Page 36 of Marked

She finished her shift at the bar two hours ago, and has been asleep for the past hour. It’s a wonder she falls asleep so quickly. The moment her eyes close, her breathing evens out and she’s off to dreamland.

Tonight, I’m hoping it’s all good dreams. But after what she came up with today, I’m not sure that’s going to happen.

Jeff hasn’t gotten back to me yet with what I want to know, but I can’t be too pissed at him. He’s got his ownwork to keep him busy, plus the bastard went and got married after he retired.

Looking at Harley, sleeping so soundly, I wonder if hewasn’tcompletely off his rocker getting hitched. There’s a profound innocence to her that I crave to protect, to keep locked up for myself, but it’s more than that. Her strength is buried just below the surface, and I want to scratch until it emerges.

She survived the horrors of being kidnapped with her sister and mother and chained up for days. And while I can sense the guilt in her, for being the one who walked out of that place, she’s never taken a single day for granted.

The woman has every reason to hide from the rest of the world, but she faces it every day. She may hate being around people, but I’ve met a lot of fucking people and she’s not missing anything. But becoming a teacher? Being responsible for the education of a little kids, and being protective of her mother? She’s got more grit than she thinks.

A click echoes in the deep silence, and I sit up in the chair. I check the windows in the bedroom—nothing there. Quietly, I stand up. Barefoot, I make no sound as I make my way through the apartment.

Another click stops me in the living room.

The deadbolt is being fucked with. I move to the side of the door, pulling my gun from my waistband.

I press my back against the wall, flush with the door. The bolt slides out of place and the door is shoved open.

The piss poor excuse for a chain lock actually keeps the door from opening all the way, but the fucker came prepared. A bolt-cutter slips through the opening and cuts the chain away.

I do one more check on the bedroom. She’s still inside. The door’s shut.

I pull back the slide on my Glock.

As the door opens, I slow my breath, waiting for the asshole to enter.

If it’s the agent herself, she’s going to be in a lot of fucking pain before I fucking kill her. I wouldn’t mind being wrong.

Just this once.

But if I’m right, this isn’t a wellness check.

The intruder is inside; he creeps into the living room. He’s in head-to-toe black. Even his eyes are covered with a sheer covering.

As he steps inside, he looks around the room. All the lights are off. The window curtains are shut so the streetlights can’t give him any advantage.

I lift my gun, pointing it at the back of his head. With a hard kick, I shove the door shut and it slams.

He freezes.

“Don’t fucking move.” But of course, the fucker isn’t going to listen.

He flips around on me, spinning on his heel. Just as he faces me, I kick out, knocking his gun from his left hand.

“Fuck!” He launches at me, but I’m not new to a little hand-to-hand. I let him come at me. His shoulder hits my stomach, but I brace for it. Leaning over just enough, I wrap my arm around his torso, keeping him pinned in the bent over position as I run him through the apartment.

He trips on his own feet, and I let him fall to the floor on his back.

“Who the fuck are you?” I point my weapon at his face.

“Fuck you.” He sneers up at me.

“All right then.” I keep my gun trained on him while I step over him, opening the small box I left on the table, and taking out the injection I prepared.

A swift kick to his ribs keeps him down when he tries to get to his feet.

I throw my knee into his stomach as I kneel on him. Using my teeth, I yank off the cap of theneedle.

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