by Ava Bloom
I shook my head. “Don’t you see how much worse that is?”
He stared up at me, eyes wide, all smugness wiped from his face.
“It would be more admirable if you were a committed villain. If you were here because tormenting innocent women and hunting them in their homes was your passion. But being a weak asshole who will do anything for money? That’s embarrassing.”
“I’ll leave,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ll leave and never come back. I’ll forget her address. Just don’t kill me.”
For a millisecond, I considered it. I considered walking away, letting the little rat scurry away to his hole and hide. But when the knife eased away from his neck, he brought his knee up to try and hit me in the groin. He missed, but it was obvious he had no intention of backing down. So, I plunged the knife into his neck.
Blood spurted out in bursts timed with the slowing beat of his heart, but I didn’t stay to watch the light fade from his eyes. I grabbed my gun, stepped over the growing pile of blood, and walked towards Jade’s door.
The room was still dark, and her door was closed. With the man’s blood covering my hand, my blood pouring down my side, and the adrenaline scorching through my veins, I hesitated outside her door. I needed to know what I was walking into. How much I could handle. I wouldn’t be any use to Jade if I was subdued the moment I burst through the door. But there was another layer, as well. Fear.
What if she wasn’t on the other side? What if she was gone? Or worse, what if the small man’s accomplice had killed her and escaped?
Slowly, so slowly, I turned the doorknob. As soon as the door was cracked, I heard a deep rumble. It took me a second to realize it was a man’s voice. I pressed my ear to the crack.
“There’s no sense fighting,” the man whispered. “Resist me, and I’ll throw you over the fire escape. I don’t care if you end up a pancake on the cement.”
“What do you want?” Jade asked shakily.
There was a long pause where the only sound I could hear was the rustle of fabric. I prayed my imagination was worse than reality. “I made it clear the first night we met what I wanted. I got a little taste, and I’m ready for the whole piece now.”
“You’re repulsive,” Jade spat.
There was the sound of a scuffle and then Jade whimpered. “Talk to me like that, and I won’t be gentle. Come on.”
As soon as I heard the window rattle, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I threw open the door, the knob punching into the wall and sticking, and aimed my gun at the burly man with his arm around Jade’s waist. He hugged her to him like a shield.
He was already standing on the fire escape, but Jade was balanced on the windowsill, her legs still in her bedroom. She jolted as I came in and then let out a sob, pulling against the man’s grip to try and get to me.
“I’ll throw her over the side,” the man warned, tightening his hold on her dress. It was all askew, practically falling off of her. His hand was right under one of his breasts, and when he saw me looking at it, he shifted it a little higher.
I didn’t know if he was telling the truth about throwing her over or if, given their positioning, it was even possible, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Let her go,” I said, closing one eye until my barrel was positioned, aimed straight for his forehead. “Just let her walk away.”
“So you can shoot me? No thanks.” The man had a wobbly set of chins and a soupy stomach hidden beneath a too large t-shirt that still did nothing to hide the heft of him. It was a wonder he’d made it up the stairs at all. I could outrun him easily. “I’d rather keep her as my human shield and take my chances with you hand to hand. Looks like you are already injured, so that puts the odds in my favor.”
Jade scanned me and stopped at the blood leaking through my shirt. She went pale, and I wanted to tell her I was alright, but there would be time later. When we got out of this situation.
“Are you factoring your friend in to your escape?” I asked. “Because he’s bleeding out in the living room.”
“Barely even know him,” he shrugged. “We just met for the first time a couple weeks ago.”
I study him for a moment to see if he is bluffing, but his lack of reaction seems genuine. Faith really hired a couple of psychos.
“I’m only here for her,” he snarled, pressing his cheek against the top of Jade’s head. In that position, Jade was too close. If I shot him, I had just as good a chance of hitting her. I lowered my gun slightly.
Silent tears were running down Jade’s cheeks, but her chin was lifted, her shoulders straight. She was frightened, but hadn’t given up in the slightest. Our eyes met, and without a single word or gesture, she wrenched one arm free of the large man’s grip, drove her elbow into the man boob where his heart would have been if he’d had one, and then ducked to the left.
And I pulled the trigger.
The window pane shattered, but the bullet found its mark. The man died with his mouth open in a grunt, his face wrinkled and creased in surprise.
13
JADE
I DIDN’T TURN around when the man’s arm slipped from my waist. Not even when I heard the thud of his body crashing down the stairs. I kept my eyes on Logan.
He was bleeding, injured from protecting me, but still, his first concern was for me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, one of his hands coming up to cup my cheek. I noticed his other hand, the one tucked behind his back, was covered in blood. I wondered if it was his own. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, no,” I said, face soaked with tears. “I’m fine. Are you okay? We need to call someone?”
“It’s just a slash,” he said, but he winced when I wrapped an arm around him to help him into the living room.
But Logan hesitated in the doorway.
“What is it? Can you walk?” I asked.
“Yes, but,” he looked down at the floor. “I killed a man in there.”
“In here, too,” I said, tipping my head back towards the shattered window.
“Yeah, but…” his voice faded away and then he took a deep breath and his next words came out in a rush. “I didn’t have to kill the other guy. I could have knocked him out. But I didn’t. I stabbed him in the neck because of what he did to you. Because of what he wanted to do to you. And I’m not sure I’m ready for you to see that side of me.”
Logan’s eyes were downcast, his mouth in a thin lip. He was ashamed of what he’d done, and my heart split in two. I pivoted around him until we were chest to chest, and I grabbed his face and kissed him. I kissed him until the fear in my blood was replaced with something warmer, softer. Until I didn’t smell the metal of blood, but Logan. Until all of his worries were gone.
I pressed my forehead to his and closed my eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You saved my life, and I would never judge you for that. Ever.”
Logan took a deep breath, hissing as his ribs expanded and the slash on his side smarted. “You’re too good for me, Jade. Far too good for me.”
“Maybe,” I said, smirking up at him. “But that doesn’t change the facts.”
His eyes narrowed. “Facts?”
Even with all the destruction around us, the smell of death in the air, I wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. I tangled my fingers in the blonde hair at the base of his neck, clinging on to him. “I am in love with you, Logan Richard.”
Suddenly, he was all around me. His hands on my back, his thighs pressed against mine, and we were kissing. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. Kissing Logan would be a good way to go. When he finally pulled away, he stroked his clean hand down my chin. “I love you, too, Jade.”
“That is very convenient,” I said, my entire body blushing.
“It certainly makes things easier,” he said, nuzzling my cheek.
We kissed again, but I pulled away this time. “As nice as this is, I think we should call the police.”
“Oh, shit. Yeah,” Logan said, fumbl
ing for his phone.
And in spite of everything, I laughed.
EPILOGUE
Six Months Later
Bella
* * *
“IT NEEDS to go to the left more.”
Logan groaned. “Are we trying to center it with the wall or the window.”
I stepped back. “Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking about that.”
Logan dropped the dresser and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not touching that thing again until you’re sure. With all of your clothes in it, it’s heavy.”
“Your clothes are in there, too.” I kicked playfully at his ankle.
He dodged me and narrowed his eyes. “Either way, the next time I move it will be the last, so figure it out.”
I continued staring at the dresser and Logan flopped back on the bed. That had been the first thing we’d unpacked in the loft. Even before we had walls for the bathroom, we had a four-poster bed with sheer white curtains hanging from the corners. And we put it to good use.
“I just wish the window was on the other wall,” I said, holding my thumb up to the bare wall to the right of the bed.
“That would give us a lovely view of the loft next door.” Logan waved at the wall. “Don’t mind us. I’m just ravishing my girlfriend in bed. Feel free to watch if you’d like.”
I lunged for the bed and slapped his chest. “You’re gross.”
He grabbed my hand and kissed my fingers. “And you’re a terrible interior decorator.”
I gasped and clutched at my chest like I’d been wounded. “Excuse me?”
“You’re doing a great job,” he amended. “But at my expense. I’ve had to move everything in this loft multiple times because you couldn’t decide whether the library should go in our bedroom or the guest room. Or whether the dining room should go where the living room is. It has been a nightmare.”
I pouted out my lower lip at him. “Oh, you poor thing. I feel so bad for you.”
Suddenly, he rolled me onto my back and was straddling me, my arms pinned above my head. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine, his lips tantalizingly close. “You keep it up, and our neighbors won’t need a window to know what is going on in here.”
My stomach flipped, and I would have done whatever he wanted. I would have let him ravish me in the middle of the afternoon, window or no window. But Logan kissed my cheek and jumped to his feet. “But that wouldn’t be a very nice way to meet them.”
“Who?” I asked, my head fuzzy from his proximity.
“Our new neighbors,” he said. “I’ve seen glimpses of them moving their stuff in. They are an older couple, and I don’t want to make a bad first impression.”
“I don’t know,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back, knowing it drove Logan wild. “You seem to like my sex noises. Maybe they are hippies, and they’d find it all to be in the spirit of love and peace or something.”
Logan’s eyes were glued to my body as he shook his head. “He had on a bowling shirt. And I saw her moving in a ceramic cat.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”
“Yeah, but the shop looks really cool,” he said. “They got rid of all the black paint and the industrial furniture. With bright walls and smaller tables, it looks huge. I’d get my morning coffee there.”
“I wonder if it will still be free.” I frowned. “Paying for coffee again would be a bummer.”
Logan leaned against the wall next to his end table, arms crossed. “Yeah, but if they don’t hire people to try and kill you, then it is a clear improvement.”
“True.”
He smiled at me, but I could see the apprehension behind it. We didn’t talk about Faith much. Mostly because her betrayal hurt so much. I’d thought we were friends, and in the end, she was willing to sacrifice me for her own success. Even still, I didn’t make an official report to the police. The men were dead, and I was ready to be done with all of it. With her.
But somehow—Logan swore he had no idea how—word got around that Faith had orchestrated everything. A local paper picked it up, and before long, she was the one dealing with threatening notes and shattered shop windows. After sticking it out for a month, numbers dwindling lower and lower each day, she finally packed it up and moved back home. Wherever in the hell that was for her. I didn’t ask or say goodbye. And now we had new neighbors. A middle-aged couple who wore bowling shirts and had ceramic cats. I could deal with that.
Logan looked at the wall behind the bed and tilted his head to the side. “Is the big canvas you finished yesterday a commission?”
“No. Just something I did for fun. Why?”
“Where is it?” he asked.
“In the storage closet.”
He was already halfway out the door, and several minutes later, he came back in, arms stretched to their full width to haul the painting around.
“You want that in here?” I asked, surprised. “It’s an unusual color palette.”
He kicked off his shoes and stepped up on the bed, pressing the canvas against the wall. “What’s so unusual about hot pink and turquoise?”
“I planned to paint over it in the next couple weeks,” I admitted. “It was just for fun.”
Logan leaned back as far as he could. “This is the street in front of the studio, right?”
I nodded.
Then, he hiked his leg up in an awkward position to use his knee to point to a squiggly blob parked against the curb. “And whose maroon car is that?”
I didn’t think he’d notice. It was such a small detail. Only recognizable as a car because of the slash of sky-blue paint where the windshield would be.
“Because if I’m not mistaken, it looks a lot like mine,” he said. Then, he leaned forward and used his nose to point to the side. “And those two people, the woman with long black hair and the blonde man with a beard—do they remind you of anyone?”
“They are us,” I said. “But it was just—”
Logan leaned the painting against our pillows and sat on his knees next to me, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips. “It is perfect, and I want it. I’ll even buy it from you if I have to.”
I bit my lower lip. “You really like it?”
He kissed my knuckle and smiled. “Jade, I love it.” He turned back to the canvas and smiled. “It is the two of us walking hand in hand to your studio. To our loft. To the rest of our lives together. It is everything I could ever want. What do you say?”
Tears were welling in my eyes, and I looked up at the ceiling to keep them at bay. “Fine. We can hang it above the bed.”
He laughed. “Not about the canvas.”
I frowned at him, brows pulled together. “What are you—”
Before I could get the words out, Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small black box. “I meant, what do you say to spending the rest of our lives together?”
I stared at him for several seconds, trying to decide if this was a really weird, cruel joke or not. Logan’s smile faltered. “I know it has only been six months, and we’ve already fixed up this loft and moved in together. We are moving really fast, but I’m ready for this. And if you aren’t, then I can hit the brakes. I don’t want you to be under any pressure because I can wait. I just thought—”
I closed the space between us quickly, violently, pushing him back on the bed, the ring box tumbling to the floor. I kissed him until my lips were raw from the scratch of his beard, until opening my eyes and seeing daylight burned. But when I did open my eyes, Logan was laying under me, his green eyes bright and shining.
“Is that a yes?”
Just in case he didn’t get the message the first time, I kissed him again, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and holding him against me. Then, I answered him, breathless. “Yes, it’s a yes. I’ll spend forever with you.”
We stayed tangled up that way until hunger forced us to get up, and I completely forgot about the ring until later. It was beautiful, of
course, but that hardly mattered. I would have married him if he’d tied a dandelion around my finger.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
1. Jade
2. Logan
3. Jade
4. Logan
5. Jade
6. Logan
7. Logan
8. Jade
9. Logan
10. Jade
11. Jade
12. Logan
13. Jade
Epilogue
More by Ava Bloom
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