“I don’t know.” I glance back down at her to find her still on her knees, staring up at me. “I need to get Kit home first. I can’t leave you or the egg. Not now. Then we’ll have to figure out a hotel, a rental house, something.”
“Yeah,” she agrees miserably. Her eyes go distant. “What if I just come with you?” she asks suddenly. “It’s closer and we’d be together. I doubt anyone knows where you live, at least not yet. You said we had to move, right?”
“It has to be somewheresecure.I take precautions at home. Got a basic Home Shepherd system installed, but hell, it’s not up to par for this.”
“Sounds overrated. All the fancy cameras and systems didn’t stop those guys from trying to break in. The vault could’ve slowed them down, yeah, but if they came after us instead for the codes…” She stands, rocking back on her heels. I’ve never seen her look so serious. “Wouldn’t it be better to go somewhere they don’t know about?”
I want to argue against it, but there’s no good counter when she’s right.
The crew that came after us knew about Leonidas Blackthorn’s main property, but that doesn’t mean they know about mine.
Also, it’s an old house in a dense neighborhood. Harder to stage a hard break-in without somebody else noticing.
Plus, I’ve deliberately kept my details hidden, out of public records as much as I can.
It would also save Kit from my mom’s subpar cooking. I hate that she still puts the effort in and too many meals turn out like crap.
Cleo sees me give in before I know it.
“Okay.” She smiles and nods politely. “I’ll go check on Kit and get packed too. Look after that knee, Holden Verity.”
Then she’s gone, sailing out of the bathroom.
I watch the switch and swish of her hips, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
15
CROWN JEWEL (CLEO)
Before I can blink, I’m spirited away to a calmer place.
Charming old Portland streets filled with coastal art, quiet, and quaint shops melt my dark reality.
Logically, I know a few hours have passed. Hours where we prepped to leave the house with heavy hearts and unspoken tension.
Hours where we wondered if we’ll really be much safer at his place, without anyone daring to ask the question out loud.
Now that I’m away from Gramps’ old house, I can breathe.
And breathing feels so easy when I see where Holden lives. It’s not what I expected, this charmingly classic New England-style house. All dark-blue slats and white shutters. He even has a freaking weathervane on his roof shaped like a whale.
There’s a neat lawn out front and a little path winding up through a couple basic gardening boxes to a cozy porch that looks like it belongs on a postcard.
The vibe, the normalcy, it eases the lead weight in my heart even as it scatters butterflies through my belly.
Home. For now. Holden’shouse.
He glances over at me from behind the wheel.
We drove here in near silence. I don’t think Kit ever went back to sleep after the insanity this morning. She’s drowsily strapped into the back, listening to an audiobook on her phone with earbuds.
We haven’t said much since I cleaned up his knee.
God, the bathroom.
I try to banish the diabolical images in my head. The bulge in his boxers, the way he bowed up and growled while I dressed his wound.
Not sexy, not sexy.
