Page 61 of Lock Up the Darkness

Aurora: I’ll be there.

Asher: Very good.

I locked my phone and glared at it.

Don’t make me live to regret it, asshole.

15

~Aurora~

Even in the daylight, Hexwood House possessed one hell of a creep factor.

Not to mention the fact that it was set back from all else, away from the rest of the town and any witnesses. Any help. Anything that happened here, that happened to anyone here would go completely unnoticed. For goodness sake, they could bury bodies in the expansive gardens and the woods surrounding the place and nobody would know.

I blinked hard and forced those thoughts down as I idled on my Harley waiting on Security to open the mighty gates safeguarding the mansion.

I’d barely been stopped for two minutes when the guy in the box to the left signaled the other in the one opposite, and the gates began to open with an unsettling grating sound.

They waved me on through, then I rode in carefully into the courtyard.

I brought my bike to a stop, parked a couple of spots from the main house, then dismounted. I pulled a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of my hoodie, then fired up a smoke. While I needed the centering effect of the nicotine, it was also an opportunity I was using to scan the area to ensure there were no signs of suspicious activity around the exterior that could point to anything untoward taking place within.

Rationally, it didn’t make any logical sense for Asher to set me up.

But as far as I was concerned, there was no such thing as being too careful when it came to dealing with the Infidels.

The crunch of footsteps had me pausing mid-drag, and spinning around.

And there was Killian coming around from that little workshop near the far rear of the house, walking his Harley around to the courtyard.

He wasn’t wearing one of his hoodies, I could see a leather jacket slung over the seat of the bike instead. His biceps were on full display in a rather snug white muscle tee and they bunched and flexed while he pulled the bike along. I could even see his stone carved abs rippling as he moved. A pair of distressed blue jeans were tucked into a pair of motorcycle boots that were not unlike mine.

He lifted his head and our eyes met.

I braced myself, expecting that usual animosity coupled with some aggressive, almost violent sexual tension to be fired my way.

But then his lips lifted into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I responded cautiously.

As he reached me, he stabilized the bike, setting it beside mine, then gestured the length of it. “Looks better than new, huh?”

I studied it, the work that had been done, the insane level of detailing, the artwork of the flames. “Jonah really pulled out all the stops.”

“Who knew you vandalizing my pride and joy would turn out to be a good thing?” he mused, snatching up his jacket and shrugging it on. “In more than one way.”

The pointedness of his comment wasn’t lost on me.

Neither was his gaze raking over every inch of me.

My hair pulled up out of my face in a high ponytail, down to my black sports bra visible beneath my half done up hoodie of the same color, then down to my black yoga pants.

“Nice boots.”

“Right back at you.”

“You look… different like that.”

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