Page 26 of Queen of Blades

Harper stared out the window and frowned. “Yeah, this car and this house totally match. No one would be suspicious at all.”

He chuckled at her sarcasm. It was a fair point.

On the outside, it looked ill-kempt. White paint chipped and peeled off the three pillars holding up the porch covering. The railings looked as though someone reclaimed pallet wood for their construction. A large square faux air-conditioning unit hung outside a front window.

“Once we get settled, I’ll pull the car around to the outbuilding in the back,” he explained, pointing past the house to a large steel structure in the rear yard.

Sighing, Harper shoved her door open. “Well, I don’t see a pigpen or anything, so I guess it’s safe to assume I won’t be food for livestock.”

Paul shrugged and got out of the car. “You know what they say about assuming.”

Surveying the property through narrowed eyes, he made his way around the car and gestured for her to go up the stairs. No one was visibly about. Someone would’ve gone far out of their way to even stumble upon the property, but he still had to keep his eyes sharp.

Hesitating at the top of the stairs, she chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you sure I won’t fall through the floor?”

“Yep,” he said, moving past her.

At the heavy steel front door, Paul twisted a screw and opened a panel in the fake air conditioner. After severalbeepsandboopsfrom him tapping in the security code, the locks turned on the door. He snagged the burner phone from inside before closing the compartment.

He turned the knob and pushed, revealing beautiful hardwood floors, cream-colored walls, and a bench in the mudroom for them to sit on while taking off their shoes.

“Interesting,” she commented as she peered inside after him.

A large charcoal-gray sectional sofa sat across from the seventy-five-inch television connected to a DVD player. There was no cable or internet running to the house. A heavy coffee table sat between them on a decorative area rug.

The windows were covered with dark drapes, blocking the view of the outside. Overhead, a modern ceiling fan sat still. Through the open-concept living area was a small kitchen with white Shaker cabinets and quartz counters, top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, and a small table pushed against a wall with two chairs.

The inside was a stark contrast to the outside. Which was intentional. They wanted to blend in with every other house in the area to the naked eye, but inside, no expense was spared.

Paul gestured to the couch. “Get comfortable. I need to check something. Then I’ll give you a tour.”

The smallest bedroom had been converted into a security office of sorts. There were about fifty cameras dispersed throughout the property, and he wanted to make sure everything was in working order.

When she folded her arms over her chest, she winced.

He cocked his head and stepped up to her.

“Donottouch me,” she snarled.

Ignoring her, he reached for her injured arm.

“Excuse me,” she snapped and jerked away as she stepped back.

Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his fingers around her bicep, yanking it toward him.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” she exclaimed as she wriggled, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“Hold still,” he ordered. How was he supposed to assess how badly she’d been hurt if she wouldn’t show him?

“I cannot believe— I just told you…”

“What?” He stared at her like she’d just spoken in Greek to him.

Inching his fingers closer to the open gash, he pursed his lips, assessing how deep it was.

Harper’s breath hitched as though in pain. A fresh gunshot wound would do that. Then she slapped at his hand. “Stop.”

“Someone needs to check if you need stitches and to make sure it’s not infected. It’s not like you can bend that way to get a good look at it. Now, sit down, shut up, and let me take care of you.” If she needed to be sewn up, he had the supplies tucked away in the bathroom. She just had to get over herself so he could evaluate her needs.

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