I turn toward the door.“Five minutes.”
“Ten.”
“Seven.”
“Eight and you stop bargaining like a caveman.”
“Eight,” I agree.
I step into the hallway and close the bedroom door behind me.Then I stand there, breathing through the memory of the kiss.Through the taste of her.Through the knowledge that she called, and I came, and now there’s no clean way out of this.
My phone buzzes, a call from Savage.
“Is she alive?”he asks when I answer.
“Yes.”
“What was the threat?”
“A Broken Vulture hang-around.Sent by Reaper.He left breathing.”
A pause.“You’re sure?”
“He was carrying a message.”
Savage exhales slowly.“And Harper?”
I look at her closed bedroom door.Behind it, drawers open and close.Fabric rustles.A woman packing up her life because mine spilled into it.
“She’s coming to the clubhouse.”
“Willingly?”He sounds surprised.
I think of her mouth under mine.Her hand on my ribs.Her glare sharp enough to keep me honest.“For now,” I say.
Savage understands the difference.“Bring her in.And Steel?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep your head.”
I stare down at my bandaged hand.At the blood still under my nails.At the bedroom door between me and the woman who saves lives while I decide who stops breathing.
“It may be too late,” I say, and hang up.