Breaking Mr Walker

Chapter 6: A bridge to Burn

Felicity

Nolan parks outside our building. Yes, he lives with me in the spare room of our two-bed flat in Mayfair that Father had brought us – well, me.

I still never asked Father why Nolan wasn't fired for what happened the night before my 16th birthday. I knew Stalker had spoken the whole truth about everything that had happened that night. But I didn't dare to bring it up myself.

Nolan turns off the car, gets out and rounds to my door. He escorts me upstairs and both, he and I, pack our bags for the next few days. He still hasn't told me why he had gone to Scotland and what he found wrong with the security system. I'd get it out of him.

"Stalker?" I call as I perch on the side of my bed.

Nolan pushes the door and steps inside. "Ready?"

"Yes." I point to my backpack on the middle of my bed. I know I can carry it but I want Nolan to.

He flings his backpack over one shoulder and puts mine over his other shoulder.

"My legs hurt." I lie and he knows since he sees through me. "I can't walk anymore."

"We can wait, Miss Baker." Nolan takes several steps backwards until he stands exactly two feet away from the door. This man had walked the entire building – I kid you not – blind folded, with music blaring from noise cancelling earphones, when we moved in about two years ago. At that time, he traced each and every step from memory. He knew the ins and outs of this building better than what was on his own phone. He even installed his own patented security software to our flat which complements the building's existing system.

Nolan engineered the entire system himself and Father helped him set up the business while I helped him name it – well, I named it – Stalker's Eye.

For the past two years, he has been in constant talks with the building manager to upgrade their system to his. He works security like no one else. He is perfect at his job.

And I am his job.

"Carry me?" I say, completely maliciously. I lick my lips and dig my teeth into my bottom lip, taking a longer than normal blink and tilting my head to the side after moving my hair from the would-be-exposed neck area.

Nolan shifts on the spot and puts my backpack down. He pushes his arm through the second strap of his backpack and then carries mine around his elbow and steps forward.

"Are you ready?" I ask, as seductively as I can.

"Yes, Miss Baker." Nolan lifts me off the bed and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Shit!

"Mind your head." He walks out of my room, turns and pulls the door shut, setting the alarm.

Yes, we have alarms inside the house too. I see from my easily scannable position that he has already closed the shared bathroom, his bedroom, and the utility room's doors and armed them. The green light above each door is indicative of that.

"Wait!" I squirm against him. "The balcony."

"Shit!" Nolan puts me down and rushes to set the balcony alarm. "Fuck! How could I have forgotten?" He mutters to himself.

"Sorry, Nolan. That was probably my fault." It was definitely my fault. If I hadn't tried to distract him, he would have done his checks as always. I don't think it would have made a difference and should have probably kept my mouth shut. We are in Mayfair, after all. No one is breaking into our third floor flat through our balcony.