Her eyelashes flutter open and she stretches lazily. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” I push a strand of hair back from her forehead. “You spent enough time cooped up here. Let’s get you back out there for a bit, yeah?”
She smiles and leans over to kiss me. The fact that she feels comfortable enough to initiate that contact makes everything I’ve had to do for her over the past two weeks worth it. I feel like a sap and I don’t even fucking care as I lean in and capture her lips with mine.
It takes a little over two hours before I’m pulling onto her street. I can tell she suspects where we are heading from the energy she is emitting while she sings along to the radio.
“Does this mean it’s over?” Her eyes are wide and hopeful. “Did you get him?”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel before I put the jeep in park and kill the engine. I don’t answer right away. My failure feels like acid in my mouth.
“Sokolov’s still out there,” I finally admit. “But I made sure his dogs won’t ever touch you again.” I nod toward her storefront. “Moonglow’s safer than Fort Knox now. Cameras, panic buttons. You press one button, I’m already halfway there along with half the police force.” My jaw flexes with everything else I want to say. Warnings, rules, pleas to be careful, but instead I reach over and squeeze her knee. “Welcome home, Sunshine.”
She looks from me to her store and then back again. Twenty different emotions play across her features before she speaks, “You modified my store?”
Fuck, here we go. I knew she was going to be pissed. I decided that asking for forgiveness was going to be easier than asking for permission. And I don’t regret it. I brace for what I know is coming.
“Yeah,” I say simply. “Every lock. Every window. Bulletproof. Even the fuckin’ hinges.” My thumb brushes over her knee before I place my hand back on the gearshift, needing something solid to hold onto before this turns ugly. “Didn’t ask because you’d have said no. Didn’t tell you because I needed it done right; not argued over.” I clench my jaw, the muscles twitching. “And yeah, I know that makes me an overprotective, overbearin’ jerk but after what happened—”
I cut myself off. I don’t miss the slight inhale when I bring up what happened to her. The implication stretches between us.The fear and fury I felt when I found her in that shower, the blood and satisfaction from beating Stepan into a pulp. It all floods back and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for making her as safe as possible. Even if she hates me for it.
“So you agree I have a right to be pissed about this?” She raises a brow at me, her expression closed, giving nothing away.
I can’t tell if she’s pissed, grateful, irritated, hates me, or is only slightly frustrated. I honestly didn’t know she was capable of a poker face.
I laugh, humorlessly, my thumb tapping against the wheel. “Oh, you’ve got every right to be pissed, Wildflower. I’m not stupid enough to think otherwise.” My eyes lock onto hers, desperate to read some kind of reaction. “But if the choice is between you hatin’ me and you bein’ alive? Easy fuckin’ call.” I lean back against the seat with a sigh, my shoulders tense as I wait for the fall out. “So go on. Yell at me. Throw somethin’. Tell me I overstepped.” No apology, only grim resolve. “Just don’t ask me to regret it.”
She looks at me for a beat before opening her door and sliding out of the jeep. I stare at the empty space for a beat. Then I scramble out and jog around the front to meet her at the entrance. This is a trick, it has to be. I know she has to be pissed. Why isn’t she screaming at me yet? I feel like I’m walking into a loaded trap. But I pull out the keys, disarm the security system, unlock and open the door for her anyway. Trying to remember if we left her stun gun under the counter, I watch her stride in. I stand with my back to the glass as she takes in the upgrades.
There’s a subtle difference in the weight of the door as it swings shut with a fortified thunk. The windows don’t rattle when a truck passes by outside. The air smells a little different, less dust and incense and more ozone from the high tech systems humming quietly beneath the surface of her usual witchy charm.
“Jax hid most of it. Cameras are tucked inside sconces he thought would fit your aesthetic. Motion sensors. Panic buttons under every counter and in every room. Bullet proof reinforced glass, heavier unbreakable locks, and a complete alarm system.” I keep my eyes on her the entire time I explain the changes. “You wanna tear into me now or after the tour?”
“After,” she muses.
This blasé attitude is worse than if she had started punching me. That, I know how to deal with. I don’t know how to handle dead air. This strange unbothered front she’s putting forth. I don’t trust it. I nod once. Her answer put my nerves through a woodchipper. I step further inside, keeping a careful distance and gesture to the nearest camera disguised as a decorative sconce.
“Motion sensors cover every blind spot. Cameras and panic buttons are wired straight to my phone and Jax’s.” I point to the stockroom with my thumb. “Alarm goes off steel shutters drop on all the exits in three seconds.” I stop next to the register and turn to her. “I did not touch your stock. Or your tea blends. Or that weird fuckin’ frog statue you keep next to the tarot cards.” I didn’t cross every line, just the ones that kept her breathing.
I nod at the stairs to her loft. “Cameras in every room except the bathroom. Motion sensors in the hallway. Panic buttons in the bathroom, near the front door, and in your bedroom.” My gaze flits to the reinforced front windows then back to her. My hands flex at my side before I shove them into my pockets to restrain myself from stepping forward and grabbing her shoulders to shake a reaction out of her.
“Look,” I implore, “if you want me to walk out that door and never set foot in here again, say the word. I’ll dismantle every system remotely. Have Jax scrub the feeds.” I suck in a breath, letting it out slowly while pinching the bridge of my nose. I lookat her, half pleading. “But if you let me stay? I swear to God I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’m not mad, Griffin,” she says coolly. But I could swear there was a slight quirk to the corner of her mouth before convincing myself I imagined it.
“The hell you aren’t,” I mutter, watching her like she’s a bomb that could go off at any second. I take a cautious step closer. “You’ve got that look, the one that means I’m either about to get chewed out or—” I stop talking when she smiles at me. She looks fucking mirthful. Seriously? I’m genuinely thrown before my own mouth tips up in response.
“You little shit.” I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands frame her face. I brush my fingertips over her cheeks like it’s some kind of trick of the light. “You were enjoyin’ watchin’ me squirm this whole time, weren’t ya?”
“You should have told me,” she replies with a shrug, holding back a laugh. Her jaw muscles flex under my palms. “But I’m not stupid enough to think giving us a chance didn’t come with shit like this. If this is what you need to feel better and let me keep my store, then I’ll find a way to deal with it. I’m paying you back though.”
I laugh in pure relief as my forehead drops against hers. The tension leaves me in a rush and I wrap my arms around her, tugging her tight against my chest. She is definitely not paying me back, but that’s a battle I’ll fight another time.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I murmur into her hair. “I just...” I lean back enough to meet her gaze, her blue-green eyes burning into mine in a way I’ll never get used to. “I don’t do half measures when it comes to somethin’ I care about.”
Again she’s silent. She turns and grabs my hand to lead me up to the loft and my heart hammers in my chest. I can’t figure this woman out. When I think I’ve got a beat on her, she does something else to surprise me. I let her pull me up the stairs,only stepping in front of her to unlock the new deadbolts on her door.
By the time we step inside her loft, I’m a storm cloud of mixed emotions. Relief, anticipation, fear, worry, and an undercurrent of that same protective energy that made me reinforce Moonglow in the first place. I expect her to stop in the living room and really have it out with me or ask to watch a movie or some other domestic shit. But she keeps walking to her bedroom, turning once to incline her head, telling me to follow. My brows hit my hairline but I do as I’m told. It’s not until we are inside her bedroom with the door shut behind me that I break the silence.
