Page 42 of Locked In

Harper followed him wearing only a robe. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I don’t understand but I’ll go.” He walked over and pulled a chair out from under her table and then wedged it under the knob to her balcony door. He came back over to her. “Keep your phone next to you and call me if you hear anything.”

She nodded.

He hated leaving her, but he wouldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. Not ever. He put on his jacket and then bent his mouth to hers and kissed her. He moved his hand under her robe and stroked between her legs. She leaned into him. He broke off the kiss and went out the door without another word.

As he got into his SUV, he glanced back at her condo. Harper Edwards was a nightmare. His nightmare. The electricity between them was enough to light Manhattan. He had no idea why she thought she could fight it. There was no getting away from something like this no matter how much either of them might want to. Maybe it was his Irish ancestors or maybe it was on a more cellular level but either way, Flynn knew he and Harper had a connection that was beyond the normal. He’d give her a bit of space but the sooner she came to realize this was the truth of it, the better. Harper wasn’t going anywhere without him.

He pulled out his cell and made a call. “Karl, how would you like to do me a favor?”

* * *

Flynn arrived at the manor with his stomach rumbling. What was it about Maine that made him hungry all the time? He headed for the kitchen and was walking across the salon when Carruthers passed him. “I trust that you won’t eat all of the chicken this time?” she said with a sneer.

“You just never know,” he replied and kept walking. That woman was sitting on his last nerve and it was getting thinner and more stressed with each interaction with her.

Flynn made himself a roast beef sandwich and poured a glass of milk. Finishing up his snack, he was heading out of the kitchen when he bumped into Eli Fisher again.

“O’Connor.”

“Fisher.”

The sound of rain hitting the windows made them both turn and look. “Does it ever stop raining in this place?” Flynn commented.

“I’m told this is not the norm and soon it will turn to snow.”

“Lovely,” Flynn growled.

Fisher had a peculiar smile on his face. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I am coming to appreciate Maine more and more.” Then he turned and went into the kitchen.

Flynn stared after him. Not sure what that was all about, but one thing was certain, something sure as hell was going on with Fisher.

He shrugged and started out of the dining room when a blood-curdling scream pierced the darkness followed by some thumping. Flynn took off toward the sound. He rounded the corner and slid to a halt in the foyer. The lights were off. He hit the switch as Fisher came up behind him.

There at the bottom of the stairs was Calli, dressed in another mini dress. This one was forest green but now her legs were at an unnatural angle and so was her neck. Her eyes stared unseeing toward the ceiling. A bolt of lightning lit up the area and then thunder crashed, shaking the house.

“Don’t just stand there, help her,” Fisher demanded.

The stew in his gut was suddenly heavy as a boulder. “She’s past any help I can give her.” He squatted down beside her and felt for a pulse in her neck. That’s when he noticed that her dress was on backward. His heart slammed against his ribcage.

He studied her face. It had taken him a minute, but he knew her face looked wrong somehow. It wasn’t just that her eyes were lifeless, no there was something more. Her nose. It was flatter than it had been. He peered closer. Some fucker had broken her nose. She must have cleaned herself up and then added more makeup to cover it. There was some slight bruising around her eyes that the makeup didn’t quite cover.

“What is it?” a voice demanded. “What happened?”

Flynn looked upwards. Mrs. Carruthers was standing at the top of the stairs. Doors were starting to open and the murmur of voices was getting louder. Members were coming out to check what was wrong.

“A young lady has fallen down the stairs,” Fisher supplied.

Flynn glanced up at him. Their gazes locked and Fisher set his jaw as if daring Flynn to say more. Seemed like Fisher knew there was more to this than a fall. Flynn remained silent. There would be no hiding this from the other members but for now, he was willing to allow the lie to stand. He’d deal with all the questions once he had more time to discuss things with Ryker and Archer. This was a murder, no doubt, but did they report the crime, or did he call a cleanup crew to come take care of it? He knew what he would advise.

“Who is it?” Mrs. Carruthers demanded.

“Yes, what’s going on?” Another voice joined hers. Peter Webber, one of the Society’s more prominent members, appeared at the top of the stairs demanding answers. Flynn grimaced. Webber was an officious ass-wipe, but he was not surprised the man was here. He loved to hunt and fish. This would be the perfect place for him.

Flynn stood. “A young woman has fallen down the stairs. She is dead. Please go back to your rooms and let me handle this.”

There was grumbling and a few of the members peered over the banister trying to see the dead girl. Flynn wanted to turn off the lights again so people couldn’t see but that wasn’t logical.

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