Page 13 of Unbound

Sybil makes a little squeaking noise, quickly clearing her throat to cover it up. “Are you asking for suggestions, or was that more of a rhetorical kind of question?”

I huff out my version of a laugh, shaking my head. “Rhetorical. But I’m pretty sure we both need to go the fuck to bed.” I point at her. “Just don’t go through my shit again. The last thing I need is for you to accidentally burn my house down playing with matches.”

I want to be pissed at her invasion of my privacy, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I thought I might find something that would help me find answers.

“I won’t.” She gives me a smile as she slides off the stool. “I promise.”

I don’t know that her promises mean anything to me right now, but I need to sleep, and there’s nothing in this house I’m necessarily trying to keep hidden. I guess if she decides to go exploring again, that’s her prerogative. As long as I don’t have to call the fire department.

I turn off the kitchen lights on my way back upstairs, stopping at my door as Sybil continues down the hall. She pauses before going into her room, one hand resting on the frame. I can hardly make out her features, but the pale blonde of her hair almost seems to glow in the hazy moonlight as she faces me.

“Walker?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry.” Her voice is soft. Barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want to deceive you.”

It’s another claim that doesn’t carry much weight right now, so I don’t acknowledge it. I just say, “Good night, Sybil.”

4

Sybil

Waking up in Walker’s house is… not as weird as I thought it might be. I expected to feel uncomfortable. Out of place. But I don’t. And I have to think that’s because of our late night conversation after he caught me prowling around his office.

I hadn’t planned on telling Walker as much I did about why I’m here. Not until I’d gathered a little more information. Figured out if our pasts really do intertwine, or if I’ve simply found another dead end at the bottom of a very good looking rabbit hole.

Who also smells delectable.

Even now, after passing out for a few hours, I can still imagine his scent. Hopefully it’s because it’s simply permeated the entire house, and not because I’m developing an unhealthy attachment to the man currently serving as my captor of sorts.

Would that count as Stockholm syndrome?

Flipping to my back on the bed, I stretch both arms over my head, feeling surprisingly decent, all things considered. I didn’t get shot. I don’t feel quite as guilty as I did now that I’ve spilled a few of my secrets. And I don’t have to worry about anyone finding me here. Even if the man who threatened me could narrow down my location, there’s probably not many places where I would be safer. Walker owns a security company, for goodness sake. If he can’t keep me safe, no one can.

Which is why I had to tell him something. I’ve got to stay on his good side unless I want to be out on my ass, fending for myself. Walker definitely doesn’t trust me, even after our talk last night, so I’ve got to win him over if I want to stay and figure out what in the hell happened to my dad.

And who in the hell tried to shoot me yesterday.

If it were anyone else, I would rely heavily on boobs and sexual favors to make that happen, but Walker doesn’t seem even a little bit interested in me. Not like that, anyway. Which is… Probably for the best. Bouncing on his dick would only add an additional layer of complication to an already convoluted situation.

Sadly.

Unfortunately, my lady bits do not share that opinion. They are still very much team fuck Walker’s brains out. I probably should have tried to get laid before I came here. Attempted to take the edge off before coming face-to-face with mister tall, grumpy, and stoic.

Actually, taking the edge off might still be the best plan of action. I did have the foresight to pack my handy-dandy pulsing vibrator. But, like my clothing and laptop, that’s also inside my car parked at Maren’s house.

Old school it is.

My hand has just tucked into the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants when a deep voice has my fingers freezing inches from their goal.

“Time to get up.”

I sit straight up in the bed, yanking my hand out of the cookie jar like he could see what was happening under the covers.

“Holy shit. You scared me.” And almost caught me masturbating. Likely to thoughts of you bossing me around in the bedroom. “How long have you been awake?”

Walker is fully dressed, looking all sorts of delectable and rugged in worn blue jeans and a faded T-shirt that stretches just right across his broad chest. He’s even got a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.