Page 54 of Lock
The rumble of a deep voice floats down the corridor, stopping my racing heart.
They’re okay.
Everything is okay.
He wouldn’t hurt them, I reassure myself, but how would I know? I don’t even know his fucking name.
I’m not just angry with him, I’m mad at myself. I hadn’t expected him to follow me next door.
I won’t risk Riley’s safety, not for anyone.
Staying here was a mistake. Playing house was a mistake. This man and his daughter are not my family, no matter how much I wish they were.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Leonard
Raising my fist, I knock again.
Fuck!
“Shelby,” I call out through the door. I know that she’s home. What’s worse is that she knows that I know. After practically running out of my house this morning, Shelby hasn’t left her house, nor has she answered my texts.
Which is why I’m standing on her doorstep, with a baby monitor clipped to my belt.
I feel like a fucking teenager.
“Shelby!” I call sharper.
My tone does the trick, or maybe it’s my incessant knocking that’s worn her down. Either way, my neighbor’s front door cracks open.
I arch my brow.
“Sorry,” she mumbles sheepishly, “I was cleaning . . .” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder.
Shelby’s eyes drift to my feet as she shuffles her own.
Cleaning my ass.I keep the comment to myself
“If you need help packing, Riley and I would be happy to help.” I smile.
I watch as her face flushes.Caught red-handed, baby.
“I, umm,” she stumbles.
Raising my arm, I gently sweep her brunette locks behind her right ear. “Why are you running, Shelby?” I ask softly.
My girl flushes further. Locking eyes, I let her see my longing. I want this. I want her. My thumb is featherlight against the shell of her ear, and the brush of my skin against her lights up my body.
It’s only been a few hours since I was last releasing into her, but already the need to lose myself within her roars through my veins.
Our gaze breaks when she bites her lip, drawing my gaze to her mouth. As if the spell drawing us closer is broken, Shelby frowns, leaning left then right to look around me.
“Where’s Riley?”
“Watching her favorite show,” I reassure. Unclipping the baby monitor, I hold it up. Is Riley too old to need one? Maybe, but it makes me feel better knowing I can step out for a minute and I’ll hear if she needs me.
Shelby nods once, then shuffles.
