Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Out of fear of being spied on, or possibly having a recording device planted in the car while they were captured in the building by Garrett, Harry has kept every word he wishes to say to himself on the drive back to her place after switching cars. He only spoke when he called Leo to tell him the job was done.

The walk up to her apartment is equally as silent.

She hadn't said anything when he turned the engine off and followed her inside. Although the last thing she wants is to have him back in her apartment and relive the memories from weeks ago, they have to talk. It's clear based on the look on his face that he's pissed, but she doesn't care. She stopped caring about his feelings as soon as he said what he had in the car three days ago.

Harry stands close behind her back as she unlocks the door, so close she can nearly feel his body heat emanating onto her. The second she unlocks the door, he ushers her inside with a hand hovering over the small of her back and turns to slam the door shut once they've made it inside. The lock clicks shut.

"Are you fucking insane?"

He follows her through the living room on the way to her bedroom. More than anything, her detached attitude around something this serious enrages him to no end.

Harley spins around and steps up into his space, her head tilted back just enough to meet eyes with him.

"Are you? You heard him, we either do what he wants or spend the rest of our lives in prison! And, honestly, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind moving away from this place. I have nothing keeping me here, Harry! Nothing! So, yeah, we're gonna do whatever he asks us to and get the fuck out of here."

With that, she turns back around and walks off through the doorway to her bedroom. Harry rushes in before she can close the door on him, his face flushed a deep shade of scarlet with anger. He remains on the other side of her bed while she starts to pull off her clothes from tonight, and he vaguely realizes that this is the first time she's allowed him in her bedroom. Well, "allowed" is a bit of a stretch. He damn near ran inside when he saw the opportunity.

"You aren't the one who has to kill someone!" he whisper-shouts as to not alarm the neighbors.

She chuckles, reaching behind her back to undo her bra.

"That never seemed to bother you before."

It's the first time she's ever undressed in front of him without it being a prerequisite to having sex, and his eyes don't stray from her face in the heat of the moment. If she weren't caught up in the swift back and forth between them, she might find it funny. This was how her parents used to fight, hidden away behind their bedroom door and shouting at whispering volumes to prevent her and Peter from hearing the troubles of their marriage. Of course, she and her brother had their nosy ears pressed to the door the entire time.

The bra is thrown to the side in exchange for the top of her most well-loved pajamas.

"S'not the killing that bothers me, it's who I'm killing. Offing some lobbyist is one thing, but murdering the director of the FBI is another," he says, nostrils flaring. "Do y'even realize how dangerous this is to even talk about?" Their phones are in the living room, and there's no TV mounted to the wall, so he assumes it's safe enough in here. "I don't care if I die, but what happens if they kill me before I can get to him and you're left to fend for yourself against Leo? After what they told us tonight, I don't want you alone ever again. He'll sell you off to some prick across the world the second m'gone."

She counters without missing a beat, "Stop pretending like you care."

It's this that gets him to shut up, if only for a moment. The words pierce him like the shade end of a blade. After what he said the other night, he can't exactly blame her for feeling that way, but now...The extent to which he cares for her scares him shitless, and he's tried to outrun it and stifle it at every turn, but he doesn't think that's an option anymore. If they're to help Garrett take Leo down—which is less of an if and more of a when—he won't let her out of his sight.