Clearing his throat, Atticus took one hand off the wheel to fish his phone out of his pocket. Normally he’d never call Harlan during a job, just for security’s sake, but this was going to have to be an exception.
Clipping the phone into the holder on the dashboard, he checked the time before pulling up the boss’s contact card. Harlan never used to sleep in, but having an anchor and a daughter had thankfully mellowed him out a bit. Now he actually slept in a few hours past sundown and occasionally did fun shit.A miracle.
The phone rang twice before Harlan picked up. Atticus glanced at his passenger before flicking the button to connect the phone to the RV’s sound system.
“Atticus. Tell me what you need.”
Carmine jolted in her seat. He wasn’t sure if it was the volume or the surprise of hearing another man’s voice that startled her, but he didn’t like it. Reaching over the center console to settle his hand on her raised knee, he answered, “I’ve got a problem, boss.”
“What kind?”
“The kind where we’re gonna have to dig a deep hole.”
There was a pause. “Junger.”
“Yup.” Atticus rubbed circles over her kneecap with his thumb, mostly to calm himself down. Every time he thought of the man, it was like a firecracker of pure rage exploded in his chest. “It wasn’t cargo he had me pick up. Fucker bought a bride.”
Harlan didn’t waste time getting mad or asking dumb questions. His trust in Atticus was absolute. There were nouncertainties, no worry that Atticus might not grasp the situation or be misinformed. They’d worked together and been family too long for that.
“Is she with you?”
“She’s listening right now.” He felt Carmine tense and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Her name’s Carmine and she needs somewhere safe to go. You cool with me bringing her to the estate?”
“Of course,” Harlan answered, entirely unfazed by the idea that Atticus might be bringing trouble home. “Carmine, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Harlan Bounds. You’re welcome to stay with us for however long you need. My anchor will be ecstatic to have you as a neighbor. Atticus, I’ll have one of the cottages cleared out for her. Medical care is on call if necessary when you arrive.”
That new thing in his chest went tight and mean all of a sudden. It was like a leg cramp, but one that made him want to snarl into the phone,“Absolutely fucking not.”
He had his own house on Empire Estate, the large swath of land that Harlan purchased when they hightailed it out of the New Zone. It’d once been a thriving gold mine. The property was home to a manor and about a dozen homes scattered in a circle all around the farthest edge, off the beaten path from the manor and its attached gardens. Most of them were vacant. Harlan’s security team, led by Atticus, had all claimed one of the stone cottages, but they lived in the guard house by the gate during their shifts. Technically, a cottage belonged to Adriana, too, but she preferred to stay in the manor when she visited.
There were four cottages still unoccupied. They were all modernized and cleaned up when Harlan bought the place. Carmine would be totally comfortable in one. There were exactly zero reasons for him to be pissed about the idea that she wouldn’t be staying with him instead.
Why didn’t I think of that?It hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d just assumed she’d come stay in his house. That way he could keep an eye on her. That seemed reasonable.
Except he knew it wasn’t. Empire Estate was locked up tighter than an elvish prison, especially after the scare they’d had when Zia was kidnapped. And now that Harlan and Zia were on their way to having a big, happy family? Junger would have to find an army if he wanted to so much as peek over the fence.
Carmine didn’t need to be right under his nose to be safe, and arguing the point would only raise a lot of questions he was in no state of mind to answer.
Luckily, he didn’t have to figure out what to say right away. Carmine beat him to it.
In her high, no nonsense voice, she asked, “Are you going to sell me, Mr. Bounds?”
Atticus choked on nothing, but Harlan was as unflappable as ever. “No. I’d like to help you. And call me Harlan.”
“Why? You don’t know me.”
“I don’t, but Atticus does. That’s all I need.”
“Why does he call you boss?”
“Habit. He started calling me that when we met. He was thirteen and too scared to use my first name, so it was boss or Mr. Bounds. Then he preferred it to dad. And Iamstill his boss, though you wouldn’t know it by how he acts.”
Carmine’s lips popped open with surprise. “You’re his dad?”
Atticus drummed his claws against the steering wheel. He didn’t normally tell strangers anything about his past — not even the few potential anchors he’d gone out with — and Harlan was even less inclined toward sharing. But a woman who’d been bought and sold again as a blood bride couldn’t trust anyone, so a little sharing was necessary. If they wanted to establish trust, then they had to show a little, too.
Harlan wasn’t a particularly verbose man and he generally didn’t need to be. His word was law. When he said jump, you did it. Not because he was scary, but because he’d earned the respect of his people over and over.
Zia’d softened him up a bit, though, and it showed when he patiently explained, “I adopted Atticus and his sister when they were kids. We’re family. I trust him to know what’s right. If he says you need help, then you’ve got it.”
