Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Eight

It became apparent to Harley soon after they had sex that it was a mistake. A monumental one.

Regardless of what led them there, hate-fucking Harry proved to be an issue as soon as he pulled out of her. That was what brought her back from her state of mindlessness. It made her breath hitch as he withdrew himself slowly, a little sluggish and tired himself, and tucked himself back into the underwear that sat low on his hips.

The car ride home was the worst part.

They switched to a new one on the next level of the parking garage and left the poor, beautiful vehicle they desecrated for someone else to use. If she wasn't so annoyed with herself over what she did, she probably would have laughed at the thought of someone picking the keys off the rack in the office without knowing what exactly happened on it. Instead, she sat beside him in total silence. Save for the radio, there was nothing to fill the gaps.

It wasn't until they stopped down the street from her apartment building that either of them spoke a word to each other, and it wasn't even to acknowledge what happened, it was to clarify the plans for the next day.

He stopped her as she was leaving the car.

"Um, we get paid in cash tomorrow. Y'have to be at the house by ten. Louis handles Leo's finances, so he'll just hand it off to us and leave."

"What house?" she asked.

There was a reluctant pause before he answered.

"It's a place in the Quarter that Leo uses as a sort of safe house, I guess. I'll send the address."

That was all he said before he drove off and left her standing there with the full extent of her shame creeping in the further he disappeared into the darkness. It lasted the duration of the night, then reappeared once she woke to the grating notes of the nine o'clock alarm she set before she passed out cold on the couch.

That's how, against any wishes she has to hide from him for the next week, she's standing with her arms crossed at the front door of Leo's "safe house". It was a bit of a trek from her apartment building seeing as her car was impounded by these men last week, but it's not like she'd be able to find parking around here anyway. The reminder of her car's fate wasn't a bummer due to her having to walk, what sucked about it was that she kept being reminded that she slept with the person responsible for everything going wrong in her life.

She sees, feels, and remembers it everywhere she turns. Part of her wishes it could've been terrible, at least that way she wouldn't be haunted by how much she enjoyed it despite, well, him. Though she wouldn't dare give him the satisfaction of knowing it, he's the best she's ever had, and it makes her seethe.

If she thinks about it, though, it makes sense. He had to have at least one or two redeeming qualities beneath the less-than-tolerable personality. She's already retreating back into the memory of last night when the door cracks open an inch.

The person behind it, putting on an obviously fake deeper voice, asks, "Password?"

Her stomach drops.

Did that asshole not tell her they were going to ask for a code word to let her in? And to think she let him tear her sexiest pair of panties. She's going to throttle him if she ever gets inside this house.

"Harry never said anything about—"

The door swings in the rest of the way to reveal the same heavily tattooed, handsome man she met along with the others after the cops chloroformed her. Colorful ink climbs up from beneath his green v-neck and wraps around his neck. She follows the trail of them until they cut off below a square, stubbled jaw all the way up to a pair of honeyed brown eyes. In other words, he's gorgeous.