28. Harley

TWENTY-EIGHT

HARLEY

The first thing I noticed was the nausea. Keeping my eyes closed because I didn't want anyone to know I was awake, I tried to listen for any clue as to where I was. My head was cloudy, I was awake, but it was like I was stuck halfway inside a dream. What had happened to me?

Footsteps clicked nearby, approaching. I swallowed despite myself, pushing the sick feeling in my stomach away. The steps stopped right beside me––whoever it was stood right above me. Trying to appear like I was still asleep, I forced my body to stay still. Apparently, I did a poor job pretending to be asleep.

"Mrs. King, I know you're awake. Can you open your eyes?" The voice was male, deep, and calm.

Knowing I had no other choice, I opened my eyes, then immediately closed them again. The brightness of the room sent slivers of pain into my head. Not only was I sick to my stomach, but my head was throbbing. Had they drugged me? Squinting against the light, I opened them again.

The man standing above me looked at me impassively, his arms clasped behind his back. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I could take in the room around me as well. It was almost gaudy in its luxury. The bed I lay on was a four-poster with hanging curtains of thick velvet. The lights and fixtures were gold accented, a bookcase in the back and a desk beside it were dark, rich-colored wood—mahogany if I had to guess. The room itself was huge for a bedroom, and it gave me the impression that I was in some sort of mansion.

The man took a glass from beside the table and held it out to me. "Please drink."

The last thing I wanted was to take anything from this man, but my throat was so dry I could barely swallow. It was like I'd swallowed a mouth full of sand. I took the glass and sipped at the water. As much as I hated it, that one drink was heaven, and it was all I could do to not sigh in satisfaction. Looking into the shimmering water of the glass, the last few hours slammed back into my mind. The doctor's visit, Tate and my break up performance, Emily, the wreck.

The stranger said, "My name is Javier. I'm here on Mr. Ortiz's orders. I'm to keep you safe and comfortable until the situation is completely handled. Once he's done, Mr. Ortiz will come to collect you."

"Collect me?" I asked. Like I was some trunk of knick-knacks he was getting from a yard sale?

Javier looked me dead in the eye, and a ghost of a smile played across his lips. "We are going to take out the trash, so to speak. Once a certain person is out of the way, you and your girls will be moved back to New York. Mr. Ortiz will have everything prepared so that your family can truly begin. Then he can welcome his new son and be there to help raise him in his rightful home."

He said it all with such emotionless formality that it took a second for me to understand what he'd meant. The guy was like a prim and proper butler or something, but there was danger lurking beneath the surface. His hair was perfectly combed and slicked back, but there were what looked like prison tattoos on his hands, fingers, and neck. The suit he wore appeared to be off-the-rack and ill-fitting. It was like Luis had dressed up some thug and given him a script to read to make things less terrifying. It did the opposite, actually. It showed that Luis was very serious about all this. He'd made plans, and called in friends. All of which with two goals in mind. One, he wanted to get me and the kids back to New York. Two, he was going to kill Tate and anyone who tried to stop them.

Javier stared at me. He tried to look at me impassively, but there was something underneath. A hungry glint in his stare. I had the distinct feeling that if he hadn't been scared of Luis, he might have tried to give me more than a glass of water. I had to choose my words carefully. There was no way to know what might set the man off and make things more difficult.

"Do you really think Tate is going to let me go without a fight? He's just going to roll over and let Luis take us?"

Javier cocked an eyebrow. "If Mr. Mills feels the need to make things difficult, a bullet to the skull should do the trick. Most people tend to give up once their brains have been blown out the back of their heads. We have plenty of guns to choose from."

My heart revved up, hammering against my ribs. My face remained an emotionless mask, but inside I was freaking out. They meant it. They really did. My panic caused my thoughts to spiral, bouncing through my mind. They focused on Emily in an attempt to forget about what was happening with Luis. It seemed that she wasn't working for or with Luis, but if that was the case, what was she doing?

She'd definitely been on the verge of some type of breakdown in the car. She'd been talking crazy, and that weird light that had come from her hands? Had that really happened or had that been a hallucination on my part? Then there were the things she was saying. Shifters? What did that mean? What was a shifter? Was it some synonym she had for a liar or cheat? Nothing made any sense. Was Emily crazy? Was I?

Javier was examining my breasts in great detail when we heard a commotion outside. Screams and muffled gunshots. Javier's calm demeanor faded as he turned his head to the window.

He stepped toward the window, murmuring, "What the fuck?"

Before he got there to see what was happening, a radio clipped to his belt cracked, and a panicked voice screamed out, "Javi. Javi. Where the fuck are you, man?"

Javier unclipped the radio. "I'm here, what the hell is going on?"

The man screamed over the sounds of gunfire and… something else, a screeching roar of some sort. "They're taking us down. I need back up. What the fuck are they?—"

The man's words cut off, replaced by a high-pitched agonized scream, then the radio went silent.

Javier's eyes widened as he stared at the quiet radio. He threw it to the ground and sprinted to the window, trying to see what was happening to his men. From my bed, all I could see was the blackness of the window. I could see Javier's eyes widen even more, then an orange flash from outside lit his features. It was like someone had shot a blast from a flame thrower outside. Javier's shoulders slackened, and he slowly backed away from the window.

Whatever he'd seen had shaken him to the core. His face was almost ghost white, and his eyes were glassy. It looked like he was in shock. He slowly went to his knees, trying to steady himself.

The last thing he said before he fainted was a single whispered question I could barely hear over the chaos outside. "Dragon?"

He fell forward, unconscious, his head bouncing off the wooden floor like a basketball. For a split second, I thought about sprinting to the window to see what would cause a hardened criminal to pass out from fright, but I'd seen this movie before. There was only one thing to do. As much as my curiosity demanded to know what was happening, my fight-or-flight response was stronger. I ran. I ran faster than I'd ever run in my life.

The bedroom door was unlocked. Javier must not have thought to lock it while he was in the room with me. Not knowing which way to go, I chose directions at random. I didn't even pay attention to where I was, I just kept going, taking stairs downward whenever I found them. If I was going to get out, it had to be down, right? After what seemed like an eternity, I found myself in what was obviously the kitchen. I snatched a massive butcher knife off a magnetic knife rack and opened a door that looked like it led outside.

Almost stumbling on the edge of the door, I stepped out onto a concrete patio. The sounds I'd heard coming from outside had died down, and everything was almost eerily quiet. There was a faint glow from the left of the patio, and I assumed that must be the driveway, so I ran toward it. Hopefully, one of the cars would have keys in the ignition. After I rounded the corner and came to the front of the house, I slid to a stop and gaped at the sight in front of me.

Men were lying everywhere. Face down, face up, one was lying on top of a car, the roof crumpled in like he'd been dropped from twenty feet up. They were everywhere. I couldn't tell if they were unconscious or if they were dead. It was like a war zone.

Before I could even process what I was seeing, I heard a familiar voice barking orders. "Inside. Check inside. Harley, where are you?" Tate bellowed.

I ran for his voice, like a child waking from a nightmare. Safety was at hand. Once I was in Tate's arms, things would be better. That was when he ran from behind a decorative hedgerow. I dropped my knife and slid in the grass, thumping onto my butt. A whole new terror flooded into my body. He looked… enraged. His eyes were blazing with anger and panic. They weren't just blazing, they were actually glowing. Gold, like the hottest coal of a fire. He almost looked inhuman, like something deep inside him was angry and trying to rip free. Tate didn't seem to notice the terror on my face. He stepped forward, his face going almost completely back to normal. I did my best not to flinch away from him.

He turned and called back over his shoulder, "Miles, I found her. Blayne, Steff, over here."

Without another word, Tate started running his hands over me, looking for injuries. All I could do was look at his eyes. They still glowed with that strange gold light I'd seen a moment before. Without the snarling, angry face, it was less terrifying. It was fading, but still obvious. It was impossible. That was a word I'd thought a lot of the past few hours. That was when I remembered what Emily had said. Shifters .

"Tate," I whispered.

"Huh?" He grunted, checking my knees for scratches.

"Your eyes are glowing."

His hands froze above my knee cap. He blinked several times before raising his face to meet my eyes. When I got a look at him, the glow was gone, but he looked tense and worried.

He caressed my leg. "We need to go."

He helped lift me, and I took his hand, following. My feet were moving, one in front of the other, but where yesterday I would have been happy and content to walk with Tate and hold his hand, now there was a tinge of fear. What was happening? Emily's voice was in my head again.

Every shifter, every single one of them needs to be eradicated. That word again. Shifter.

Tate escorted me to his truck and helped me get in, and buckled me up. As he closed the door, Blayne, Miles, and Steff came jogging up to him. With the doors closed, I couldn't overhear their conversation. Tate was speaking and gesturing, a look of worry on his face. He pointed to the truck and said something. That was when the others reacted to something. Steff put his hands on his head, looking up at the night sky in shock. Miles and Blayne looked like someone had kicked them in the gut. It took everything I had not to open the door to hear what was being said. All three of them glanced at me through the windshield before nodding at something Tate said, then they disappeared, walking away from the truck.

Tate got into the driver's seat and started driving us home. The silence was palpable. Normally, I'd have been uncomfortable, but it was sort of welcome. I needed time to think and process everything that had happened today. Tate gripped the steering wheel like his fingers were a vise. He was still angry about everything that had happened, but there was something else on his face. A battle or an argument was going on inside his head. It was evident in the way his lips twitched, and his eyes squinted. Like he was mentally evaluating some decision.

After going about ten miles, he sighed. Without looking at me, asked, "What did Emily say to you in the car?"

My heart told me to lie, or change the subject, but my brain knew that wouldn't work. Instead, I told him everything. The talk about shifters, the light that came from her hands, the way she'd somehow stopped the car from wrecking, the way Javier had fainted while whispering the word ‘dragon.' It was all laid out, and even after I verbalized all of it, it still made zero sense. It was like I was stuck in a different universe or something.

Tate's grip on the steering wheel grew tighter the longer I talked, his knuckles going white. When I finished, he asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

His voice was like that of a little boy asking if his mom was mad at him for breaking some rule. He sounded small and broken-hearted. It would have been sad and heart wrenching, if the answer wasn't so difficult for me to summon.

Skirting the actual answer, I said, "Well, you're being super intense. And I have to admit, shit's a little weird. What did Emily do to the car? How did the four of you take out like a dozen armed guards without getting hurt? And why in the fuck were your eyes glowing? That's the big one."

"I love you, and I would never hurt you," Tate whispered.

He loved me? It was the first time he'd said those words to me. It was the first time a man had professed love for me since Sam died. My breath caught in my throat, unable to form words. So many emotions surged within me then. Fear, excitement, terror… maybe my own love for him. It was too much. Too much for one day.

He went on. "Remember, I promised to keep you safe. I will not fail. I stand by my word." He glanced at me, and his eyes were glowing again. I sucked in a gasp. "Don't be afraid. Not of me. And not of anyone else. They'll protect you with their life."

"They? Who's they ?" I asked.

Tate was silent for several seconds before he shrugged and said, "You'll know soon enough."

The rest of the ride was quiet. We were both wrapped up in our thoughts. There was no way to know what Tate was thinking. My own mind spun through so many possibilities that it was almost an endless parade of nightmares. By the time we finally pulled into the driveway, I was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted.

"The girls have no idea you were taken. I'll leave that up to you if you want them to know," Tate said. "Once you get in and have the girls settled and into bed, come over to my place. I've got a lot I need to tell you. No more secrets."

I glanced at the dark outlines of his house, then at mine with the bright windows. One looked depressing, the other looked warm and inviting.

"Aren't you coming to my house? Why would you stay over there?"

A miserable, heartbroken look slid across Tate's features. He looked awful when he whispered, "You may not want me around the girls once I tell you everything."

Not knowing how to respond to that, I nodded. His answer scared me, but there was nothing to do now. I'd have to wait to find out what the hell was going on in an hour or two when the girls were asleep. Without another word, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the truck. As I walked up the path to the door, I heard Tate back his truck across the street and into his driveway. Before I opened the front door, I made the decision not to tell the girls what had happened. There was too much to deal with, without me needing to explain the whole story and calm them down. It was for the best, and it would only exhaust me further. I wasn't sure if it was the right call, but it was what I was going to do. Before I stepped inside, I glanced back at Tate's house. It was still dark, but now somehow ominous. A chill went up my spine, and I closed and locked the door as soon as I was inside.