Page 133 of His Pretty Little Duet

Her eyes fly open.

My good girl doesn't pull her hand from my grip, only glances down at the small bubble of crimson fluid pooling at the tiny puncture site. "It's okay, sweet girl. I'm just testing your LH hormone."

I put her finger between my lips, sucking the small bead of blood into my mouth and then kiss the pinprick softly. A hint of concern washes over her, so I add, "I need to know everything about you. I know nothing about the inner workings of a young girl's mind, and I want to understand your moods.Rather, I want toanticipatethem."

"I want," she murmurs, unable to fight the pull of sleep, willing to trust me, her eyes close during a slow nod of acceptance, "a kitten."

Fuck me. A kitten?This is not the house for a kitten. It would be just as lost as my little deer in this cavernous estate. I imagine this request will elapse tomorrow.

I breathe out hard as I watch over her, from her slender neck to the small divot between her collarbone, her shoulders and arms, her hair thick and blonde like a Barbie doll.

I clench my teeth, wincing through the pain in my chest. I rub at the ache, never having felt anything vaguely this intense or… volatile. Like I could go from calm to feral in a second for her, and—that's dangerously out of character.

Just as lost as her…

Darting my eyes to the implement fisted in my hand, 45 mlU/ml displays at me in blue on the viewing panel. According to the blood tests taken during her stay in hospital a few weeks ago, that is well above what it was. She'll be ovulating soon. Perhaps now. Perhaps tomorrow…

The baby. The cooking. The pillow stacks. It all gave her meaning. A reason to get up in the morning.

Maybe a cat then…

I look back at her slumber-settled complexion. Sliding my palm down until I'm pressing it to the concave between her hipbones, my chest tightens.Empty.

Christ.

I rise to my feet. Walking from the room, I make sure to shut the door, holding the handle for a moment of hesitation. Leaving her again is utterly unnatural now, not unlike severing a limb.

In my mind, for only a second, I quickly remove any flitter of sentiment that may be active across my face as I notice Bolton. He's stationed a few metres away. I nod at him, saying, "Whenever you don’t have eyes on her, when she goes to ourroom or the bathroom, I want you to page me immediately so I’m aware no one has eyes on her."

"No privacy for the girl, then, Boss?"

I glare at him, and he swallows, seemingly wishing the fucking question back down his throat. "I mean?—"

I stride down the hallway, and his explanation halts at my dismissal. He cares about her, so I let it slide, but he best not misplace his concern, his sense of responsibility, for some kind of rights to her. No one has a right to her. She is mine. In every damn sense. There isn’t a fucker alive I need to share her with—not a father or mother or sibling, and I'm insatiable with her, so this pleases me to no end.

The halls are quiet, so when my phone rings from within my pocket, I scowl, the sound loud enough to have followed my trail back to our bedroom. Loud enough to wake her.

I dig it out, noting the nameJohnand fisting it tightly, barking down the receiver, "Butcher."

My new solider—recruited from the boxing gym—at the warehouse answers frantically, "The fuckin' warehouse was just broken into, Boss! I tried to see the men, but there is still fucking smoke everywhere. They smashed the windows, came through the sides, but I couldn't see ‘em. I shot at someone. Think I hit ‘em. But now the jacks are on their way here. I can hear the sirens. The road in is still black with smoke, so I can’t see a damn thing comin',"

Heat builds through my head. "Who called the police?"

"Neighbours. The boat yard, maybe?"

"I doubt it," I muse more to myself than to him. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah. But all the guns, all the weapons are still here. They didn't take nothin'. I've been tryin' to stash them?—"

"Don't stash them. The fire is still burning through the North national forest, so light the entire warehouse up and get out of there. They’ll presume the fire jumped.”

He pauses. "What?"

I rub my forehead, repeating myself, "Check the area. Check no one is inside. Then light it up. I'll talk to the Forensic Fire Marshal tomorrow; just don't be seen leaving."

"The weapons?—"

"Will be unsalvageable," I confirm.

---