Page 54 of Queen of Blades

After doing his business in the bathroom, he headed to the kitchen and popped a pod into the coffee maker. While the scent of caffeine filled the air, he ducked into the camera room and scanned through the videos of the property.

Nothing.

Good.

He’d lost whoever had followed them the previous evening. With a new day full of challenges ahead of them, he sighed and exited the security room. From his pocket, he pulled out his phone: 8:37 a.m. It was time to get the day started. He dialed his cousin’s number.

“Hello?” Sam, the youngest in the family, answered far too cheerily for that hour.

“Hey, I need a favor. What do you have on your calendar today?” Paul asked as he headed to the kitchen.

“Just a lunch with the police chief,” he said.

Sam had a very particular set of skills that the family needed. He was a schmoozer who greased the wheels and allowed them to operate in Oklahoma. With a gift for gab and a good eye for scandal, he knew everything about everyone in the local political scene—which allowed for excellent blackmail opportunities.

It also meant that Sam was probably the least criminal of all of them. He didn’t usually get his hands dirty, so he wouldn’t be too caught up in their current situation.

“Can you stop by the house?” Paul asked as he pulled out a carton of eggs, some cheese, peppers, onions, and ham. “I have to run out, and I need you to keep a guest company.”

“This about what happened last night?” Sam asked.

As Paul laid the items out on the counter, he checked the single-cup coffee brewer and found it had stopped dripping. Taking the mug in hand, he brought it to his lips and inhaled the divine aroma before taking the first boiling sip of black coffee.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I just don’t want her alone.”

“What time?”

Paul put the mug down and collected the items needed to make an omelet. “After your lunch date will be fine. She won’t be alone too long that way.”

“Sure.”

After a few more pleasantries, he ended the call and set to making breakfast for himself and Harper.

Harper

There was nothing more magical than waking to the smell of bacon frying. Harper’s lids fluttered open as the scent filled her nostrils. A night filled with flashes of the bullet burrowing into her father’s head had kept her from getting any semblance of meaningful sleep. Dragging her ass out of bed wasn’t high on her list of things to do. Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas.

She disentangled herself from the duvet and stumbled out of the bed. The reality that it wasn’t all a dream settled heavily in her gut. Sitting on the toilet, she rested her chin in her hand and her elbow on her thigh as she let out a heavy sigh. She’d have to spend another day in hiding from the people who wanted her dead. Her return to North Carolina, and her job, was further delayed. If it happened at all.

At this point, she wasn’t even sure she could still be a prosecutor. Her life had gotten so much more complicated than it needed to be. It was one thing to be connected to crime by blood. It was another thing entirely to have witnessed murders and not reported them. That was her biggest problem. She had no intention of going to the police about any of this. Too many people who went out of their way to protect her would get caught in the crossfire.

Right and wrong were far grayer than the law would allow.

After washing her hands and face, she exited the small bathroom and made her way to the kitchen. There was no use focusing on the things she couldn’t change. All she could do was continue on—but in what direction? She hadn’t a clue, but she’d figure it out.

In the kitchen, sun beamed through the windows. Birds chirped, welcoming a glorious new day. Paul stood by the sink, scrubbing a large pan in quite the domestic display.

“Good morning,” she greeted as she entered.

Turning, he paused his movements. As his gaze swept up and down her wearing nothing but a long T-shirt and panties, the corner of his mouth curved upward into an approving half smile. “Morning.”

“Did I smell bacon?” she asked.

Using the sponge in his hand, Paul pointed behind him. “I made you a western omelet and some bacon. Well, more like western scrambled eggs. I can never get them to flip right.”

The way this man, a certified gun for hire, took care of her made her heart swell with appreciation. Sure, he’d sought the bounty on her head, but in the end, he decided to protect her. Because of her history with him, honestly, none of this was out of character. The cooking, though, that was a delightful surprise.

“That’s a lot of food,” she commented as she scanned the table where he’d laid out the meal. “Usually, I’m a coffee and yogurt kind of person.”

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