Page 13 of Hunting Harbor

The ice in my glass clicks against the edge when I pick up my whiskey. I watch her intently, the crowd nothing but sacks of meat passing between us. My fingers twitch as I take out my phone. This will take careful handling. I dial, holding it close to my mouth. We’ve had this discussion before, only he made a stink about it. He has Cassidy at the cabin, but it’s my turn. He’s taken long enough. After all, sharing is caring.

Finally he answers. “Kairo.”

“I need the cabin, like now.”

Silence, then a huff. Noah doesn’t like when plans change. “I don't care what you're doing, just leave me out of it.”

I say, quiet but firm, like he can feel my insistence through the line. “I need this, Noah. The temporary cabin. I'll handle the rest myself.” I end the call, not giving a shit if they aren’t cleared out by the time we arrive. We can make it work.

She's gone through her third drink by the time I start dialing Creed. It's a wonder she can still hold a glass. He picks up after the second ring, as reliable as he’s always been.

“Camera install in Harbor's apartment,” I say, keeping the urgency tucked neatly inside my words. “I need eyes inside, not just the hallway. Full coverage.”

Creed's voice hums with approval. “Thought you'd never ask.”

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo. Only I have access to the feed, understood?”

He grunts. “Fine.”

Her fourth drink arrives just as I hang up. The glass is barely down before she's reaching for it. I smile. The first sip was shock, her eyes dilating; the second is a warm embrace as her shoulders relax. This, I know, is when it really begins.

I don't take my eyes off her. Not once. Not even when the waitress comes around and brings me a new glass. The whiskey swirls golden and untouched. Her posture loosens, and with it, my grip tightens.

It’s rare, this intimacy of watching her, just steps from where she is. I have every intention of talking to her tonight, of letting her fall for the handsome man who listens. Who empathizes. It’s almost laughable, considering I’m the reason she’s here, drowning her feelings. She's in a bubble of her own anxious warmth, oblivious to the world around her.

I'm seeing her raw, open, right where I want her. I remember how she looked with her hair sprawled on the pillow. Her gasp when I shoved my cock in her. Part of me wishes I'd never left that apartment last night, that I'd stayed to hear her wake. But I'm patient. Strategic. I'm playing the long game here.

I wonder how she’ll feel when I install myself into her life completely. When she can't turn a corner without me being there. In a couple of hours, I'll be watching her every move.

She's ordering something to eat by the time I make my move, sliding next to her and giving her a wide grin and a nod. Just enough to draw interest, but not enough to be labelled creepy. I wait for her to speak first, letting the silence push against her. She doesn't recognize me, and it makes my blood pump with something savage.

I give her the space to start. She glances over, surprised, those wide green eyes fighting to focus. She’s sweet like this, lipsturned up in a sloppy smile, her green eyes, flecked with yellow gold, wide and curious as they stare at me. I’m the kind stranger offering her a lifeline, pretending like I don't want to pull her under.

“Hi,” she says, her voice stretching into something half drunk, half hopeful. Her words stumble over each other. “I didn't think, didn’t see you there... I mean... it’s so packed tonight.”

“Mind if I sit here?” I give her a look that says I care. That I’m not trying to hurt her. Giving her the illusion of choice, even when my ass is already firmly planted in this seat.

She laughs, a high, glassy sound that melts into the background noise. “Why not?” she says, knocking back a gulp of her drink. “Free country.”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I move the bar stool closer to her, crowding her in. My knee brushes hers, the contact electric. “You seem like you've had a rough night.”

She nods, pushing her hair back. It's messier than when I last saw her, like she just didn’t have the energy to tame it. I like it like this. Wild and free. “You could say that,” she mumbles, before launching into what I’ve been waiting for.

My girl has loose lips. She starts rambling, not caring what she’s saying, not caring who is listening. Telling me about me.

Her story comes in waves, unsteady like the rest of her. A break-in while she was sleeping. “Someone got in. To my apartment, Imean,” she says, her voice catching. “Left a photograph... and... other things.” She swirls the ice in her glass, subconsciously pulling her lip into her mouth and sliding it between her teeth. The action makes my cock spring to attention. “You believe that? I wake up to find... this stuff next to my bed.”

I barely have to ask. She wants to tell me. She's dying to.

“I don't know how they got in,” she continues, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “It’s fucking crazy. Should be scared shitless, right? But no. I just sit there this morning like... like...” She trails off, cheeks going pink. The flush looks good on her. Almost as good as it did last night. “Like some part of me likes it.”

I watch her. I want to rip away every piece of fear she has left until there's nothing but want, but I play my role. “I can’t believe that happened to you. I’m so sorry, that must have been terrifying.”

She shrugs, eyes on her drink, not on me. She’s embarrassed, as if I can’t see every thought she’s having. I push a little harder, giving her a smile, putting my hand over hers, rubbing my thumb over her skin. “If you don't mind me asking... what kind of things?”

She hesitates, then takes another long sip before looking down where our hands join, but making no effort to pull hers away. Liquid courage. That’s all she needs to spill.

“Ummm. A photo. Some things were moved,” she says finally, breathless, like she's letting me in on a secret. “Something else.It’s all... I don't know... weird.” Her voice cracks, and I want to break her all the way open. “You know what's fucked up? Part of me thinks it's romantic. In a fucked-up kind of way.”

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