Page 74 of The Shadows We Keep

I scoff. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I can handle myself just fine. I’m not sure where you got this idea that I need to be handled with kid gloves and protected. But I promise you, it’s unnecessary.”

His body swells toward mine, his bloodied hands encase my knees. As morbid as it might be, the droplets and smears look artistically beautiful against his black ink.

“Oh, trust me, I noticed the moment you walked in the room, looking like a winterized Lara Croft. Want to tell me where you learned to shoot like that?”

A small smile tugs at my lips as my memories of Stan flicker into my head. “You really want to do this now? With everything going on?”

He doesn’t answer, just waits for me to continue.

“Fine. So, you know about my mom and the girls group home after that. Well, I didn’t last there long. Things happened, and I’d had enough. One night, I packed what little I had with me and left. Snuck out through the back door and never looked back.” His body relaxes against the couch as my story continues.

“I don’t know how long I walked for, or where I was going. I was nine by that time. A scrawny little thing—if you can imagine.” I say sarcastically. “By the time nightfall had come, my feet were tired and covered in blisters. I knew I needed to get off the street. It was the tail end of summer, so while the days were still nice, the nights were getting colder. I found an old greenhouse to bunker down in for the night. Not knowing who it belonged to, but I didn’t have any other choice.” I take a deep breath, realizing this is the first time I’ve ever told this story to anyone. “I woke in the morning to a screeching scream. An older woman, Rita, prodding me with the edge of her gardening shoe. When I finally came to, rolling in her direction, her wailing stopped but not before her husband, Stan, had come out with a shotgun.” I laugh at the memory. The look on her face had been utter disbelief. I’d found out she’d only come out to the greenhouse to grab herbs for breakfast, she never expected to find me.

I continue, “Stan and Rita, we’re in their late seventies. They’d never had children, though Rita desperately wanted them. But the war left Stan with an injury that kept them from getting pregnant. So, when I essentially ended up on their doorstep, little orphan Annie, Rita finally got what she wanted, only fifty years later.”

“They took you in?” Harkin asks quietly.

“Yeah, they never once made me think they were going to turn me back over to child services. Though, I think that had more to do with my nightmares then them wanting the responsibility of raising a child in their later years. They told everyone in the neighborhood, I was a long-lost relative’s surviving kin that needed a home after a terrible accident. That was only a partial lie for me. Because I didn’t have any paperwork, no social security card, medical records, nothing, Rita home schooled me.”

“Do you still see them?”

I quiet at his question, my heart pinching at the truth. “No, they passed when I was fifteen.” The melancholy quickly swallows me whole as I remember the few good years, I had with them. From nine to fifteen, I had a safe place to lay my head at night. A warm meal to eat. The equivalent of what I always imagined it’d be like to have loving grandparents.

“Anyway.” I clear my throat of the emotions clawing their way out from the depths.

“Is that how you learned to shoot?” Harkin asks again.

“Oh, right! Yeah, Stan had been in the Army and unlike a lot of the men in his generation, when he got back, he didn’t become a peace trailblazer. He stuck to what he knew, which meant he had quite the collection of firearms. When it looked like I’d be staying with them, he made sure I knew how to keep myself safe from them. But on my thirteenth birthday, he’d decided I was old enough to learn how to handle them. He spent the next two years, until he got sick, teaching me everything I needed to know about them. Once they were gone, I smuggled a couple out before their extended family could get their grimy hands on them and left. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think to get ammo on the streets. Money talks when you know where to look.”

I’ve just dumped so much information on him. He sits in front of me; stunned. And then, I realize I’ve shared more with Harkin in the last month then I’ve ever shared with anyone. He disarms me; easily pulling bricks free from my self-erected barrier. Razing it to the ground.

I shake my head, clearing the walk down memory lane and focusing on our current situation. We still don’t know what these men want from me. Why they want to find me so badly. And now we’ve ruined our only in by killing off two people within their network. If they were desperate to find me before, they’ll be gunning for both of us now.

“We should get out of town for a while.” Harkin finally breaks the silence.

“What? I can’t just leave the city. I know you’ve planted me into your little bubble of fancy apartments and everything, but I’m not about to become some kept woman to a man I don’t even know what to call.”

His eyebrow quirks in confusion, “What do you mean? Don’t know what to call.”

“Harkin, what the hell are we. We haven’t even known each other two months, yet we live together. Are we roommates?” His face sours at my question. His hand quickly wrapping around my waist and tugging me across the space between us, before settling me to straddle his body.

“Now, where would you get the idea that we’re just roommates?” His eyes dance with mischief, the air thickening around us with tension from the day. But that’s not it. With our bodies so close, I automatically heat toward him. The flame sparked the moment his skin grazed mine in the most innocent way. I don’t answer his question because I’m so lost in what to label this thing between us.

“I thought I’d made it pretty damn clear. You. Are. Mine. You can call us whatever you need to but know we’re together, and anyone, including you, that puts that in jeopardy, will be sorry.”

My breath hitches at his declaration. There was no hesitation as he claimed me with his words; the way only his body has done before. That fact alone, has my pussy weeping and clenching with need. His hand tightens against my throat as my core brushes shamelessly against his crotch.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up?” he asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, before he’s hoisting me into his arms and heading straight down the hall for the master bathroom.

THIRTY-ONE

HARKIN

Nails – Call Me Karizma

What are we?

Her question runs through my head as I storm down the hall into my bathroom. This woman, I swear. If she has questions about what we are after I’m done with her tonight, then she wasn’t meant to be mine. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let her go either.

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