his fingertips.”
“There’s value to in-person, physical presence to investigate, especially when my mom’s name is on the line.”
“She’s not a strong person,” I say. “You are. Get her out,” I repeat.
“How? How do I do that? I have nothing but my suspicions to support an argument for her to leave, and that’s not enough. She’s afraid to be without your father.”
“But does she love him?”
“No. I don’t think so. No. I know she doesn’t. She doesn’t act at all with him like she did with my father.”
