"Huck?" she asked, voice small.
"Yeah, babe," I agreed, relief rushing through my system, leaving me a bit frazzled from all the adrenaline. "You had a seizure," I added.
"I figured," she agreed. "I'm wet."
"And not the good kind," I agreed. "You fell in the pool. Thank fuck Ayanna was there to grab you before I got there."
"I owe her flowers or candy or something."
"She'd like that. You good? You need to go to the hospital?"
"God, no. I just... I need to lay down for a while," she admitted.
"Luckily, got a bed right here," I said, as she looked up at me. "I can get you something dry to change into, then you can hang here until you feel better."
"I should go home."
"Why?"
"My head hurts," she admitted, and now that she mentioned it, the pain was clear in her eyes.
"Party's over," I told her, shuffling her off my lap so I could get up, find her the clothes she needed, then help her stand up so she could change. "You got this?" I asked, waving to the clothes.
"I, ah, yeah," she said, not sounding entirely convincing.
I probably should have gone out, found Ayanna, brought her back to help, but it was easier just to reach down, grab the hem of her shirt, then drag it up and off, reaching for the sweatshirt I'd found for her, yanking it down over her body, and settling it into place.
"Huck..." she said when my hands went to her shorts.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," I reminded her, yanking her soaked shorts and panties down, holding her arm as she stepped out. "Step in," I demanded after I leaned down, and tried to ignore her pussy in my face as I went. "Alright. The bed is all yours. I am going to quiet shit down. Need anything?"
"Something for my head."
"Like?"
"Whatever you have that is strongest," she said, crawling onto the bed, curling into herself, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.
"Okay. Be right back," I told her, rushing out, barking orders to fuck off, get lost, come back next weekend, then digging around in the cabinets to try to find the pain meds they'd given McCoy for his knocked-out tooth.
"She alright?" Ayanna asked, changed into the dress she'd shown up in, sober as a judge from the whole ordeal.
"She's got a headache. Just wants to lay down for a bit. Is Booker coming to get you?"
"Yeah, he's on his way."
"She says she owes you flowers or candy," I told her when I finally found the bottle of pills, still mostly full.
"She's a nice girl. I don't know why you and McCoy were eyeing her like she was the enemy earlier. From what I can tell, she doesn't go anywhere or do anything. She does her videos and orders take-out. She doesn't plan big takeovers of the gun trade in the area."
"Yeah. I'm starting to think that is likely the case."
Even if she was convenient, what crime boss would use an epileptic chick to do their information gathering for them? It wasn't like she could blend in easily if she was seizing and shit.
"Maybe bring her some coffee," Ayanna suggested. "If she has a headache, caffeine helps."
"Right," I agreed, going to make her a cup.
"And Huck," she said when she heard her man coming in the front door. "Let the girl stay the night."
"I might not be all warm and fuzzy, Ay, but I wasn't planning on kicking a girl out after she had an episode like that."
"Woman, that's a good look on you," Booker, Ayanna's man, said as he moved into the kitchen. I'd known the man casually for years, and had never seen him in anything other than a suit, always looking put together. Booker was tall, fit, dark-skinned, and shaved headed, with keen eyes that seemed to cut right through you. He'd been in security for a while now, quickly building a name and reputation for himself.
It was clear to everyone but him that Ayanna was getting a little sick of never seeing him. That said, she melted when he fed her an easy compliment.
"You should see what I have on under it," Ayanna said, giving him bedroom eyes right in the middle of my kitchen.
"I'll take her off your hands now," Booker said, giving me a nod.
"Give Harmon my number when she's feeling better," Ayanna demanded, tucking under her man's arm as he led her out of the house.
I took the coffee and pills upstairs, grabbing a comforter off the bed in our spare bedroom, then going back into mine.
"Found the good stuff," I told Harmon as I came in the room.
"God, you stomp everywhere you go," she grumbled, rocking, hands still pressed to her eyes. "It's like you have cinder blocks on your feet," she went on as I attempted to step more softly while I made my way across the room, putting down the mug, and shaking out a pill.
"One or two?"
"What kind of good stuff?"
"The kind that can make you sleep or make you high," I told her.
"One," she decided, holding her hand out.
"I bought you coffee."
"Thank you," she said, slowly pushing up, popping the pill in her mouth, then reaching for the coffee. "Can you turn the light any lower in here?"
"I can turn it off completely, or I can put the bathroom light on so it just glows in here a bit.
"Glow is good. I just need an hour or so, then I can go back home," she assured me.
"You're staying.
"No," she objected, leaning back against the headboard, head tipped back. "I'll be okay."
"Yeah, 'cause you're keeping your ass here."
"Huck, I—"
"Thank me for my hospitality," I supplied for her, getting a small smile to pull at her lips. "Don't mention it, babe. Go on. Get some sleep. You're safe here."
I didn't know right that moment that just two hours later, after Harmon had passed out, and I had filled in Remy about the events of the night after he'd taken off to his room with his animals... and three women, and I had finally crashed in the guest room, the house would be woken up by a familiar sound.
Gunshots ringing out.
I was awake and off the bed in a blink, adrenaline pumping through my system as I took a second to register what was going on.
People could be crazy. Shooting off at nothing in the middle of the night.
But this was too close. And just as that thought formed, I could hear the glass breaking downstairs.
"Fuck," I hissed, rushing across the room. By the time I got to the hall, McCoy, Remy, and Che were already rushing out of their rooms, guns in hands. Mine was in my room.
Where Harmon was.
Fuck.
"I need to secure Harmon," I said, not even waiting for a response as I flew into my room, finding Harmon awake, eyes wide, panicked, not sure what to do. "Come on," I said, grabbing her hand, dragging her into the bathroom. "Get in," I demanded, pushing her toward the tub. "Get in and stay low. I have to go and see what is going on. Don't move, okay?" I asked, wasting a precious moment waiting for her shock to wane enough for her to nod in agreement. "I'll be right back," I assured her, then turned and ran, shutting the door, grabbing my gun out of the nightstand, then rushing through the house.