I smiled.
Pulling my head back, he got my message and lifted his to catch my gaze.
“Take care of my guy,” I whispered.
He watched my lips speak before he kissed me hard and closed mouthed when I was done.
He let me go, touched his lips to my temple and then he was off the bed again and heading to the steps to my living area.
I settled back down and watched him go.
It was Friday morning, and after dinner with his folks on Monday, it had been an eventfully uneventful week.
Quick catch-up:
Nothing happened Tuesday, except when I went over to take care of Dad, he seemed reserved. Not unfriendly. Just quiet and in his head.
Which I guessed I should have expected.
Wednesday, when there was still no more from my stalker, and since I wanted to get in my studio—and honestly, I really liked Sly, he was funny and sweet, even if it was likely he might engage in criminal activities—but I didn’t know if I could create with him there.
But I wasn’t feeling like trying.
And anyway, I hadn’t had hardly any alone time in over a week.
I hadn’t even been in my car in that time.
I didn’t know it about myself until then, but I was learning I was an alone-time type of gal.
In fact, I was jonesing for it.
So, after morning sex on Wednesday, I begged Axl to talk to Hawk and his cop buddies to see if they thought it wise I was released from constant detail.
I had a feeling it was partly because I timed the ask right, partly because he read me, but he didn’t mess around.
In other words, he met Sly and me for lunch at Mustard’s.
There he told us they’d had a sit-down and they had no idea if this hiatus meant whoever was screwing with me was moving on, but …
“Since we got cameras outside your house, if you’re good for us to put a tracker on your car, a tracking app on your phone, you carry a panic button, and Ian sees to things at the club, you’re also good to go it alone. Unless he hits again. Then we reconvene.”
I was very much down with that plan and told Axl so.
However, even though I shared this might happen, Sly looked kind of bummed when he found he was going to be off duty.
So yes.
The guy was sweet.
And I felt a little bad.
But seriously, a girl needed some time to herself.
As what seemed like kind of our last hurrah (as such, though I hoped I’d see him again), Sly had lunch with us before he took off.
Axl drove me home, gave me the panic button, downloaded the app on my phone and set it up, put the tracker on my car, and then said, “You got my key. You can go get your stuff. Or you can leave it. I’ll clear your drawers tonight.”
Which (obviously) led to a makeout session he had to end because he had to get back to work.
I went to his place and got some of my stuff (though I left some of it too).
But I didn’t do that until I cleared a drawer for Axl at my pad.
I found not long after I got home from Axl’s that Brett was not at one with me being unprotected.
I found this when he called and shared it with me.
“Brett, the guy hasn’t been in touch in ages and I have to have some alone time,” I told him.
“I can get that, Hattie, but in an uncertain situation, you proceed with caution,” he’d returned.
“They’ve given me a panic button and put a tracker on my car and there are cameras—”
“Don’t give a fuck. But the decision has been made. And you need alone time, okay. My boys’ll still be doin’ drive-bys and they won’t go stealthy. This guy is watching you, he’ll know you got protection. They’ll also be keeping an eye on the club. Smithie still make sure all the girls got escorts to their cars at night?”
“Yeah.”
“Pantera keeping you company at night?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine,” he grunted. “But Hattie, next time a decision is made like this, I sit at that table.”
He’d then hung up.
I had a feeling that was partly about his feelings being hurt and I got that. He’d stepped up. And obviously Axl hadn’t called him in on the powwow.
I texted Axl to inform him of this misstep, and he’d texted back it was noted.
Hopefully, the stalker was done with me.
But if he wasn’t, I’d make sure Brett was in on future decisions about my safety.
And I took this as indication that no matter what Axl said, or Brett said, he was no motherfucker.
Dad had been in the same reflective mood that evening. And even though Axl had told me he’d have to work late so I was on my own for dinner, thus I told Dad I could hang with him for a while, he’d said something he’d never said before.