Page 59 of Property of Chaos

Another shake of his head. “I took my time.”

Vanessa’s trip to the airport was fortuitous, allowing my road captain enough time to get inside and place a few eyes around the house.

“Delete the app.” I register the location of each picture on my screen: one in her kitchen, another in the living room, and none anywhere that could compromise her modesty, like the bathroom or bedroom.

Those are my zones.

Circus thumbs his phone, trashing the app and turning the screen to show me it’s gone. I give him a short nod of thanks and then pocket my device for later. He sighs, lips rolling, hisattention on her house as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Something else you want to say?” I’ve never asked outright why it is he’s so avoidant of conversation, but at times it’s a fucking headache.

“She doesn’t seem like she needs all this.”

Because she doesn’t.Ido.“You think I’m being paranoid?”

He glances at me and then back to her windows. “No.”

“Am I out of line here?” I narrow my gaze on him, Jinx’s attitude fresh in my mind.

He shrugs. “You ask the wrong guy.”

True.The man is the type to set up camp inside her house, trapping her until she breaks, and call it a day.“Make sure you walk your bike back to the junction before you start it, yeah?”

Circus nods, giving me a thumbs up as he turns for the farm.

My chest tightens when I watch the guy disappear into the night. Maybe I do push this too far? How long can I pretend it’s for the good of the club before the truth becomes glaringly obvious: this is wholly for me.

Circus was right: Vanessa’s no real threat. A brother parked outside her house for a few hours once or twice a week would be all it took to intimidate her into submission. The cameras are overkill. My nightly presence is a massive over-utilization of resources. I’ve got prospects for this kind of bullshit work; sure as fuck don’t need the president on it.

I kick the stand up and heave the bike into motion again. The roadside dips away a little to sweep into her driveway, gaining me momentum, and I tuck a boot onto the peg to ride out the glide. The Harley rolls to a stop outside her crooked garage, which looks like it hasn’t been used in years. Stand down, I opt to leave my helmet on the bars; unlikely to see anyone else out here with a death wish large enough to take Kings property.

The cat’s not waiting for me as I broach the steps of her back porch, which can only mean one thing: she has the fucker inside with her. I stall, bringing up the app on my phone. There’s no movement in the living areas—no sign of the goddamn animal. Hasn’t been for almost an hour—since Circus snapped the pic of her with a knife.Asshole probably shares her bed.The thought makes me irrationally jealous.It’s just a cat, you idiot.Just a bundle of fur that’s a convenience in her life, unlike what I could be.

What I plan to be.

I glance at her door as the sinking feeling hits like a freight train.Am I more trouble than I’m worth for her?It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Vanessa has deep fucking issues. Would my presence in her life make her mental health worse?You’re already in her life.She’s already seen me, spoken to me, and fucking touched me—I shiver with want at the memory—and shestilllooked at me with a smile.

If that isn’t proof this woman wants me around, what is?

I pocket my phone and reach for the door, stalling when the shadows draw my eye to the gap in the frame.She left it open.Don’t give a fuck if she knew Circus was out there. Don’t care one goddamn iota if she hoped I’d show. This kind of reckless disregard for her safety has got to stop.

Maybe she doesn’t give two shits about herself, but I do. That should be enough.

I bunt the door so it swings open under its own steam and sus out the surroundings. No sexy little enigma about to shank me as I step inside. No cat prepping to howl my presence before I’m ready for her to know I’m here.

I move into the kitchen and gently shut the door behind me, fully engaging the lock this time.Like fuck anyone other than me is getting in here.Her countertops are clear; nothing on the coffee table tonight. In fact, the house is so goddamn organizedthat it sticks out as beingtootidy. Is my girl a stress cleaner? Is she one of those chicks who disassociate from the emotional pain by busying their mind with asinine tasks?

I draw a steady breath and make my way through to her bedroom, anticipating the goddamn animal arriving at the least opportune moment to trip me up so that I crash to the floor and wake her. Miraculously, I make it to her doorway without incident to find out why.

Sure enough, the smug little fucker is curled up against her back, head raised, as he no doubt stares me down in the dark.Asshole.What concerns me more, though, is the papers spread across her bed. There’s only a handful of torn pages, but from what I can make out in the half-light, they’re choc full of information.Why didn’t she put it in her journal?Did she hope I wouldn’t see?

I pause inside the door and shuck my boots. I get the distinct feeling I won’t be leaving in a hurry, and the fact I parked my ass on her bed that first night, grubby kicks and all, was downright disrespectful.

My mother always had some superstition about shoes on a bed, and although I never really understood it, the concept stuck.

The cat’s head swivels on its fat little body as I move, tracking me across the space. I flip it the bird and scoop up the pages for light reading.

Something dark and heavy clatters to the floor.Fuck.Frozen mid-movement, I watch Vanessa for any sign that the ruckus roused her. Curled on her side, facing away from me, she doesn’t move.Eyes could still be open, though.I squint harder, making out the rise and fall of her ribcage.Steady.Too slow for somebody frozen with fear.

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