Page 107 of The Bodyguard Situation

Mile markers pass us, and I keep my eyes focused on the road, knowing Harper is waiting for me. It’s the only thing that keeps me calm in the chaos.

I replay everything that happened and saw actual fear on Micah’s face, and I think he knew I’d pull the trigger without flinching. He won’t escape unscathed next time. He’ll pay for everything he’s done, but I’m trying hard to trust Nick’s approach, knowing he’s right.

Harper deserves real justice, and if Nick, Asher, and I can serve it, we will.

“Fuck,” I whisper as Nick takes curbs at NASCAR speeds.

One thing that sucks about vintage cars is that oh-shit handles weren’t a thing back then.

“I need this car in my life,” Nick admits, finally cracking the quiet.

I see he’s going eighty-eight miles per hour.

“Any faster, and we’ll time-travel back to New York,” I say, referencingBack to the Future.

He glances at me. “If you’re that unhappy, you could always walk back to the city. But then that means denying you the pleasure of my incredible company, and we couldn’t have that, now could we?”

“You’re more annoying than Asher. Do you know that?” I clench my jaw.

“Yeah,” he says proudly as I take a drink of my coffee.

Nick eyes me, his voice softer, deliberately testing, as he says, “You know, Calloway, I’ve been thinking about how fucking jealous you get when it comes to Harper.”

My gaze pins him in place. “Excuse me?”

His expression turns smug, entirely unbothered. “You’re protective as hell. Borderline obsessed actually. I get it; she’s fucking stunning. Sweet. Sassy as hell too. Competitive. Jesus, don’t even get me started.”

Something hot and dangerous tightens in my chest.

He lifts a brow, clearly enjoying himself now. “Relax, Romeo. Even though your hate-filled glares are adorable, I’m immune. You know, I could’ve dated her several times.”

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not her type.”

“Trust me, I’m everyone’s type.” Nick laughs, genuinely amused by how pissed he’s making me.

“You’re an asshole, Banks.”

“So I’ve been told a few thousand times.” He shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“Wake me up when we need gas,” I tell him, closing my eyes. “Until then, maybe shut the fuck up.”

He laughs. “No can do, Brod. You’re stuck with me for another three hours. Lucky you.”

Even though he acts like a dickhead, he does keep his mouth shut, and I’m grateful.

Sleep pulls me under like quicksand, and Harper’s pretty face swims in and out of focus in my fragmented dreams. Her laughter, the sweet press of her lips, the warmth of her skin—each memory flickers, bright and perfect. Adrenaline jerks me awake, my heart hammering painfully in my chest. Blinking hard, I sit up. Streetlights blur past the window, casting shadows across Nick’s tired profile. His eyebrows lift.

“Is Sleeping Beauty awake?”

The nickname almost makes me smile, but I hold it back as I rub a hand roughly over my face. Exhaustion scrapes my eyes like sandpaper, but then again, it’s been a long fucking day. “How far out are we?”

“Ten minutes, tops,” Nick replies, his voice carrying a rare note of seriousness.

A wave of anxiety rolls through me. Harper’s so close, but she still feels so far away. My hands curl into fists against my thighs, tension rushing through every muscle in my body, and I try to relax. I’ve never needed to see someone as badly as I need to see her now. I need the simple reassurance that she’s safe, whole, untouched by the ugliness that unfolded on the mountain.

“She’s fine, Calloway,” Nick says, reading me easily. “Billie and Asher are with her, guaranteed.”

“Doesn’t stop me from fucking worrying,” I mutter, my voice strained.

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