Page 13 of Connor's Claim
She never locked the doors.
Accordingly, the wrought-iron handle gave under my hand, and I was inside, brushing past the gauzy curtains. For a longminute, I stood and listened, taking time to be sure I wasn’t the only monster who lurked in the dark.
Nothing creaked, nothing alerted my senses, except for the floral scent of the woman who owned the space. Familiar, pretty, drugging. It drove me insane the longer I stood there. It made me fucking hard. Like I was a teenager with no control over my body.
Or maybe it was the memories of what we’d done in this room that were responsible.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled up her list and opened the door to her walk-in wardrobe to grab the smart dress she’d provided a picture of. It was near the front of the row, and on the shelf above, a holdall gave me a place to roll it up and stash it. Then I snatched more items from hangers—silky tops with thin straps, a blazer. A milkmaid-style dress that caught my eye. Things she hadn’t asked for but alternative clothing choices so she didn’t need to return for a while.
Several pairs of shoes went in the bag, too—a sensible pair that looked like the ones in the photo, some sandals, then spiked heels. The kind that brought men to their knees. I didn’t question myself, just kept going.
Opening and silently closing drawers found me her underwear. A sheer lace bra sat on top of the pile. I stalled. Swallowed. In the light from my phone, it was a pale pink. This one probably wouldn’t be her choice for work wear, but I threw it in along with others, stashing her underwear as if it would burn if I touched it too long.
Done with clothes, I moved on to the rest of her list. The bathroom gave up bottles, a makeup pouch, and other potions. Fucking birth control pills. Her purse hung on a hook on the back of her door, and her tablet was on her dresser.
That just left me with her phone. I threw back her blankets, revealing white sheets. No phone there. Behind her lamp, acharging cable was plugged in. I followed the cord to the top drawer of her bedside table. Opened it.
Everly’s phone lay inside, but as I grabbed it, a long, thick vibrator rolled forward.
My breath left me in a rush.
In a blink, I was a teenager again and stealing into her room from my balcony approach, her welcome warm and her arms around my neck. She kissed my lips. My bruises. Cried over me.
The night we’d lost our virginity to each other had blown my life up in ways I could hardly comprehend. We’d been kids, reeling in a shitty living situation and finding something pure in each other. I’d been so fucking happy I would’ve given up anything. Givenheranything.
Reality crashed back in.
She’d lied about feeling the same. I took the vibrator and tossed it in the bag. Everly could go fuck herself with it.
With the packing complete, I shouldered the holdall, ready to go. Then from somewhere in the house, a noise reached me. The phone ringing. I shuddered at the tone. The mayor had a landline he called the house phone and which was a public number, so members of the community could ring and leave messages for him. It was located in the hallway by the front door, and that fucking ringtone went off multiple times throughout the day, the sound echoing. Not that he gave a shite, but Everly would take down names and messages then call them back. He also left her messages on it to ensure she went through every single one.
The ringing ended, and a click followed. I stole to the bedroom door and cracked it open. A voice sounded loud in the hall, her father’s. It chilled me.
“Everly, I’m extending my visit by a day, but on Tuesday, I’ll be returning with an important friend. You will have a bedroom ready for Piers.”
The call disconnected without him saying goodbye, and I took a breath, my muscles stiff. I despised the man with every cell inside me, not only for the way he’d treated me as a stepson, but the way he was still in my life. Still pulling strings. I hated that I needed him and that he needed me. A fucked-up symbiotic relationship I’d never shake.
Not if I wanted to stay sane.
Just as I was turning for the window, a bark of laughter reached me, swiftly followed by someone making a hushing noise. It came from outside the bedroom.
“Keep your fucking voice down.”
“I am, but did you shit yourself when you heard that voice?” a second person answered. “Thought he was here.”
The first person replied something I couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter, Riordan’s warning had played out. At least two men were in Everly’s house, and I knew they were here for her. Which meant I needed to leave.
Light-footed, I dove for the curtains right as her bedroom door creaked open.
No time for sneaking around now. I thrust the material out of my way, tugging my bandanna up over my nose to give some semblance of a disguise. The balcony doors had drifted shut and creaked as I burst through them.
A shout chased me. “Told you it was worth coming back. She’s going out the window.”
Guess again, arsehole.
With a smirk, I peered down to the patio below, checking for any other home invaders but finding it empty. Then I swung a leg over. The mayor’s mansion had high ceilings, so the drop was significant, but I’d done it before and survived.
The doors rattled, and a thick-necked bruiser of a man burst out, coming face to face with me as I straddled the railing.