Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,82

can’t take any more bad news.

My feet slam against the pavement as I wrap my arms tighter around my body, desperately needing my own warmth, each step taking me faster and faster. If I were smart, I would have jumped on my Ducati and rode my ass down here, but apparently when my mind is a mess, I have issues thinking straight.

After nearly fifteen minutes, I pull myself up over a thick fence and scrape my legs in the process. I cringe with the pain but push past it. I’ve come this far and I’m not about to let a few scrapes and bruises stop me.

I hear my name called in the distance and let out a sigh. I should have known they’d come for me, and really, I should have run my ass upstairs and woken them all up. They’d want to know what I know, and they’d want to be the ones running the show. I bet every shitty scenario is currently going through their minds, but they’ll find me eventually, and when they do, I don’t know what kind of state I’m going to be in.

I jump down from the fence, making it quick before I allow myself to think about all the bullshit that comes along with heights. I land in a mess of bushes and grunt and groan as my skin gets all cut up while trying to find my way out in the darkness.

I probably should have found another way over, but I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that absolutely no thought has gone into this. Especially when I get out of the bushes and look up to see just how far back the house is from the gate.

Just fucking great.

I start moving again, more determined than ever.

By the time I reach the grand stairs leading up to his home, the voices from the road are getting louder. “Winter, baby? Where the fuck are you?”

It goes against everything that I am not to call out to Cruz and let him know just how close he is, but calling out now would tip off the asshole living inside this house, and I’m not ready for that yet. I still have the element of surprise and I’m not about to waste it.

My fingers curl around the door handle and I suck in a deep breath, knowing that the second I turn it, the alarm is going to squeal to life with a blazing, obnoxious sound that’s going to wake every bastard living on this street.

I let out my breath and slowly count to three.

One. Breathe in.

Two. Breathe out.

Three. Fucking go for it.

The handle twists freely, and I swing the door open with an exaggerated force, letting it bang against the adjoining wall. The alarm screeches, just as I knew it would, but there's no going back now.

I slide straight through the door, leaving it open because … why the hell not? If the asshole knows something and has been lying about it for twenty years then he deserves to have the breezy, cool night flowing through his house.

I turn the light on and look around, knowing that right now, he’s probably falling out of bed with his wife fretting beside him. If he was the one who destroyed Carver’s home and killed Lady Dante, I don’t doubt he’s shitting his pants right now.

I stroll through his home and stop when I get to his office, trying to be quick. He’s bound to come running down here any second, and when he does, I want to be ready.

Taking a seat at his desk, I switch on his lamp just as I had at my father’s desk, and as I lean back to make myself comfortable, I hear the tell-tale signs of someone running through the house.

I wait patiently, knowing it won’t be long.

The boys are surely sprinting down his driveway right now, and I have no doubt that Michael Harding is just about to show his pissed-off face in the doorway.

One second passes and quickly turns into two, and before I know it, thirty seconds have slowly ticked by before he finally creeps into the doorway of his office looking suspicious as fuck.

I let out a sigh. Perhaps I’ve been expecting too much from the heads of Dynasty. The boys are always so quick to jump into action. Had this been one of the boys’ homes, they would have been down here in nanoseconds, but Harding took forever. Maybe the boys have given me an unrealistic