Page 85 of Sheltered

That’s when it would happen.

I’d stare down at her while she was being entertained by whatever we were watching or I’d feel the softness of her body pressed close while she slept, and I’d feel those massive, deep-seated feelings of love for her before the worry crept in.

What if my job wound up being the reason something happened to her? What if I couldn’t solve this case and make sure she stayed safe?

There was an overwhelming sense of doom and gloom I couldn’t seem to shake.

It was one thing to take on the responsibility of being the man who looked after her and protected her day in and day out, and it was something else entirely to know there was an active threat against her.

The only silver lining in all of it—if it could even be called that—was knowing I wasn’t alone in what I was feeling. With the exception of the guys who were still single, the rest of the men on the Harper Security Ops team all felt the same. Until this case was solved, the woman we each loved was at risk. And considering we had received a warning through Ellery a few weeks ago without any new attacks since, it was safe to say tensions were running high. We were all just a bit on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Whenever I found the stress of the whole situation got to be too much, I’d force myself to take a step back and think about Harlow. Thoughts of her, of something she said or did that made me laugh, usually eased a bit of the pressure I felt.

That was precisely what happened just ten minutes before I was about to leave work. With the uncertainty surrounding this whole situation, I’d been spending every night with Harlow. Whether we were at her place or mine, it didn’t matter as long as we were together.

I had intended to head home to my place, where Harlow would likely arrive at the same time, grab a shower with her, and start preparing dinner for the both of us when it happened.

There was a commotion outside of my office. I quickly got up and moved in that direction, stepping out into a flurry of raised voice and panic-stricken faces. Damon was standing there with his arm wrapped around Avalon. Jax and Banks had their phones to their ears, and Royce was pulling his phone out of his pocket. Huck and Greyson stood there looking utterly helpless, and Forrest had his head down, looking at something he was holding in his hands.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I approached.

“I just checked the mail and found that,” Avalon said, pointing to Forrest.

I shifted my attention to him, saw he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, and pressed, “What is it?”

Forrest lifted his pale gaze to mine. He held the piece of paper out to me as he pulled out his phone and ordered, “Check on Harlow. I’ve got to call Daisy.”

Shit.

Shit!

What this was, it wasn’t good. As Forrest stalked off and lifted his phone to his ear, I glanced down at the piece of paper and immediately felt my stomach sink.

One will be gone before the day is done.

My head snapped up. As I glanced around the space, I saw Royce, Jax, and Banks speaking into their phones. They must have already called Tarryn, Sophie, and Lamise and gotten through to them. When my eyes slid to Forrest, I saw he was no longer looking so stressed. Daisy must have answered.

There were still so many other women connected to Harper Security Ops men, and for some reason, I just knew they were all going to be fine. I had this horrible suspicion that it was going to be Harlow who suffered this fate.

I ran back to my office, snatched my phone off my desk, and called her.

No answer.

Despite recognizing the fact there had been other instances where she’d been unable to answer my calls when she was working, I knew that wasn’t the case now.

Ever since I’d called her three weeks ago following the situation where Ellery had been approached and I worried to the point I showed up at the salon, Harlow had promised to take my calls whenever I reached out. If I merely wanted to touch base with her, I simply sent a text and let her know to call me when she had a minute.

This was different.

She knew I wouldn’t be calling unless it was important.

Refusing to believe the worst, even though there was something gnawing away at me, telling me I already knew it was bad, I called her again. Maybe she had the hairdryer on and didn’t hear the call come through.

Once again, I knew I was lying to myself. She’d been in the middle of drying hair before over the last three weeks, and she’d taken my calls.

God, I felt sick.

I walked out of my office and found several sets of eyes pointed at me. When Harlow’s voicemail answered, I pulled my phone from my ear and said, “She’s not answering.”