“We lost him from there,” he said.
She bit her lip, refusing to cry for him because he wouldn’t want her to, but it was all so unfair. That he’d ended up doing what he had was all her fault, her doing. He’d had to react to keep her safe and if she knew one thing about Parker, she knew that he’d never even weighed the choice. “Surely they’ll understand—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem, not yours.”
Right. She’d nearly forgotten. Her problems were his problems. And his problems were his problems. It infuriated her all over again. God, she was such an idiot. Because she was still falling for him, even now. Hell, she’d already fallen. She dropped her head to the table and thunked it a few times, but it didn’t help.
“Okay,” he said, and pushed away from the counter. “Bedtime.”
She lifted her head when he wrapped a palm around her arm and pulled her out of the chair. “I’m not in the mood.”
His lips quirked. “To sleep.”
“I knew that,” she muttered. Tugging free, she headed to the door and then stopped. “I need something from you,” she said to the wood.
“Anything,” he said from behind her. Right behind her.
He’d followed and was close enough that she could take in his scent. They’d been gone for hours, in an incredibly tense situation, and he still smelled amazing.
She could hate him for that alone. “I need you to be strong here, because I don’t think I can be, not after today. I need you to keep the space invasions to a minimum until you go, which I assume you’re doing sooner than later.”
Parker paused. “I have to be in D.C. to face the music on Monday,” he finally said.
Today was Friday. She swallowed hard and nodded, and walked out.
Twenty-seven
Parker walked through the house, checking windows and locks, turning off lights. He’d put off going to bed because he knew sleep wasn’t going to come for him.
He spent a few moments with the ridiculously energetic Bonnie and Clyde, who’d gotten bigger this week, their strength finally matching their courage and bravado. They were now insane heathens who climbed and destroyed everything in their midst.
And he adored them every bit as much as he did Oreo.
When he finally went upstairs, he passed by his bedroom, heading to Zoe’s, needing to check in on her just to make sure she’d been able to fall asleep without any trouble, that what had happened wasn’t bothering her.
He had no intention of letting her know he was there, but the sight of her soothed an ache he hadn’t even realized he’d had. In the center of her bed she was curled up around Oreo, the two of them huddled together and lit by only the moon’s glow.
Oreo’s nose wriggled. Then one bleary eye pried open. At the sight of Parker, his tail thumped the blankets.
“Stay,” Parker mouthed to him, pointing at the bed, but Oreo, hopeful that he’d brought food, abandoned his mistress and hopped off the bed.
Zoe turned restlessly, reaching out for the dog in her sleep with a soft sound of distress.
Stay the hell away from me.
Okay, so that wasn’t exactly what she’d said, but it was what she’d meant. And then she made the sound again, like her dreams were dark and chasing her, and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t leave her to face the demons—his demons—on her own. Lying down beside her—on top of the covers—he stroked a hand over her arm to her fingers, which he entwined with his. “You’re safe,” he whispered.
He’d made sure of it. There was a watch on this house, and would be for as long as he thought it necessary to make sure Carver kept his word.