She doesn’t continue toward my side of the mattress like I expect. Instead, she heads in the opposite direction, making my breathing falter for a second while I try to figure out why she’s moving to the left of the bed.
Slowly, she raises the covers, and I scowl through the darkness as I battle confusion.
Is she going to try to suffocate me? Really?
Of all the ways to attempt homicide, this is a shitty one. I’m so goddamn disappointed in her poor excuse for a murder plot that I gently glide my grip away from the gun to free both my hands. This way I’ll have the ability to shake some fucking sense into her.
Then the bed dips, and her weight nestles onto the mattress.
I hold my breath, my ears attuned to her movements, my muscles tense and poised for her strike.
But she doesn’t.
Slowly, silently, she inches under the covers as if preparing for a secret slumber party.
I keep waiting for the violence to start. I stare into the shadows and bite my tongue to stop myself from asking what the hell she’s doing, even though the answer is clear. She’s snuggling into the bed, her back toward me, her head on the pillow.
The question is—why?
Once she’s settled, she doesn’t move, not one fucking inch. She just lays there. Less than a foot away.
I don’t get it.
What’s her plan? What’s the strategy?
I remain on alert, waiting a lifetime for her to pounce.
Thirty minutes pass, and she still hasn’t budged. The only thing that changes is her breathing, the inhales deep, the exhales languid.
I don’t know what’s more fucked up—her freeing herself of the cable ties and escaping her room, only to crawl in bed beside the man who’s keeping her captive, or me for being the sick son of a bitch who relaxes under the wash of relief at having her close.
I’m one dumb fuck for ignoring the inner voice telling me she’s playing me. That everything she’s said and done has been one shovelful of bullshit after another. And this right here is merely another steaming load.
But it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard, when all I want to do is believe her.
No matter what I do, I can’t convince myself she’s the enemy. I struggle to see anything heinous and vindictive about her. Instead, I’ve battled with the obsession that comes with wanting her.
And maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the emotional exhaustion, but I’m too fucking tired to fight it anymore. I’m too battered and bruised, and not from Hunter’s beating. It’s the months spent searching for revenge I no longer think is achievable.
I want her—the Keira I had before she stabbed me in the back.
I crave the woman who needed my protection. The one I would’ve taken a bullet for.
I keep staring at her shadowed form, the minutes ticking while the world stands still. Nothing changes. Not the relaxation in her body. Not the deathly silence. Nothing but my restraint.
I’m drawn to her.
My palms sweat with the need to feel her soft skin.
I can’t fight the stupidity anymore. What’s the point in struggling, anyway? I’ve got nothing left to lose. I no longer care what happens. Not about anything other than touching her. My hands have to be on her. If that gives her the opportunity to effortlessly slit my throat, then so be it.
She can kill me.
She can bathe in my blood and increase the destruction her family has rained on mine because there’s nothing I can do to stop the pummeling thoughts that tell me she’s innocent. That I’m the one who’s treated her like hell and not the other way around.
I grab my gun, sliding it back under the far side of my pillow, and gently inch my way toward her. I listen for a change in her breathing. I continue to be attuned to her movements.
She doesn’t flinch.
I creep closer and closer, her heat seeping into me right before skin touches skin. That’s when everything stops. The gentle ebb and flow of sound ceases. She snaps rigid. I do, too.
But I don’t retreat. I can’t.
I nestle against her. Spooning. Her arms and thighs are bare against mine. The only thing between us is a thin cotton shirt and silken boxers as I weave my hand around her waist and drag her back into me.
She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t succumb either.
Her body remains tight, while I rest my head on her pillow and place a kiss to the back of her neck.
That’s all it is. A brief brush of lips against her skin, but it’s everything.
The show of affection is my acquiescence. My capitulation to the devil.
She sucks in a shuddering breath, and one by one those muscles loosen. I hold her. Cling to her. I don’t look forward to ever having to let her go.
“Sebastian…”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
I can’t face her questions. Her lies. I just need this. Her. For a little longer, until clarity sets in and I hate myself for succumbing all over again.
“Go to sleep.” I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. “We can keep fighting in the morning.”
The bullshit isn’t going anywhere. No matter how much I want her—need her—it doesn’t change our situation. We’re enemies, and that shit will never be resolved.
* * *
I wake up to her shifting in my arms. It’s only a faint movement, but I’m instantly alert, my eyes flashing open to the sunlight seeping through the edge of the curtains.
It’s late. If the brightness of the room is any indication, it’s close to midday.
I raise on one elbow, my swollen face and battered chest not appreciating the shift as I stare down at the woman in my arms. She’s still resting, her eyes closed, her body soft.
I no longer fight to understand the cloying feelings threatening to overwhelm me. Instead, I savor the calm. I teach myself to enjoy the temporary peace. Because it sure as fuck won’t last.
“You’re awake?” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I inch away from her, not wanting to crowd her now that the bitter light of day has arrived.
“Don’t go. Lay with me a little longer.”
She doesn’t open her eyes. She lets those words do the pleading for her. And that’s all it takes—her words, her tone, the delicate sweep of those sultry lips. I wish for nothing more than to go back to the safe house where neither one of us had a clue we were deceiving each other.
I miss that ignorance.
“There’s no point putting off the inevitable.” I keep backing away.
“Let me pretend for a few more minutes,” she begs. “I’m not ready for this to end.”
She slays me. And I’m the stupid chump who can’t fucking deny her. I can’t deny myself either.
I let out a frustrated breath and sink back onto the mattress, reclaiming my position behind her with my arm draped around her stomach.
We’re both insane.
We lie so much we can’t face the truth.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I hate those words. I despise how they make me feel like more of a man for providing her with what she needs. There’s nothing more unhealthy than the two of us together.
“Quit thanking me,” I mutter. “We’re not doing ourselves any favors by pretending.”
“This isn’t me pretending, Sebastian. This is me hoping you’ll come to your senses and find the strength to trust me.” Her hand finds mine, entwining our fingers. It’s all romantic and shit. A dreamy existence in a waking nightmare.
“You said it yourself, trust doesn’t come easily.”
She nods. “And yet I found the will to trust you.”
No, she didn’t. She doesn’t trust me at all.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she utters. “And you’re wrong. I do trust you. I trusted you enough to risk starting a rumor that would endanger everyone I love. I hope, in time, you’ll be able to look beyond your anger to see what really happened.”
There is no anger. Not anymore.
“Please tell me about your sister.” There’s a delicate edge to her tone. A fragility that rips me apart. Like she’s been contemplating how to ask for hours.
My defenses shoot up. All those barriers I’ve honed through a dark sense of humor and a morbid death wish come out in full force.
Telling her more about Penny isn’t something I should do. Yet it’s everything I crave at the same time.
“What do you want to know?” I become her slave, brushing my lips over her shoulder, the scent of her clean skin filling my lungs.
“Everything.” She squeezes my hand. “How old is she? What is she like? When was she taken?”
I focus on the freckles along her arm, determined not to close my eyes and face the sister who will stare back at me.
“She was…” Too young. Too sweet. Too vulnerable. “Smart.”
I place a kiss on her neck and swallow over the ache in my throat. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk about Penny. The last thing I want is for the world to forget her. “She always had her head buried in a book. But what she had in brains she lacked in life experience. She didn’t spend a lot of time in the real world.”
Keira doesn’t respond. She listens, never losing grip of my fingers.
“She didn’t wear make-up or dress in trendy clothes. She didn’t need to. She was pretty without all the glitz. Hell, from what I remember, she didn’t even pay the opposite sex much attention. Yet those high school boys were always testing my patience.”
“You were a protective older brother?”
“The worst.” I let out a breath of solemn laughter. “I remember this one guy who kept coming over because he wanted to hang out with her. Every time I’d tell him to get lost, but he wouldn’t listen. So I slashed his bike tires and told him I’d do the same to his throat if he ever stepped foot on our property again.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt either. I knew what he was after even though she had no clue.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never shied away from a fight.” She turns toward me, those bright eyes taking in the war wounds that must be littered all over my face.
“I got into a few. But nothing that wasn’t fueled by teenage hormones.” I give a half-hearted smirk that quickly fades. “After I finished school, I packed up and moved out of town, just like my older brother had done a few years before. We weren’t there to look out for her anymore. She had nobody to keep the assholes at bay.”
“You speak about her in past tense.” She pauses, the silence punishing.
“Yeah. I guess it’s easier that way.” My chest tightens with the coward’s admission.
“Do you have any proof she’s no longer alive?”
I swallow over the bile edging its way up my throat. “The Greek authorities like to think so. Her DNA at a shallow, burned out grave is enough to satisfy their investigation. But all they found was a tooth and some hair. Nothing substantial.”
“So there’s hope?”
“Hope?” My voice fractures. “No. I could never hope she was living through hell every day. I prefer to believe she’s at peace. But until I have concrete evidence, the thought of her suffering will haunt me.”
Her face crumples. “You blame yourself.”
“Yes. I should’ve listened when she told me about the modeling contract. She’d never mentioned stepping foot in front of a camera before. Not once. It came from so far left field that I didn’t ask the questions I should’ve. I got caught up in her excitement about traveling the world. All it would’ve taken was an internet search on your father’s bullshit company.”
“Then hold him accountable.” Her voice hardens. “Don’t blame yourself. It isn’t healthy.”
“If you haven’t noticed, none of this shit is healthy. My life is as fucked as they come. And yours isn’t any better.”
She winces and lowers her gaze to my chest. “If I could get my hands on a phone, I could sort this out. I’ll call Cole…”
I glare. “Is that what this is all about?” The bed? The proximity? The subtle manipulation? “You’re not getting your hands on a fucking phone.”
I shuffle backward toward the edge of the mattress, curing my stupidity. She’s screwed me all over again and every goddamn time I’m surprised.
“Please don’t.” She grabs my arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked for a phone. I wasn’t trying to betray you or escape. I just want to keep talking. I want us to get back to the way things were.”
“Back to when we were lying through our teeth? Why? What good can come from that?” I wait for a response to stop me from leaving. I honestly want her to say something to make me stay in this fantasy world. But what can possibly be said to change this situation?
There’s no righting all our wrongs.
There are too fucking many.
“I want to help you.” She implores me with sad eyes, her teeth nibbling into her lower lip. “Together we can make this right.”
I chuckle and shove from the mattress. “Nothing can make this right. The best I can hope for is a lifelong prison sentence for your father. That’s the end game. You can’t unrape all those women. Nobody can reverse the pain that’s already been inflicted.”
She sits up, bundling the covers in her lap. “That’s what I mean. I can help you get him arrested.”
I wish it were that easy. In fact, I’m pretty fucking pissed it isn’t. “You can’t help me. My cover is already blown. But you can work with the Feds—”
She shakes her head. “I won’t work with the authorities. I’ll work with you. We can do this together. You can’t give up now.”
“I’m not giving up,” I grate, hating the accusation. Fighting for my sister is all I have… Had… The battle is out of my hands now.
“Then what do you call it?” she asks.
I clench my teeth and ball my fists. “I call it self-fucking-preservation.”
She scrambles from the bed. “My father needs to be stopped. You can’t walk away now.”
“Do you think I want to walk?” Fury spreads through me like wildfire. “I’ve got no fucking choice but to run.” I can’t stop my voice from rising. “You ratted me out. Hunter knows I’m the informant. And by now Cole and Sarah would too. I can’t get inside information anymore. I’m useless. Everything I’ve worked for is gone.”
Her face pales.
“The rest of my life will be spent hiding from your brother, Keira, and that’s only if Hunt doesn’t get to me first.”
Her throat works over a heavy swallow. “I’ll speak to my brother.”
“Words won’t change the level of my betrayal. Your brother is going to fucking kill me the first chance he gets.”
“I have more power than you think. Have faith in me.”
I wish I could. Seriously, I do. But my fate is set. I either hide or die.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I stalk for the bathroom, needing to lock myself away from her deluded beliefs. I can’t be the one to make her feel better about this, no matter how much I want to.
“Sebastian, wait.”
She rushes after me, almost making the distance before I close the door on her.
“Please.” She pleads through the barrier between us. “I’ll figure something out. Let me talk to Cole.”
I smother a derisive laugh. She’ll talk to him—a guy with unfathomable determination when it comes to slaying his enemies. I bet that conversation goes down like a cheerleader at an after party.
I strip and climb into the shower, not bothering to wait for the water to warm before I sink under the harsh chill.
“Please, Sebastian.”
Christ. This woman doesn’t let up.
I step under the spray and raise my swollen face to the water. The pain blocks out her pleas as I rest one hand against the tile to keep myself upright.
/>
Talking to Cole won’t change a thing. No matter what she says to try to convince him I’m innocent, he won’t spare a second thought when it comes to ending my life. I’ve known that all along. I set out for revenge knowing I’d have little chance to make it out alive. The likelihood of getting caught was always high.
At least I have a head start to escape.
Once I freshen up, I’ll pack a few of my brother’s things and flee. I can cross multiple state borders before dark. And I’ll keep crossing them, changing cars and IDs along the way—
A foreign noise breaks me from my plans, and I lean my head toward the glass shower screen to listen.
The door jangles. She’s trying to pick the fucking lock.
I huff out a defeated breath as she breaks in. I’ve gotta give it to her, she’s persistent as shit.
She approaches me, the sight of her taking up my peripheral vision.
“I can fix this.” Her determination bears down on me from the other side of the glass. My dick isn’t immune. Her tenacity is sexy as hell, no matter how hard I battle to ignore it.
I slink back under the water, keeping my head bowed, my hand against the tile.
“Sebastian…” She opens the screen. “Let me talk to Cole. I can work this out. I’ll bet my life on it.”
I don’t respond. Well, apart from my cock that continues to thicken.
“Sebastian,” she snaps. “Listen to me.” She steps inside the shower, sliding along the wall in front of me, her shoulder grazing my splayed hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl.
“You should know that I hate when you ignore me.”
“Yeah, I do. But this isn’t a place you want to be right now.”
She sighs. “Yes, it is. We need to work this out.”
“Not right now, we don’t.” I straighten, backing away from her. “Get out of here.”
“Not until you listen to me. Cole will—”
“No. You listen to me.” I narrow my stare. “Comprehending this conversation would be problematic at the best of times. But when I’m hard as a fucking rock, there’s absolutely no chance. So I suggest you get out of my face.”
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