Eternal [HS]

New Book

Hello again!

Sorry to disappoint if anyone thought this was a new chapter to Eternal, I was just popping in to let anyone who enjoyed this story know that I have completed another dark Harry fanfic. It's called...*drumroll*...

GETAWAY CAR

When Harry hijacks her car in the middle of the night, Harley is forced to become a getaway driver for one of New Orleans' most fearsome criminals. Try as they might, Harry and Harley can't resist the temptation of each other as they continue to work as partners in crime. She knows it will end in disaster, but the more she tries to fight it, the further she is pulled into his dark world.

It's a hitman x getaway driver romance with my fave tropes (enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, and so on) thrown in there. If you liked Eternal, you'll probably enjoy this. It's darker, smuttier, longer, and filled with a bit more drama. If you're interested, all fifty chapters plus an epilogue are up now.

Here's a sneak peek from Chapter Twenty-One of Getaway Car...

It feels quite reminiscent of the first job she did with him by the time she's waiting down the end of the street from her apartment's entrance, dressed head to toe in dark clothing. Black leather gloves cover her hands, the twin to Harry's own pair, this time around. That had been another gift left on her doorstep alongside the burner phone. It took a few minutes of internal debate before she ended up putting them on despite knowing who purchased them for her. It beats wiping down the steering wheel in case anyone somehow obtains their car and lifts her prints.

A swift glance at the watch fastened around her right wrist tells her he is two minutes late by the time the sleek sports car pulls up to the curb on the other side of the road. Inside the car, she sees him scoot to the passenger's side.

She mutters, "Asshole," and takes her sweet time walking across the street to get back at him in any small way she can.

The driver's side door opens under a light tug of her hand on the handle, and there he is. Just as he was the last time she saw him leaving her apartment, his face is set in an unreadable, stony expression that serves as a mask between him and the rest of the world. And it may remind her of the first time they worked together, but it couldn't be more different. This time, she has navigated the rocky terrain of a complicated and, admittedly, toxic relationship with him, and she knows better than to assume anything based on his exterior appearance. He's a master of his emotions. She'll only see what he wants her to, so, with that in mind, she doesn't bother trying to figure him out.

Harley relaxes into the seat and shuts the door with a harsh slam, not deigning to greet him or even look in his direction for longer than a second no matter how tempting the idea may seem. Her foot presses down on the gas with little preamble. It doesn't matter that he didn't tell her the address. Apparently, he thought ahead and put it into the GPS. Not to be considerate, of course, but to avoid having to look at or speak to her.

Or so she thinks. After five seconds of the car moving down the street, he speaks.

"Seatbelt."

The sound of his voice halts the pattern of her breathing due to the instinctive reaction of her traitorous body before she gathers herself.

"No thanks, if we crash, I want to make sure I'm able to crawl out before I die." She turns her narrowed eyes to him, and the sight of him nearly knocks the wind from her chest despite her display of bravado. "You know, God forbid the last thing I see is your face. I'd rather see the sky."

Tension is palpable in the air between them. It's charged with an electricity she forgot to expect with him near, and she wishes she didn't notice it. She wishes it weren't still there after their recent falling out.

Harry points the barrel of his gun in her direction with a lazy twirl of his wrist and deadpans at her, his mask firmly in place. A single strand of brown hair dangles in his face as his eyes bore into her own. The command in his stare is undeniable, and, she must admit, it takes more bravery than she thought it would to ignore the urge to instantly comply.

"Put your fucking seatbelt on."

Without a second of hesitation, she slams on the brake and reaches for the knife strapped to her thigh. Every movement is too quick for him to see before he's confronted with the sight of her leaning over the center console with the sharp side of her serrated blade pressing into his clothed cock. When his stare, tinged with subtle surprise that she now knows how to spot on him after weeks spent by his side, lifts to take in her face, her jaw is clenched.

"I do what I want," she spits. "Now, unless you want your favorite part to get familiar with my knife, put that gun back on your lap and shut your mouth."

And with Harry being Harry, it shouldn't surprise her that he remains unfazed by this. It's not as if she'd actually do it and risk their boss's wrath for harming his most valued worker when he needs his expertise the most. No, they are both untouchable. So long as Leo draws breath on this earth, there will be enemies he needs them to take care of on his behalf, and as long as they have to do his dirty work, he won't let anything detrimental happen to them without harsh consequences.

"Y'know it's your favorite part too," is all he says in response.

The hand holding the gun falls back to his lap.