Chapter Twenty-Two
PRI
Once I’m downstairs, Adrian isn’t in view and I don’t know why I know he’s in my room, but I do. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Hope. Me daring to feel hope. Whatever the case, I hurry down the hallway and when I enter the room, he’s sitting on the bed, chin low. I shut the door and slowly his gaze lifts. He casts me in a tormented stare.
The air thickens with anticipation. Mine and his. I don’t have to read his mind to know he’s not in a good place, but the fact that he’s here, in my room, tells me he’s not pushing me away. This matters. This is progress. This is him telling me he’s not walking away.
I hope.
I close the space between us and he watches my every step, the swoosh of a ceiling fan somehow louder now. I stop in front of him, and for several beats, we just stare at each other, a pulse of awareness between us. He seems to be waiting for me, and of course, why would he not? He made the first move. He came to me. He’s waiting for my reply. Is he welcome? Do I still want him?
My hands press to his face and for a moment he doesn’t react, but when I whisper his name, “Adrian,” he seems to breathe again. His lashes lower, and he nestles into my palms as if my touch is everything.
I’ve never felt like everything to anyone.
He captures my hand and his eyes meet mine again, a punch of emotion between us. “Pri,” he murmurs. “There are so many things you need to know.”
“And you’ll tell when the time is right. And I’ll prove to you that I’m not fair-weathered. I’m not in this, any of this, most certainly, not us, because it’s easy. But it is right and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong. I don’t think I have it in me to let you go.”
“Good,” I say, relieved that the tug of war is over. No more promises of hate. No more foreboding goodbyes. “Finally,” I add. “And right now, I just really want to be with you. To be with us.” I shove him backward onto the mattress, climbing on top of him, straddling him. “Don’t let them win,” I say, my hands on his chest, the thick ridge of his erection pressed to the hot spot between my thighs. “Don’t let them make you believe you’re like them. You’re not.”
He rolls me over, his leg sliding between mine, his big body pressed to mine, his elbow by my side, holding up his upper body. “I could say a lot of things right now.”
“Should I say them for you? You’re bad. Too bad. So very bad.”
“No,” he says softly. “I’m not going to say those things anymore. You know. You don’t care.”
“Now you’re starting to understand.” My fingers curl on his jaw. “But just in case you decide to go down that rabbit hole again, I’m alone in a sea of sharks. Do you think you’ll save me by walking away?”
His eyes darken, lashes lowering once more as he murmurs, “What are you doing to me, woman?” and then his mouth crashes down on mine, his tongue stroking long, deep, slow.
He lets me taste his anguish, pain, self-hatred. But there’s more. There’s his unyielding need for me and us. There is our unexplainable, impossible-to-deny bond. A bond it seems created in blood.
The kiss transforms and becomes another. And this kiss, this kiss is passion, so much passion, and tenderness. We savor each other, this time that somehow feels as if it’s all the time we have, despite every promise we’ve made that there will be more, so much more. We undress each other. His T-shirt goes first, and my hands instantly seek the heat of his skin, the taut muscle of his hard body. I press him to his back again and he lets me, his body flexing beneath my touch, my mouth, my hands exploring his body.
My T-shirt goes next, and he does the same to me. Now I’m on my back and his mouth and tongue are on my nipples, teasing me, driving me wild. Soon we’re naked in every possible way. I feel that. I feel how exposed and raw we are together and it doesn’t scare me. We kiss. We touch. And when I burn for him to be inside me, plead with him even, he doesn’t give me what I want. He slows us down. I’m on my back all over again and his hand is under my backside, squeezing as he nips at my lips.
“I need to know how you taste.”
“I’m pretty sure you already know,” I whisper.
“Not here,” he says, brushing his lips over my lips. “All over. All of you.”
And then he’s sliding low, trailing his mouth downward to my belly, feathering kisses there, teeth scraping my hipbone, and sending shivers through my body. He owns me in this moment in time, and I don’t try to hide it. I moan. I arch into his touch. I reach for him and the ache between my legs becomes almost unbearable.
And then he’s there, right there, in the most intimate place on my body, between my thighs, his breath a warm fan on my sex, heat that promises all that I want, forever it seems. My fingers tangle in the dark soft strands of his hair, a silent plea. Almost as if that’s what he was waiting for, his tongue flickers over my clit, a quiet touch there and gone that has me gasping, craving more.
“Adrian,” I pant out, and then he’s suckling me, drawing on me, driving me wild. His fingers caress the wet heat of my sex, and then they slide inside me, stretching me, stroking me. Sensation after sensation tingles through me, controls me—he controls me, while I have no control at all. The truth is that it’s been forever since I’ve been so intimate with anyone and he is not just anyone. The room fades in and out, and too soon, embarrassingly soon, I tumble into release, shuddering against his tongue, my sex clenching around his fingers.
And when it’s over, he’s right there, sliding up my body, leaning over me, his mouth on my mouth, the salty taste of me on his tongue. He rolls us to our sides, facing each other, stroking the hair from my face. “I could die a happy man right now,” he whispers.
“Don’t say that,” I chide, fingers tangling roughly in his hair. “You don’t get to die. Ever.”
His lips curve and he eases back to look at me. “Ever?”
“Ever,” I repeat. “Never.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Pri,” he promises, kissing me again, our bodies swaying, a sultry, sexy dance that is so much more than sex. It’s slow, it’s somehow luxurious and dirty, all at once.
We ride that passion all the way to the shudders and shakes of our bodies, and then we collapse into each other, loose-limbed and sated. Long after the dampness has gathered on my legs, we stay there, just holding each other. It’s Adrian, who moves first, kissing my head as he says, “I’ll get you a towel.”
Naked and oh so beautiful, he walks to the bathroom, returning quickly with the promised towel. He grabs his pants and pulls them on. “Just in case we have to move quickly.”
“Right,” I say, and I hate that he’s right. I hate that we’re in a safe house. It’s a cold, hard return to the reality that people, perhaps lots of people, are trying to kill us. Some part of me, perhaps for the first time, fears that this is not a battle we can win. And yet, how can we afford to lose?
I quickly dress as well, and I’m sitting on the bed when Adrian sits down beside me, right beside me, our legs pressed close. His hand settles warmly, even possessively, on my thigh. “You’re not swimming alone with the sharks.”
Adrian is the first person in my life who has ever made me feel his presence, really feel it, inside and out. I touch his face, fingers trailing over his goatee, before sliding away. “You aren’t either. You know that, right?”
“About that.”
“I don’t like how that sounds.”
“I need to protect you. I need to protect Walker, which may require some distance.”
“No,” I say. “Absolutely not. Safety in numbers.” I twist around to face him. “Lauren and Royce are on their way to Chicago, Blake is working on a federal immunity agreement, and I know Logan is behind this Chicago situation. I gave Blake three names to connect to my father. Once he hands me all the dirt on them, I can force my father to step in.”
He tilts his head sl
ightly, a pinch appearing between his brows. “Pri. Sweetheart. If this is that close to your family—”
“Then I have leverage.”
“It’s your family. Good or bad, family is family.”
“Bad is the appropriate word and you know that by now. I know very well, and that’s, as I said, leverage. I have it. And I’m going to talk to the judge and ask him to allow you to testify in private and early, for your protection.”
“That won’t be as effective.”
“I have a strong case, just not strong enough without you. It’ll be enough.” My cellphone rings and I stand up. “It could be Ed. He was calling Chicago.” I rush to the end of the bed where my phone seems to be, judging by the location of the ringing. Locating it, I quickly scoop it up, and frown as I spy my mother’s number, though I’m not sure why. She calls. Not often, but she calls. The timing just feels off. A punch of unease follows that though, a very definitive punch of unease and I answer the call.
“Mom?”
“Pri, honey. Are you free for dinner?”
I glance over at Adrian. “Dinner? Tonight?”
Adrian stands and faces me, giving a shake of his head, as my mother says, “Yes. I was thinking of that little Italian place we both love. Just you and me. Your father’s out of town.”
That unease is back, nagging this time. “Where is he?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says, all nonchalant. “What did he say? Hmmm. Washington, maybe?”
“You don’t know where Dad went?” I ask, and Adrian arches an eyebrow at that, confirming this sounds as ridiculous to him as it does to me. I grimace and add, “You are still married, Mom, right?”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she snaps. “I trust him. We’ve been married a lifetime. And it’s business. He travels often. Back to our dinner.”
“I’m in the middle of a big trial,” I say. “And in case you’ve forgotten, it’s a dangerous trial. I have private security right now.”
“Security is good. Bring them along.”
My lips press together. She’s stubborn, but that’s nothing new. “Does this have anything to do with why Logan wants me to meet him?”
There’s a dead, three-beat silence she ends by saying, “Dinner tonight, Pri.” Her phone conveniently beeps, and she adds, “I need to go. I’ll see you there at seven.” She hangs up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
PRI
The minute that call with my mother ends, I’m walking toward the bedroom door. Or I try. Adrian catches my hand and steps into me. “What just happened and where are you going?”
“My mother wants to meet. And my father is out of town. I’m assuming in Chicago. That means he’s a part of what’s happening to you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do,” I say, and I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. And my chest is tight. The way it was when I was in that tunnel. I’m suffocating and this time in betrayal. “I feel it in my gut, Adrian, and my gut is never wrong. He recruited Logan out of Chicago. He’s well-connected there. Logan wants to meet tonight, so he must be here, not in Chicago. I don’t know why I didn’t think of my father in the first place. And my God, how could you even consider falling in love with a woman whose father is trying to destroy you?”
He cups my head and presses his forehead to mine. “You are not your father.” His hand settles on my face and he tilts my gaze to his. “And this Chicago thing is going nowhere. They have no evidence. I was never in Illinois. I know that. I stepped away from the kitchen just to take a moment to reason with myself. This is how this went. Deleon told whoever is behind this to use my brother against me because he knew it would rattle me. And it almost worked, but even if I had to defend myself over my brother—”
“Stop,” I order swiftly. “Stop before you say something you can’t take back.”
“You need to hear this,” he insists. “I’ve never killed anyone that wasn’t in self-defense, Pri. No one. That’s not who I am. I don’t know how the fuck I even forgot that fact. That’s why I didn’t kill Waters. And that’s why, even when I could have claimed self-defense, I didn’t kill Deleon.”
“I know all of that,” I say. “So does Blake. I’m just glad to hear that you’re giving yourself that credit.”
“Look, sweetheart, I know Waters. What he’s good at is manipulation. He hits you where you’re weak. That means, he’ll come at me over my brother and you.”
“Because I make you weak?”
“Because normal humans, which he is not, have emotional bonds. Those bonds make us stronger in most ways. However, it makes us vulnerable to monsters. That means he’ll come at you through your family and me.”
“And?” I ask. “Where are you going with this?”
“And we have to flip the switch and come at him.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet. I need to think a bit. I need to talk to Blake.” He strokes my hair. “Take a minute. Cool off. What you don’t want to do is react to any connection you find to your family in anger. That’s what he wants. And, sweetheart, you don’t know how he might be manipulating those you love.”
I inhale and let out a breath. “Right. That makes sense.”
“Blake knows where your father is already. We’ll go back upstairs, and we’ll dig into a real plan.”
I glance at my phone. “It’s already two. How is it two? I need to call the judge and follow up with Ed. And damn it.” My eyes go wide. “We just had sex, and I never took my pill. Please tell me it made it here.” I dart for the bathroom and start digging through the bags Walker brought me, sighing in relief when I find my pill package. I pop today’s dose out and down it, cupping my hand under the water to get it down.
I glance in the mirror at my smudged lipstick and quickly gloss my mouth. When I turn, Adrian’s standing in the doorway, and I swear every time I look at him, he gets a little hotter.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I close the space between us and press my hand to his chest, comfortable touching him now. That happened so fast. “The pills were here. I’m late taking it, but I’m sure we’re fine. That’s the last thing we need now. Me pregnant while we run for our lives.”
He studies me, his lashes half-veiled, expression unreadable. “Do you want kids, Pri?”
I blanch with the unexpected question. “I don’t know. I have a dysfunctional family and I don’t exactly have the safest life. And I think I’m a bit jaded about the world I’d bring a child into, you know? I guess, maybe, probably, right now, I feel like I’m a no. What about you?”
“The same,” he agrees. “It’s been a long time since I thought about family in any way but the past.”
There’s something about the way he says those words, that has me asking, “And now?” and holding my breath while I wait for a reply, though I’m not sure why.
“And now,” he says, “there’s Walker. And you, Pri.” He cups my face and leans in closer, his breath warm on my lips as he says. “I don’t know where any of this takes us, but you are—”
There’s a knock on the bedroom door and we both groan with the interruption of what felt meaningful, even necessary. A piece of a puzzle we are just fitting together, but that piece is now lost. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Adrian murmurs, stroking his thumb over my cheek before he releases me.
He backs up into the bedroom. I ease around into the room as he opens the door, and while I can’t see who’s at the door, I hear Blake say, “Royce and Lauren want to get you on a Zoom chat regarding your defense in about fifteen minutes. Alone. I set-up the office upstairs for you. And I’d like to have a chat one-on-one. Also alone.”
Adrian glances over his shoulder at me and I say, “Go. I’ll be up soon.”
He gives a nod and exits the room. He shuts the door behind him and I swear I feel it like a punch in the stomach. We’ve just sworn there is no goodbye coming. I know we both meant it, wh
ich is proof that we’ve come so far together, so quickly. But there is a truth here that we’ve just skimmed over because we want to be together. That truth is that my family being involved in this Waters issue—and they are—is a mountain of a problem. He says it’s not, but when he thinks about this, really thinks about this, the reality of this development is cold, bitterly cold.
Anyone trying to get him arrested on false charges logically knows he won’t come out of jail alive, and is, in my mind, complicit in attempted murder.
In other words, my family is trying to kill Adrian.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ADRIAN
I step into the office first, followed by Blake, and the only reason I notice the glass desk and a giant window with a view of the property is training and experience. Both have taught me to always know where I’m at and how I’ll leave. As promised, there’s a MacBook on the desk, ready for a Zoom call with Royce and Lauren, who is now my attorney. An attorney I need for complicated reasons that amount to my own decisions. Deleon and Waters are alive. My brother is dead. It’s about as fucked up as it gets.
Blake shuts the door and I face him. “Where is Pri’s father right now?”
“I see you figured things out,” he says dryly, leaning on the door, and crossing his arms in front of him.
A muscle in my jaw tics at the easy confirmation that Pri’s father is somehow involved in this bullshit. “He’s in Chicago,” I assume.
“No,” he says. “He’s actually in Houston meeting with an old friend from law school, a principal in the Milton, Murr, and Sheridan firm. Milton used to work in the DA’s office and his ex-wife is a judge. Guess where?”
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