Page 53 of Fixation

HARPER

“ A nything else?” Emersyn asks, her voice melodic in my earbuds. She beams at me from my laptop.

I’m in my office, which is located right next to my bedroom. A space I only use for Zoom meetings with anyone besides Emersyn.

That’s precisely what I used it for this morning.

Our retailers wanted to see me. I needed to give my factory team another pep-talk to show my appreciation for their hard, last-minute work. For clocking in at four in the morning and kicking butt for me.

Then I had a couple of press releases scheduled. Each meeting lasted less than twenty minutes.

It’s been a long morning. Exhausting, exciting, emotional.

I almost forgot to miss Anderson.

Yeah, right. Like that’ll ever happen.

Truth is, I can’t stop thinking about him.

So much so that I already carved out time in my schedule to cook for him. He’ll have food and coffee ready once he’s back from his shift.

Oh, he’ll be so happy. I can already see it.

He might growl the word Red, and I’ll forget that my body is still healing from these days and weeks with him.

I’m addicted to his craziness like an adrenaline junkie.

Like a lovesick fool.

“That’s it for now.” If Emersyn notices the red tinting my cheeks, she doesn’t mention it.

Emersyn pats her chignon absentmindedly as she checks out her notes. “Oh, hold up. The New You City article will be released later today.” She gazes up at me, her green eyes twinkling. “I’m sure we’ll talk then.”

“Yes, we will. And—shit, one last thing.” I slap my forehead. “Don’t forget to ship my mom the new collection.”

Mom always gets my new collections first. Always.

How could I have forgotten about that?

Anderson. Anderson makes me forget about damn near everything.

“I’ve got you.” A large, slick, black logo box appears out of nowhere. Emersyn’s lips curve up. “I’ll be delivering it to her personally over lunch.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Let me just get this done real quick.” I write a thank you and I love you note on my touchpad to my greatest supporters. The package is for my mother, but I couldn’t have made it without the three of them.

Send.

“Got it.” Emersyn’s grin widens, and she prints it out. “I’ll take a photo when she gets it.”

“That would be amazing.”

That’s the part that stings the most about moving to the other side of the country. The distance from my family.

Then again, they would’ve never let Anderson kidnap me if we lived next to each other. I would’ve missed out on so much.

“Thank you, Em.” I end the call, eager to get started on breakfast. Anderson will be here in an hour or so.

I can’t wait.

My phone buzzes before I’m even out of my chair immediately.

Darla: FYI, if New You City’s website crashes, it was me. I’m the obsessed stalker who keeps refreshing it. They said you were dropping hints about the new collection, and I am dying over here!

A laugh bubbles in my chest. Warmth too.

We love each other unconditionally.

She’s even gracious about the way I keep my new collections hidden until I reveal them on my website.

I get up and out of my chair while shooting a text back.

Me: Drinks later this week? With my new neighbor-boyfriend?

My skin prickles as I do.

Wait…Is Anderson here?

My phone vibrates just as I remove my earbuds.

Darla: Bitch! You’ve been hiding a boyfriend ? What the actual fuck. I’d be pissed but, holy shit, I’m so happy for you! And absolutely yes. I need to vet him. It’s a date, then. Friday, after work. I’ll pick the place.

The enthusiasm in her text is infectious. I laugh, my cheeks heating.

She’ll love him. I’m sure she will.

He adores me with unhinged obsession. No one is more devoted to their partner than Anderson is to me.

The sound he makes when he growls mine …

Instead of getting wet from these thoughts, something strange happens. The pit of my stomach becomes weighted with lead. It feels like I’m sinking into the ground.

Something’s off.

Why would anything be off? Everything is exactly as it should be today.

Everything.

And so is Anderson.

I’m going to jump him as soon as he steps inside. Or breaks in there. Either works.

I wipe my clammypalms on my jeans, padding on my bare feet toward the stairs.

Boom. Bam. Clash.

The sharp sounds coming from Anderson’s house are proof that my concerns were justified.

The Bratva men are there.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My heart drops. My world spins.

Cold sweat trickles down my spine as I dash to the hall. I lean over the railing, squinting my eyes and searching for shadows on the first floor of my home.

Looking for him.

There’s no one here.

But the crashing and thumping are relentless.

Whoever’s at Anderson’s place is hurting him. Or—Anderson could be giving them a run for their money.

What if it’s more than one person trying to kill him? He could be outnumbered.

They could have guns.

My face goes numb. My chin quivers.

The rest of my body has other plans. My body wants to fight.

Thanks to him. Anderson’s dragged me through hell and made me stronger for it. He’s taught me not to take anything lying down.

And that includes protecting him.

I rush into my studio, grabbing my blowtorch and chasing hammer. The tools that’d cause the most damage.

When they’re in my grip, I practically fly out of there.

Anderson has taken such good care of me over the last few days. I’m healed, effortlessly flying down the stairs. I cross my first floor and make it to the door in record time.

Only when I’m out do I slow down. I prowl silently toward his place, keeping the element of surprise on my side.

The floor is cool beneath my feet as I move toward his home.

The loud noises continue.

Everything is going to be okay , I promise myself.

It is. In a few hours, Anderson and I will be together after defeating the bad guys.

He’ll hug me tight. Let me straddle him on his couch. Strap me to the hospital bed in his basement.

An odd look from a neighbor doesn’t deter me. I have to help him.

Of course I wish I could call the cops for help. They’re much better suited and equipped to handle this situation.

Bam!

But they’d go through Anderson’s things.

The basement. The bolted hospital bed. The IV pole. His tools.

The chem lab in his attic.

They could change their minds about dropping the charges.

I’m at his doorstep.

Shit. His keys.

He left me a spare. Attached it to my keychain.

I forgot it at home, and time is running out.

Tears rise, and I blink them away.

This can’t and won’t be the last time Anderson and I share a moment. Impossible.

Hope wraps tight around my ribs. It’s stronger than my fear. Than the dread.

Anderson and I have made our relationship work against all odds.

He’ll be okay.

I’ll drag that motherfucker back from hell with my own two hands if I have to.

Glass breaks. The sharp sound propels me into action. With my right elbow, I lean my weight on the front door’s handle and…

Yes.

It’s open.

Adrenaline soaks my veins as I step into Anderson’s foyer. The place is dark as always. Unlike any other day, though, his home isn’t silent.

Another bam! rattles the walls of the house. It’s coming from below me.

From the basement.

I use my hips to close the door behind me, avoiding the creaking boards and broken glass scattered across the floor. I flinch at the sight of the flipped-over chair.

Then I’m at the door to the basement.

People argue. Shout. The sounds are muffled, just as Anderson said they would be when I was locked up in there.

A sense of possessiveness washes over me.

This is my basement.

My man.

No one’s allowed to fuck with either.

I place the blowtorch under my armpit, open the basement door.

“Think…” A man’s voice. His Russian accent is thick, even in that one single word. “Think you can beat me? That you can get out of this? Hell no.”

I’m down four steps.

Five.

They’re fighting. Scuffling. Oblivious to the sight of me going down the steps.

Seven steps left.

“I don’t think.” This is Anderson. Strangled, hoarse, determined Anderson. “I’m sure. I’m fucking”— grunt , and I annihilate those last steps in a sprint—“ending this. You. Today.”

The scene unfolding in front of me is worse than anything I could’ve imagined.

A man in a dark gray suit is slumped in one of the corners. His brown hair is a mess. Blue eyes are distant, coming in and out of focus.

He clutches his stomach, the right side. Blood coats his fingers. His palm.

He isn’t the one I’m here for.

The one I love.

The one who’s in danger.

Anderson.

He’s on the floor by the hospital bed. A large man is on top of him, his hand curled around Anderson’s throat.

His black suit is pristine. His hair is perfectly styled, combed to the side. But there’s no mistaking it.

He’s a monster.

A vein pops on his throat. His face is red. Teeth bared.

He’s threatening my Anderson.

My head throbs. The blowtorch is back in my grip.

I’ll die protecting my man. My captor.

Fucking watch me.

“Sergey, be careful.” The man in the corner almost chokes on his own blood. “Boss…”

Sergey doesn’t hear it and, anyway, it’s too late.

I’m already there, a thumb on the switch of my blowtorch.

“Harper.” The man who’s haunted my nightmares, dreams, and fantasies finds my eyes. Fire flames in his. Fury. A renewed sense of mission. “Get the hell out of here.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’ve got this. Lowering the blowtorch, I aim it at Sergey’s ear.

Anderson’s quick as he’s flipping the other man on his back. Despite being choked, despite his face turning purple, he manages to summon the strength to reach out and strangle his aggressor.

My doctor’s hands are efficient. Brutal.

He’s had a lifetime to learn how to use them.

Sergey’s evil growls are silenced almost immediately. Anderson’s fingers dig into his throat, pressing, pressing, pressing.

“Get out of here, Harper.” His unhinged glare cuts to mine, his hair falling over his forehead. “Get. Out.”

“The fuck I will.” I drop to my knees.

“Bitch.” Brown, bulging eyes stare at me. Sergey’s grip on Anderson loosens, but he keeps wriggling. Throwing blows that land on Anderson’s arm. “I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to rape you.”

At that, two things happen at once.

Anderson punches him in the chest.

And I don’t stay idle. I set fire to that motherfucker’s filthy mouth.

He screams in agony. His lips turn black, eaten slowly by the flames.

“Harper.”

He’s not dead yet, so no, I’m not done. While I’ve never killed anyone in my life—haven’t hurt a fucking fly— I want this. I crave this.

I’m bloodthirsty and righteous, holding on to that blowtorch as if my life depends on it.

Anderson’s might be.

“Kitten.” Amidst the crazy situation we’re in, Anderson manages to be soft for me.

The man below us howls, grunts, and coughs.

But Anderson is here. He’s called for me to look at him.

Anderson is here to pull me out of the abyss I’m sinking into.

I look up at him. He curls his fingers around my wrist, gentle but firm. “Give me the blowtorch.”

“He hurt you.”

“It’s my job to protect you.” His severe look and the sharpness of his jaw pull me back to him. “I’m not the romantic type. I won’t ever be your knight in shining armor. I’m definitely not a good guy. What I can be is this. I can keep you safe. As strong as you are, I’ve got this.”

“Me too.”

“Baby.” He shoots me a smile while he’s choking a man. The one I’m burning. “I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know for it. Now, baby. Hand me the blowtorch, and step back. Let me protect you.”

I didn’t realize I’ve been crying until now. Now that he leans in to kiss each of my damp cheeks.

His lips brush my ear when he whispers, “Let me.”

The last of my resistance falls.

“Good girl.” Anderson grabs my forearm and helps me until I’m seated on the floor.

I release the blowtorch to him, and he places it somewhere away from me.

He snatches the hammer from my hand and bashes it into Sergey’s head.

Brain matter splatters across the floor. Blood spurts on Anderson’s forearms, chin, and his shirt.

Sergey’s dead.

“Oh, no.” A voice from behind me.

Right. The other one.

“Who is he?”

“This is Stas.” Anderson is half-man, half-animal as he gets up.

He hovers over me, his free hand cupping my jaw.

“He crawled in here thinking I’d patch him up like I always did.

He was sure Sergey wouldn’t release me from my father’s contract.

That I still owed them both. Thanks for being an idiot, Stas. ”

“Treat me,” he spits out. “Treat me and I’ll make you a king. You’ll be rich. Just fucking fix me.”

“Fuck you and your money,” he hisses.

My boyfriend doesn’t need anyone to crown him king. He already is one. A cruel king. A vicious, sexy one.

He’s exactly that as he stalks over to the withering man. Anderson looks like an almighty god as he twists his hand in the collar of Stas’s shirt.

His smirk is evil.

“I’ve been your secret weapon for far too long.” Sergey kept him hidden. Didn’t want anyone using his skills against him, so Anderson was basically a ghost. The rest of the Bratva won’t know where and with whom to look for him now. No one will. “This ends here.”

Bam.

Using my hammer, Anderson bashes Stas’s eye in. It’s a satisfying sight, watching his blood trickling down his cheek.

Bam.

The other one.

That does it. Stas is dead. He lies perfectly still, his hand that clutched his wound drops to his side.

Anderson turns to me, letting go of the hammer. Dropping it to the floor.

His steps are just as confident and terrifying as he walks toward me. His eyes burn with something feral.

Except he doesn’t fuck me. He picks me up, places me on the familiar hospital bed— mine —and presses a kiss to my temple.

“Sit tight. Let me handle it.” He grounds me by grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Understood?”

My hands go to his cheeks. There’s nothing else I’d rather touch. Nowhere else I’d rather be.

“Understood.”