Tap.
What the hell was he doing? If Carlin’s guards found him, he was dead meat. Fear made her stomach churn. Strangely, she didn’t like the idea of him being hurt. She moved back to the window, just as another pebble hit the glass.
Idiot.
She pulled up the window, which earned her a pebble in the middle of her forehead.
“Oh, shit, are you all right?”
She rubbed at the stinging spot. Tears entered her eyes. Motherfucker. She should have just called the guards. She glared down at him then opened her mouth, prepared to let rip. He held out his hands.
“Wait. Don’t scream for help. Just give me a few minutes to talk to you.”
“You’re making so much fucking noise I don’t have to scream.” She looked around frantically, certain that at any moment guards were going to come running.
He smiled “Are you worried about me?”
“No.” She scowled down at him.
“You are,” he said with delight. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve bought us a little time. Sent them on a bit of a ghost hunt. Still, you’re right. You should invite me in.”
“Invite you in? I’m not fucking inviting you in. You can get lost, asshole.”
He placed his hand on his chest. “I’m hurt. And here I thought you liked me. Certainly, seemed that way when you were plastered up against me. Twice.”
That was a mistake. Both times. Oh, shit. Why was she attracted to him? To all of them? She shouldn’t be.
“Here. Catch this.”
Before she could reply, the end of a thick rope was swung up into the open window.
“Be a doll and secure that really tightly, will you?”
She raised her eyebrows. He was going to climb the rope up into her bedroom? What was she, Rapunzel? She sighed and, without thinking about it too much because that way led to madness, she tied off the end of the rope around the leg of the bed. It was solid, made of oak. It should hold.
The rope tightened. She moved back to the window, peering out to watch him climb up the side of the house and into her room. He was a maniac. Didn’t he know how dangerous this was? How vulnerable he was? She kept watch, anxiety making her stomach churn. One arm appeared over the edge of the window then the other, and he made short work of climbing into her bedroom. He had a backpack secured to his back. He quickly drew the rope up and shut the window, pulling the curtains closed.
He looked around her room. Taking in her bed, single dresser, and chair. Her room wasn’t much to look at. Carlin wasn’t one for creature comforts, the entire house was sparsely furnished.
“Not exactly what I expected.”
She put her hands on her hips. Her temper stirred, tugging at her. “And what did you expect?”
He shrugged and prowled around the room. He picked up the bat and put it in the far corner of the bedroom. Was he worried she might hit him with it? He should be. She had to resist the urge to stomp after him and give him a good kick in the ass. Jesus, where had these violent tendencies come from?
She hadn’t had them until she’d met him and his brothers. They obviously brought out the worst in her. He picked up the photo she kept of her with her parents on her dresser.
“I guess I expected something warmer. Soft blankets. Mementoes. Shoes. Handbags. Clothes. The things all women like.”
“Not all women.”
Although she had to admit to liking the feel of soft material against her skin. She pushed that thought away. Her bedroom was fine, and she wouldn’t be made to feel like it was inferior by this idiot.
“Like your house is any better. It’s filled of weird paintings and dusty furniture. Who has the bear obsession?”
He looked startled for a moment then he smiled. And for the first time, he stopped and took her in. “Nice PJs.”
She glanced down at herself. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Hard not to, though, when all she was wearing was a short, tight T-shirt that barely covered her belly button and a pair of silk boxers.