by Snow, Jenika
He took a step back, breathing heavily, the taste of blood filling his mouth. The crowd roared, but Adrian didn’t care about anything or anyone expect her. He searched the throng of spectators, searching for the only person who mattered to him. When he saw Brea, his heart started beating harder, faster. Yeah, he was way over his head when it came to her, but God did he embrace it.
He wasn’t letting her go.
18
Brea set down the Buttery Nipple and Corona in front of Tristan and Kash. Tristan sat on Kash’s lap, his thick, tattooed arm slung over her shoulder. He murmured something into her ear, which had her grinning and smacking his chest playfully. Ever since she’d met Tristan that first time, their relationship had grown to what she considered friends.
God, friends. It had been so long since she’d had genuine ones, since she’d allowed herself to be close to anyone.
Tristan leaned forward, shouting over the drum of noise that surrounded them. “I know we don’t hang out as much as we should, but I was wondering if you’d like to come to dinner at our place next weekend? It won’t be anything big, just a few of our friends. We’re celebrating Kash’s birthday.”
Before she could answer, she heard glass breaking. Turning her attention toward the sound, she saw two guys getting into a brawl before the bouncers were on them, breaking it up.
“We’ll talk later,” Tristan yelled out over the music and grinned.
Brea made her rounds and then headed back to the bar to get the drink orders filled. As she waited, she looked over her shoulder at the cage, saw Adrian watching her intently, the guy at his feet out cold, blood covering the whiteness of the mat. He was ushered out moments later, disappearing in the sea of bodies.
As she waited for her drink order, she closed her eyes and exhaled. Lifting her arm, she rubbed the back of her neck. She was tired and sore, and it wasn’t even the kind that left a pleasurable hum in her body.
She felt big arms wrap around her, and the spicy male scent of Adrian washed through her.
“You know, watching you makes it hard as hell to concentrate.”
She grinned. The sound of his voice was like verbal sex. Brea turned around in his arms and craned her neck to look at him. He was a big man, but no matter how much he towered over her, no matter how intimidating he might be, he always made her feel safe.
“You shouldn’t let things distract you,” she said on a grin. She placed a hand on his belly, felt the muscles ripple beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, and melted against him.
Everything was so very masculine about him. When he leaned down, his breath stirred the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun. A shiver moved through her at the sound of his deep voice.
“I can’t think of a better distraction that would cost me a fight than the image of you.”
It took all her willpower to place her other hand on his stomach and push him away. “You’re going to get me fired if you keep this up.” She grinned, at the moment not caring if she did lose her job over this.
He backed away, his hands raised in surrender, a lopsided grin on his face. “How about we pick this up later tonight at my place?”
Mouth gone dry, she pictured all the things they would “pick back up.” All she could do was nod her response. His grin was sexy as sin.
“You get off soon, right?” She nodded again. “Good.” He took a step toward her and placed his arms on the bar on either side of her. “Meet me at the main doors.” A soft, lingering kiss on her cheek was the only thing she got before he turned and was swallowed by the crowd once again.
Sagging against the bar, she licked her lips. God, she was getting in way over her head. It felt good.
When she turned back around, giving Travis, the bartender on duty, another drink order, all she could think about was Adrian naked. It was enough to make a woman lose her sanity.
Someone bumped into her, jostling her against the bar. It wasn’t unusual for her to get a little battered while working in the underground. There were just too many people walking around, too much adrenaline pumping through the room. Everyone wanted to see the violence, smell the sweat and taste the blood.
The next shove had someone’s hand brushing against the back of her thigh. She turned around, her heart seizing as she swore she saw Cameron in the distance, looking at her right before he disappeared in the crowd.
No, that wasn’t him. He isn’t here.
Searching the crowd proved that her imagination had ahold of her. Cameron wasn’t here. It was impossible, right? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to work. She was ruined, a shell of a woman that always looked over her shoulder because her demons followed her.
What she needed to do was get to the shooting range, fire off a few bullets, and relieve some of her tension, picture those slugs going into the center of Cameron’s head.
What kind of relationship could she have? What kind of woman could she be to Adrian when she couldn’t get a grasp of herself?
But I love him.
God, she did.
19
Several days later
The protective glasses that were required for all shooters to wear were securely on the bridge of Brea’s nose. The Colt .45 in her hand felt good. Damn good, and when she took her spot and lifted her arms, aiming the barrel at the black paper body, she pictured Cameron staring back at her.
Anger was an emotion she was familiar with, harbored and stored away until she needed to channel it toward the one person who had ruined everything. She was sick of being a victim, sick of letting everything he’d done ruin what she could have.
She’d avoided Adrian for the most part these last few days, making up excuses on why they couldn’t see each other. It’s not like she didn’t want to, but more because she knew if she saw him, he’d see something was wrong. The very nightmare that she’d possibly seen Cameron in the club stuck to her, consuming her. It had the fear running strong within her.
If she told him, he’d worry, and she knew what she’d seen all those days ago, the image of Cameron, had just been her fear manifesting itself.
There’d been plenty she’d told Adrian, and she should be thankful he wanted to protect her, but the truth was she hated that his strength was what she craved, that his protection made her feel whole. Brea needed to find that for herself, needed to see herself as a woman who could handle the horrors that faced her.
Adrian did care for her, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him or make him worry needlessly. That little thought made her realize she was going to do just that eventually. She knew she couldn’t stay in this town, but what she’d come to realize was that she could be happy, could have a life with him.
She could tell him her plans, and everything would be okay. Her time with Adrian had proved as much. So she’d tell him all of this, her fears and worries, the fact she’d have to leave … that she wanted him to come with her.
Finger curved around the trigger, she closed one eye and kept her arm steady.
Right through the center of the forehead.
When her barrel was empty, she brought her target forward, the paper sliding on the mechanical track. When it was right in front of her, she set her pistol down and removed her glasses. Five bullet holes were centered in the chest and the sixth was right between the eyes. A satisfied grin had her lips curling up. This always made her feel better, even if everything else in her life was fucked up beyond repair.
She packed her stuff up and made her way toward her car. Some of her tension was gone from shooting, but there was always that sliver that hung on, refusing to let go. Keys in hand because she never walked to her car without the teeth of each one between her fingers, she scanned the parking lot. Every move she made had her watching over her shoulder, making sure she wasn’t being watched, followed. Maybe it was habit, but she liked to think of it as survival.
The parking lot was pretty much deserted given the fact it was early in the morning on
a weekday, but she was always cautious. A black car was parked several spaces down from her, and although it wasn’t something that should have set off warning bells, it did. The windows were tinted, even the windshield, illegally so. The sound of the engine was rough, like a wild animal growling. She couldn’t see the driver, but she had the eerie feeling that whoever was behind that wheel was staring right at her.
When another car pulled into the spot right next to hers, a beast of a truck that blocked her view, she quickly climbed into her car. When she was on the main road, she glanced in her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding left her when she realized the dark car was still parked in the lot.
She had a lot of things to figure out, a lot of demons to extinguish. But first she’d talk to Adrian, tell him all of it … ask him to leave with her.
* * *
The following day
Adrian nursed a beer and stared at the wall behind the bar that housed the bottles of liquor that would make sure everyone at tonight’s fight would be good and liquored up. She’d been avoiding him for the last few days, and he was getting antsy as fuck over it. Something was wrong, but maybe she just needed space? Pushing her could send her in the other direction despite the fact they were making progress, growing closer.
He took another long pull from his beer and dropped his head, tracing the worn lines on the top of the bar with his gaze and trying to figure out what he was going to do to.
The feel of his phone vibrating in his pocket had him grabbing it and thanking small miracles that it was Brea.
“Thank fuck,” he muttered right before answered the call. “Brea. Damn, baby. I’m going crazy over here.” A beat of silence passed.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about going radio silent on you. I was thinking and dealing with shit, but I shouldn’t have locked you out like that. It wasn’t right.”
“Can we talk later tonight?”
“Of course.” Anxiety grew inside of him, and he felt every one of his systems reacting to the rush of adrenaline.
“There are some things we should talk about, that I need to be honest with you about.” She sounded forlorn. “And I want to be honest with you. It’s why I’ve backed off these few days. I needed to clear my head.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He heard her exhale and wished he was there with her. “How about I come to your place? I’ll bring dinner.” Shit, hearing her voice was like a drug to him, having the synapses in his brain firing off, needing more, craving it.
“Okay, that sounds good, perfect in fact.”
He felt himself relax at the relieved sound in her voice.
“I’ll see you then,” she said softly, sweetly.
“I love you, Brea.” Yeah, he was done pretending like he could hold his emotions in check where she was concerned. He’d tell her every damn day he loved her, make sure she knew how cared about she really was.
“I love you, too.”
His heart did a little jump in his chest at the sound of her saying that. Shit, that would never get old. They hung up, and Adrian downed the rest of his beer and stood. Heart pounding at the mere thought of seeing Brea, he couldn’t help the smile that covered his face.
There was nothing better in this world than the love of a woman, and Adrian had that tenfold, felt it.
He wasn’t going to fuck this up. He was going to make sure Brea knew exactly what he’d do for her, the lengths he’d go. She feared her ex, was afraid he’d find her. Hell, Adrian had the same worries. Tonight he’d put it all on the table, ask her to go with him, leave this fucking town, everything and everyone. They could set up roots somewhere else, just the two of them, together.
She’d never have to be afraid again. And if that motherfucker found them, well … Adrian would make sure he was nothing but a broken pile of bones at his feet. Anyone who hurt Brea, threatened her, frightened her, would deal with him. And a man protective of the woman he loved was pretty fucking dangerous.
20
The following day
They’d talk tonight. That scared the shit out of Brea, but there was also this closure she felt, this peace at the knowledge she’d finally be honest with him. Although she didn’t have nearly enough saved up like she’d planned, she had a nice nest egg that would get her far enough away that she could put even more distance between her and her past.
After pulling into her driveway, she let the car idle for a minute, trying to clear her thoughts but failing miserably. Grabbing her purse and cutting off the engine, she opened the driver’s side door and climbed out. The wind picked up, moving strands of her hair over her face. The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nose, the smell of summer strong.
Although she had no real roots here, she had made friends with Kash and Tristan. She’d have to tell them goodbye, explain as much as she could but still keep them safe. Brea might not be able to be fully honest with them, but it was only because she cared about them, because she didn’t want her baggage tossed in their direction.
The street was quiet, but the sound of an approaching car had her looking over her shoulder. Coming down the street was a dark car. The closer it got, the more familiar it looked.
Illegally tinted windows and windshield.
The same car that had been at the shooting range.
Her heart dropped into her belly, and her mouth instantly went dry. It drove slowly, far too slow to appear normal.
The car or the house?
She asked that question over and over again, wasting time, needing to put her plan into motion to get out of this.
Her throat tightened, and she faced forward, making her way toward her front door at a brisk pace. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t Cameron.
And maybe it’s evil reincarnate right outside your door.
Keys in hand, she tried to unlock the door, but her fingers were so shaky it made the task nearly impossible. A look over her shoulder now showed the car parked right in front of her house. And then the driver’s side door opened and he stepped out … the very devil himself.
Calm. Relax. Concentrate.
Looked like the house was the safest, closest thing for her to get to.
Calm.
Relax.
Concentrate.
She told herself that over and over again as she slid the key into the lock and disengaged it. She needed inside, needed to get to her gun, set the alarm off … make a plan to escape. It was smarter heading inside where the alarm could go off and alert the police. She had a chance that way instead of getting in her car.
The sound of the door unlocking had her heart beating faster. Once inside the alarm started going off like crazy, the beeping noise earsplitting. She let it go off as she shut and locked the door.
Brea immediately dropped to her knees and grabbed her duffel bag from under the bench.
Her gun should have been on the top of her clothes, loaded, locked and ready. She grabbed the zipper, her fingers sweaty, the metal cool in her grasp. But as she opened the bag, dug around frantically, the realization hit her like a brick to the face.
No gun.
Sweat covered her temple and slid down the valley between her breasts. Before she could stand, three hard raps sounded on her door. Everything stopped around her as she stared at the only thing separating her and Cameron.
The sound of her heart beating fast and hard filled her ears. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and it was then that she realized she was biting her lip hard enough to break the skin.
Everything else faded; the sound of the alarm, her heart, her nerves.
The feel of perspiration sliding between her breasts was a distraction, but she didn’t have time to let her fear seize her. She dumped her purse out, the contents scattering everywhere. Her hands shook as she moved the items around, searching desperately for her phone, for her pepper spray, for anything she could use as a weapon.
Everything went in slow motion. She needed to get
another weapon, a big butcher knife, something to protect herself.
She grabbed her phone, found the spray, and started dialing.
Nine.
One.
One.
Before she could hit send, before she could run into the kitchen for that knife, there was a loud crash behind her. She screamed just as pain exploded in the back of her head.
And then she was helpless as the darkness took over.
21
A haze of disorientation covered Brea like a warm blanket. She could feel wetness on her face, and it took her a moment to realize it was tears. She’d been crying? Something covered her mouth. Tape? The lights seemed too bright as she opened her eyes. Pain pounded in the back of her skull and she tried to lift her hand to the source, but the realization that they were bound behind her had panic and fear taking root.
Everything was a blurred mass of shapes and colors, and when her vision cleared, she saw she was in her living room. The confusion was a fog, a thick presence that had her closing her eyes and moaning, not remembering what had happened, just that reality nagged at the back of her mind.
“Ah, finally awake.”
That voice. Evil. Saccharine and causing her stomach to clench in distaste.
“Don’t struggle, love. You know that’ll only make the knots tighter.”
Oh God. No.
A choked sob left her, and she cried harder. How had this happened? She’d taken great care to make sure she wasn’t put in this situation again.
The alarm.
The name change.
Moving.
The gun.