The Bastard (Filthy Trilogy 1)

“Most likely? What are the other options?”

His fingers flex on my shoulders. “Whoever this is either wanted me to see him, or he’s really bad at his job. Either way, I’m going to talk to him.”

“Talk to him? Are you crazy? What if he has a gun?”

“I’m not without skills, sweetheart. That part of my life you missed, and I’m glad you did.” There’s a knock on the door. “Blake sent one of his men over to stay with you.”

“Stay with me? I’m not staying here. This is crazy and if you’re going to be crazy, I’m going with you.”

“I swear to God, Harper, I will tie you to the bed and keep you here. Stay here. It will take half an hour at most.”

“Do not go caveman on me,” I warn.

“You wanted my help. You wanted me.”

“I do want you, alive and well.”

“I’m right here, Harper, and I protect what matters to me. I’ll protect you. Don’t fight me on this. I need to talk to this guy before he’s gone.”

I matter to him. That brings me down about ten notches. I inhale and let my breath out. “Yes. Okay.”

“Blake’s man is going to stay at the door to be sure you’re safe. Come lock up.”

He leads me to the door and when he would leave, I catch his arm. “Please don’t get hurt.”

He cups my head and kisses me. “I’ll be right back.” He releases me and exits the room. I lock the door and lean against it, all too aware of the obvious. If Eric didn’t think there was a real threat, there wouldn’t be a guard at my door. He also didn’t promise not to get hurt.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Eric

I exit the hotel room to be greeted by a burly guy with a beard wearing a blue suit and an earpiece. He gives me a nod. “I’m Jensen,” he says.

I don’t introduce myself. He knows who I am. I’m also not letting any guy I don’t know into a room alone with my woman, even Blake’s guy, any more than I’m going to leave her exposed to danger. If this turns out to be trouble, I’m getting her the hell out of here. “Don’t let anyone in or out of that room.”

“Understood. Adam’s in town. He’s at the house.”

Adam being an ex-SEAL, who I didn’t serve with but I know and respect, from Blake’s operation back in New York City. I give a nod and add, “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

I don’t say more. He understands. If I’m longer, there’s a problem. I head down the hallway with the scent of Harper on my skin and the taste of her on my lips, the idea that I almost left her to deal with this alone, not a good one. She needed me. I needed to be here. I needed to be here a long damn time ago and maybe she wouldn’t still be here in this mess. She’s not staying and I’m not leaving without her.

Eager to deal with this problem and get back to her, I reach the end of the hallway and don’t bother with the elevator. I take the stairs and I’m at the front of the hotel, but I don’t stop for my car. I walk toward Harper’s house and dial Blake. “Talk to me.”

“He’s still there,” he says. “And the plates are registered to one of the neighbors.”

“He pulled them off another car.”

“That’s my bet.”

“That’s not a stupid, half-assed, PI move,” I say.

“Not all PI’s are stupid,” he counters. “Quite the contrary.” He moves on. “Glock at the back door in the bush. I only had two men available and one is tracking down Isaac. Adam’s with you. He’ll find you when you need him.”

“Got it.” I disconnect as my eyes find the car still parked in the same spot, but I don’t give the driver time to see me.

I cut left down the side of one of the neighbor’s houses without any resistance. I enter the unfenced backyard and cross two more open rear yards before I’m moving through the shadows of Harper’s property and arrive at her back door. I grab the Glock and holding a weapon, any weapon, is like holding an old friend in my hand. Automatically, my training kicks in, I check the ammunition, and shove the weapon into my waistband, under my jacket before I head to the side of the house.

Once I’m there, I find the car still boldly parked across the street, almost daring me to confront him. I rest my back against the wall and Adam, dressed in all black, down to the beanie on his otherwise curly black hair, appears by my side. “He’s alone,” he says. “I think he wants to talk. You don’t announce yourself to a SEAL and expect to be ignored.”