by Hope Jones
I breathed a sigh of relief, because at least I knew he was still alive. I needed to see for myself that he was okay.
“I’m in the bathroom! Can I come out?” I yelled back.
Suddenly, the door was ripped open and Huxley stood there, looking rabid and pissed. He crouched down in a split second and wrapped me in his arms before I could even blink. He was still bare-chested and wore nothing but lounge pants yet somehow amidst all the chaos, I was still able to admire the strong, defined muscles in his chest and arms as he carried me down the stairs.
He didn’t speak until he settled me in the closet beneath my stairs. I tried protesting, grabbing his arms and begging him not to leave me.
He kissed my forehead and promised, “I’ll be back. Need to grab my phone and call 911 and the guys. Whoever did the shooting is gone, but I’m not taking any chances with your life.”
Then he was gone.
Seriously, he was a ninja.
The whole thirty seconds I spent in the closet by myself felt like a lifetime. I was sure I would have a headful of grays after everything was said and done. Finally, Huxley was back in the too-tiny-for-him closet and pulled me up and wrapped me in his arm, tucking me close. We made it to the kitchen, where, thankfully, nothing was askew from bullets. Glancing around, it looked to me like they only targeted upstairs.
Hux set me on the counter effortlessly, even with his phone glued to his ear.
“Yeah, you, Colt, and Stone get here. Damage control. Let Owen stay and comb through the footage. Yeah, thanks, man.” Then he set the phone down and moved between my legs, hands on either side of my hips. His eyes moved over my face then down my body. It wasn’t a heated look; it was a concerned look. He was making sure I wasn’t hurt.
“I’m fine,” I confirmed, grabbing his face so he would look me in the eyes.
His face held so much regret and guilt that it almost blew me away. He seemed to blame himself for this, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t the one who shot my place to hell and back.
“This isn’t your fault,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Roman, Colt, and Stone are on their way. They got the alert from the security system and were already on the way. Police are a couple minutes ahead. Bad news, Sheriff Romer is probably in the ‘cavalry’ that’s on the way. Several people already called the police before I could. It’s not every day someone’s house gets riddled with bullets. It’s also not every day that it’s Sheriff Romer’s associates doing the shooting. He’s gonna try to do damage control.”
He completely ignored what I said. He acted like I hadn’t even opened my mouth and spoken.
“Huxley,” I demanded.
“Yes, baby?”
“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.” I enunciated each word to make sure they penetrated his very thick skull.
“We won’t get into that right now,” he said, trying to soothe me.
He went to turn around and walk away from me, but I stopped him with a firm grip on his arm. I wasn’t going to let him disappear like a ninja this time.
“Nope. You don’t get to shoulder all of this. I need you to know it’s not your fault. Promise me you know it’s not. I don’t blame you.”
“Phoebe.” He sighed, trying to pull his arm loose from my grip. I dug my nails in even more, not letting up an inch.
“Huxley,” I mimicked.
“Woman, we’ll talk later,” he growled.
“I’m not letting you go.” To prove this, I held onto his arm and yanked until he was back in my face.
I was dead serious.
If anything, it was my mistake. I had brought these people into my life, his life, and the life we were trying to build with each other. I was nosy and liked sticking my ass in other people’s business as long as it gave me a story worth writing.
“Fuck,” he whispered, hanging his head, finally realizing I wasn’t going to give in. He knew I was as stubborn as a bull.
“Fuck is right, now promise me,” I demanded.
“Not making you any promises I can’t keep. I will promise you that we’ll talk about it later.”
I could do that. At least he wasn’t trying to make me empty promises he couldn’t follow through with.
“I can agree to that,” I said, smiling up at him.
He looked at me quizzically as if he couldn’t figure me out.
“Didn’t get my kiss this morning,” he said, cocking his brow and looking at me expectantly.
Craning my neck, I lifted my head. He got closer and pressed his lips softly against mine. The butterflies that came around whenever he looked at me or put his hands on me fluttered so fiercely I swore I could have taken flight.
Hux pulled away all too quickly, and my heavy eyes opened to find him staring at me with a sweet look in his eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re cute,” he whispered, bending and kissing the tip of my nose. My eyes closed as I sighed.
The Hux Fog had once again gone into full effect.
Jesus, that man was going to be the death of me.
After Hux kissed my nose, he ran up the stairs two at a time. Five minutes later, he came back down wearing jeans, boots, and a Henley, carrying my dark red robe in his hands.
“Cover up, baby. The boys will be here soon,” he said, moving around with ease to the coffeepot.
How could he so easily forget that less than twenty minutes earlier, we were both on the floor upstairs, trying not to get killed?
We needed to talk about how he was so comfortable with that.
The police showed up, and true to Hux’s word, Sheriff Douche was among them. Four officers went upstairs to look around, pulling bullets out of my wall and other police whatnot.
Huxley had told me before Sheriff Douche arrived that he wanted to take point on all questions. Because we both knew the sheriff was dirty and getting a paycheck from the people who targeted my house, we wanted to hold the information we could close to the vest.
I agreed, mainly because I did not want to speak to him if I could help it. Huxley could answer all of Sheriff Douche’s questions for all I cared.
The sheriff stayed downstairs while his officers did his work for him, and he grilled Huxley. And I did mean grilled.
“Do you know who did this?” he asked, a pad and pen in his hands that he wasn’t paying attention to. His oily gray hair was slicked back, and the suit he was wearing barely fit around his middle.
“No,” Huxley answered in a low, slightly menacing growl.
“Do you have any enemies who would want to harm you?” he asked Huxley but looked at me pointedly, eyes narrowing, daring me to say something.
“Why would they hit my woman’s house instead of mine? Our relationship is new; they wouldn’t know I’d be here.”
“So, you’re saying they’re targeting Ms. Phoebe?”
“Not saying that.”
“Ms. Phoe—”
“Ms. Danvers,” I corrected.
Clearing his throat and glancing at Hux irately, he continued. “Right. Ms. Danvers. Do you have reason to believe you are being targeted by someone?”
“Nope,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep,” I replied.
“Do you have any enemies?
I opened my mouth but couldn’t get a word in before Huxley answered.
“Sheriff Romer, if you’d direct your questions back to me, it’d be great. Phoebe knows as much as I do, which is nothing.”
“Really, Mr. Carson? It’s not often that someone on this side of town gets their house shot up at six in the morning. I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate.”
Huxley let out another growl, this one louder and scarier. If I were Sheriff Douche, I’d be scared right now, and I’d sure as hell back down.
Interrupting seemed to be like a good idea, considering Hux was losing his patience. I really couldn’t have him sitting in jail for assaulting an officer, so I needed to
rein in Hux’s escalating temper. I plastered the front of my body to his side and put my hand around his back. Giving him a gentle squeeze, I indicated he needed to control himself.
He glanced down at me, giving me a controlled but thankful smile, his eye crinkles appearing.
“We’re doing our best here. Both of us are in shock. Maybe it would be best for us to come down to the station later today or tomorrow,” Hux offered, surprisingly calm.
“I’d appreciate it, man. Also, Ms. Danvers, if you could bring your security footage from the outside of your house when you come, that’d be a great help too,” he said, smiling his slimy smile.
Hux moved to take a step toward the sheriff, but I put pressure on his chest and gave him a pointed look before quickly looking back at the sheriff, who had taken a scared step backward.
Coward!
“I’ll do my best to get those to you in a timely manner. All the footage goes to my security company, and it could take a few days or even a week for them to get back to me. Thank you for stopping by, but could you guys please do your best to hurry? I have to call my insurance company to see if drive-bys are included in my package.” I gave the idiot of a man my best fake smile and turned my back to him in order to face Hux.
Sheriff cleared his throat, and when I heard him leave my kitchen, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Well that was fun,” I joked to Hux, who glanced down at me like I had grown a second head.
“Your definition of fun is skewed,” he teased.
“I know.” I shrugged, lifting on my toes and kissing the underside of his jaw.
Not two minutes later, Huxley’s boys showed up at my door. They didn’t bother knocking and immediately came to the coffeepot. Hux may not have woken them up, but apparently, they hadn’t gotten their coffee intake for the day.
Thankfully, a tall blond-headed guy with an easy smile surrounded by a full, untrimmed beard and a joking manner brought a full box of donuts. He set them on my countertop, and everyone crowded around. They looked like a pack of wolves that hadn’t eaten in six months.
“Plates,” I told them, pointing to a tall cabinet to my left.
The easygoing blond rolled his eyes playfully but grabbed everyone, including me, a plate.
He could roll his eyes at me all he wanted, but I had enough of a mess to clean up in my bedroom and bathroom.
“This ass is Roman,” Huxley said, thumping the donut bringer on the back of the head. “He’s my right-hand man at Carson Security.”
Roman grinned around his donut, and the look of pride on his face warmed my heart.
Hux pointed to the tallest guy in the room who towered over me and even had a couple inches on Hux and said, “This is Stone. Don’t take offense if he doesn’t talk much. He’s always been that way.”
Stone had white-blond hair, and his eyes were jet-black. They looked soulless, but I got the impression it was because of the shit he had seen and not because he was a psychopath or something. His full lips were surrounded by a killer goatee, and he gave me a chin lift by way of acknowledgement. True to Hux’s word, he didn’t speak, just shoved more donut in his mouth, the crumbs falling and getting caught in his goatee. I waved and was almost intimidated by him. I was sure Hux wouldn’t bring anyone he didn’t trust into my home, but Stone had an air about him that made me wary.
“This is Colter.” Hux motioned toward the black-and-gray-haired guy. Colter was way taller than me, which wasn’t hard, since I was only 5’6”, but Hux still had a couple inches on him. His hazel eyes were a stark contrast to his olive skin, but the look fit him well.
“Call me Colt, darlin’,” he said with a southern drawl and charming smile.
Oh, dear Jesus. A stray bullet had to have hit me and I’m dead right now, because I’m in a woman’s wet dream, looking at all these hot men standing around me.
If Millie were here right now, she’d be drooling all over herself.
“Hi, guys,” I squeaked out then cleared my throat to rid myself of the dryness that had suddenly settled there.
Holy hot guys, Batman.
From there on out, I did my best not to embarrass myself anymore, which turned out to be really hard when you were extremely clumsy and surrounded by a lot of drool-worthy guys. I was constantly fidgeting, or wringing my hands, or trying to stay busy. Huxley must have figured out how nervous I was, because he tried to calm me here and there with stolen kisses, looks, and touches. He was the master of easing my nerves.
The lightheartedness didn’t last the entire morning, unfortunately. Once everyone was finished with the donuts, Roman—surprisingly—cleaned up the plates and counters for me and then it was back to business.
Hux and Roman trotted upstairs to take a look at the damage. They came back down looking more solemn than when they went up. I supposed that meant no good news or just really, really bad news.
How much worse could it get?
I really shouldn’t have asked that question.
Hux
Hux was finally alone with Phoebe for the first time since her house was shot up. He wanted nothing more than to take her to the couch and for them to explore each other, but they needed to talk. She was not going to like the conversation, so he mentally prepared himself for a fight as he walked back to the kitchen where he left her.
Christ, he thought, she’s cute as fuck. At a time like this, with bullet holes marring her walls, she was loading the dishwasher and straightening up the kitchen.
Hux stood in the doorway, silently watching his woman move around effortlessly. She could be a heap of emotions on the floor, crying because her life was in danger. Instead, she was returning her kitchen to its normal clean state.
She was an enigma.
How could someone so strong not see their own strength? Huxley thought to himself. As he stood there, he vowed to spend every day showing Phoebe that she was braver than she gave herself credit for. He wanted her to see herself the way he saw her.
Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Hux moved into the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. Phoebe’s back was to him, and he smiled when she jumped in surprise as his arms went around her waist.
“Jesus, you scared me,” she scolded, placing her hand to her heart.
His lips kissed the delicate spot on her neck, and he could feel her pulse race. What he wouldn’t give to have her heart racing for a different reason.
“Hmm,” he mumbled, not bothering to apologize. He knew if he caught her off guard with affection, she wouldn’t have time to put her defenses up and fight him.
He kept his arms around her, silently rocking back and forth, relishing her unique flowery scent. If he could, he would stay like this for the rest of his life. Her proximity had a way of calming his restlessness.
“Do you mind?” she asked, nodding toward the open dishwasher.
“I do,” Huxley joked, kissing the spot behind her ear, soaking up the shiver that ran down her spine.
“I really need to finish this.” The moment was over, and her guard was going back up. Hux smiled. She could put up defenses tougher than Fort Knox, but he could be patient. He would wear her down eventually.
“We need to talk,” he rumbled after letting her go.
Her movements stilled, and she slowly turned to face him again.
“Those words never mean anything good. Generally, when someone says ‘We need to talk,’ that means they’re going to break up with the other person. Sock it to me, I suppose.” She sighed, her shoulders dropping forward.
Hux grinned. “You need to pack a bag.” He crossed his arms and waited for the outrage that was sure to follow.
“Excuse me?” she asked, confusion wrinkling her face.
“You’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future. Your house is a mess,” he said, nodding toward the stairs. “And you’re in danger. The safest place you can be is with me,” he finished.
Huxley watched as his woman’s mouth opened and closed several ti
mes with no words coming out.
“I.... Wait.... What?” she stumbled.
Hux didn’t bother responding. Phoebe heard what he said and she needed a second to process his words.
It didn’t take long for her to gather her wits. “I can’t stay with you!” She looked at him incredulously, taking a few steps back until she met the counter behind her. She grabbed onto it, knuckles turning white.
Hux strode to Phoebe carefully. He knew she might run and couldn’t risk that.
“Bee,” Hux said cautiously, watching her wild eyes snap to his. The nickname seemed to calm her a bit, and he gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You’ll be safe.”
“I can stay with Millie,” Phoebe said.
If he hadn’t been able to see past Phoebe’s fear, he would have thought she didn’t like him. He knew better. “You’d be putting her life in danger. I know you love Millie and you don’t want to do that,” Hux rationalized, pulling her close and tucking her into his chest. She strained against him for a split second before her body melted against his and her arms went around his hips.
“No, I don’t want her to get hurt,” she said as she seemed to sag, defeat heavy in her tone and body.
Hux kissed the top of her head, rubbing circles on her lower back. Although he was happy she would be staying with him, Hux hated that Phoebe felt the need to protect herself from him.
The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt her, he thought.
Nine
Pot Roast
IT HAD BEEN two days since Hux told me to pack a bag, and inside, I was wigging out. I wanted to run for the hills and never look back, but I knew Huxley would hunt me down.
So, running wasn’t an option for me.
Sadly.
My next method was faking an illness.
I started coughing, telling Hux it was a really bad time. I didn’t want to get anyone sick, and I didn’t want to be a bad dinner guest.
He gave me a pointed look that said “Know your lying, babe. It isn’t working. You aren’t getting out of this.”
At that point, I growled in frustration and stomped away to Hux’s bedroom so I could stew and think of something else I could do to get out of dinner.
