by Amanda Perry
All I can do is stare at him and shake my head. Words won’t form on my tongue. Every bone in my body screams at me to run and run fast. To find a place to hide where no one will ever find me. The problem with that is it puts my family in more danger, which is unacceptable.
Maverick must realize he won’t get anything from me right now. He lets my shoulders go and takes a knee in front of me. He picks up the note I dropped and reads it quickly. “Son of a bitch.”
He jumps to his feet, drops the note on the desk, then pulls his phone from his back pocket. He dials a number, puts the phone to his ear, and wraps his free arm around me, pulling me flush to his chest. My body vibrates against his as the shaking continues to get worse.
I hear the distinct click of someone answering on the other end of Maverick’s phone and a muffled voice. Maverick’s reply is short and clipped. “We need the three of you at Taylor’s work, now.” He hangs up the phone and stuffs it back into his pocket, then wraps me tight in both arms. He rests one hand on the small of my back and the other on the back of my head, securing me to him. “I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”
He rests his lips against the top of my head, breathing me in as he holds me while we wait for the guys to show up.
When Marak, Allistar, and Syn rush into my office about twenty minutes later, they find me and Maverick in the same position. Before anyone can say a word, Allistar pulls me from Maverick’s arms and holds me tightly. He runs his hands up and down my back, almost like he’s convincing himself I’m not physically hurt. “Are you okay, Taylor?”
My only answer is a shake of my head against his chest. Nothing about this is okay, and I’m not going to lie and say it is.
Allistar tightens his arms around me in one more hug before he turns me to face the others. He keeps one arm around my waist with my back to his front as if it’s totally normal to touch and hold me in front of the whole damn world. “What happened, Maverick?”
Maverick points to the flowers and the note on the desk. “Someone sent these to Taylor, the note was already touched by me and her so don’t pick it up. I set it face up for you three to see, though. We need to bag it and send it to the lab. Maybe the fucker slipped up, and we can get some prints.”
Syn and Marak lean over the desk to peer down at the note. The moment they finish reading the note is obvious. Both tense up, and Marak hangs his head and sucks in a few deep breaths while Syn lets out a string of curses under his breath.
Curiosity gets the better of Allistar and he finally releases his hold on me to check the note out for himself. “Christ. This guy is twisted. We’ve dealt with sick bastards before, but this guy makes the top ten.”
I know why they’re all upset. The note itself doesn’t contain only words. The picture attached to the note is horrible. It’s me next to the cop car on the night my window was shot out. In the picture, my eyes gaze down at the police officer in horror. The person who took the picture was obviously incredibly close to get such a detailed photograph. It’s easy to make out the cop in the picture as well, something I never wanted to see again.
The words of the note ring through my mind on an endless loop.
You did this to him. His children have no father, his wife has no husband, and it is all your fault, Taylor. How many others will you kill? All you must do is come to me, where you belong.
A muted sob escapes, and in an instant, Marak is in front of me. His hands cup my cheeks. “He’s wrong, Taylor. Don’t let this get to you, don’t let him have that power over you.” His thumb swipes away a traitorous tear. “None of this is your fault, and no one blames you for what happened.”
“One thing is clear, though,” Syn says, his brows drawn together. “This guy is willing to kill to get Taylor. We knew he could be violent, but now, we can officially add murder to his list of crimes. He all but admitted it.”
Allistar nods in agreement. “Maybe we should teach Taylor some self-defense.” He looks over to me. “Do you know how to fight at all?”
With a sniffle and a deep breath, I regain some of my composure. “Only what you guys have experienced.”
The four of them cringe in unison, probably recalling our initial meetings and the balls that got hurt in the process. It’s the easiest defense when a guy is after you. They’re not expecting it most of the time, and they always cry like little babies. Girls get kicked in the cooter or punched in the tit, and we don’t scream like someone set us on fire. Whoever said men were stronger was a damn liar and probably a man.
“Okay, yeah.” Syn coughs, his face still scrunched in memory of the pain. “We need to teach you how to actually defend yourself, not just taking a shot at the plums.”
“Plums?” I scoff and glance down at his crotch. “You mean grapes?”
While the others laugh, Syn shoots me a look that promises retribution.
Allistar shakes his head, then brings us back to the topic. “I’ll teach you some techniques for fighting, Taylor. We can start tonight.”
“Why only you?” I ask.
“Well, Maverick is too demanding and hardcore, Syn doesn’t have the patience, and Marak would be afraid of hurting you. None of them would do you any good trying to teach you anything like that. They’d just frustrate themselves and you. So that leaves me.” He pauses and quirks one eyebrow. “Unless you don’t want to work with me.”
“I don’t mind.” My tone says it doesn’t matter to me, but my mind screams pretty please, yes, and can you be shirtless in the process.
I am so far beyond messed up in the head. Already, I’ve straddled a mostly naked Syn, and if I’m being honest with myself, the amount of clothing between us was a bummer. I slept with Marak, and it was the most amazing experience ever. Then I kissed Maverick a few hours ago, and I never wanted to stop. Now the picture of Allistar all hot and sweaty from a workout won’t leave my mind. All of this while I’m being stalked by McCreepearson. I should wear a sign that reads, Sex-addicted, dirty-minded freak.
“Let’s get this shit to the lab and get out of here. We need to go over the surveillance videos in the building, see if we can find who put the flowers and the note here. Marak, get access to the videos. Syn, stop by the lab and drop this off. Allistar, get Taylor home. That’s the best place for her until we can verify if this guy is still in the building. I’ll ask around and see if anyone saw the person who made the delivery.” Maverick falls back into his leader role, and everyone jumps to work without question, even me. It makes me want to be a part of their group, not simply a job. These four men make my life one big, complicated, sexy pile of crazy, and I have no idea what to do about it.
15
Taylor
By some miracle, I manage to survive ten entire days with the guys. The day after the note showed up with flowers in my office, Maverick and I had a fight over me going back to work. It didn’t last long, and I won. Work will keep me somewhat sane while my every other thought becomes consumed with them. Maverick never stood a chance in convincing me to stay home. He came with me again, this time he went through the lunch line with me and checked my office before he allowed me to enter. He can be such a caveman—a sexy, infuriating caveman. I’m one sexy growl away from jumping on him the way I jumped on Marak in my apartment.
Marak never mentioned our night to me, and I assume he hasn’t said anything to the other guys. If he did, they don’t let on. They probably don’t give a damn what happened between Marak and me. The idea of them not caring hurts, though I refuse to dig deep enough into the reason why. There’s also the idea of Marak not telling them or saying anything because it isn’t a big deal to him. It would make more sense if he didn’t constantly want me near him. He gives the impression he genuinely likes being around me. We have fun together, and he still acts like his perverted and goofy self.
One thing has changed with him though. He’s far more protective since the note was found in my office. When we go to the store or out for any reason, he glues himself to my side. It
’s like the way Syn was the first time I went to the grocery store with him and Allistar, only multiplied by ten.
The only person who consistently keeps me laughing and smiling is Syn. The man cannot be serious about anything, ever. He and I spent the least amount of time together so far, but every moment I’m with him, he makes me forget about all the craziness in my life. The other day he mentioned his need to dye his hair again, and I volunteered to do it for him. It was an excuse to hang around him, and after some light begging, he relented. Supposedly I’ll be dying his hair next Friday afternoon because he’ll be home all weekend to fix it if I mess up. His words, not mine.
For now, I find myself in the backyard, desperate to keep up with Allistar. He started training me as soon as I got home the day after the note incident. We spend the first half hour of our sessions with some stretches to loosen up. Then, he takes me through an intense workout routine for an hour. After that, we spend about an hour on self-defense techniques. When we’re done, he lets me drag my sorry ass to my room and pass out for the night. Apparently, I’m doing well, but I wouldn’t know. My mind never stays on task when we’re together. It would probably be more productive if the man didn’t work out without a shirt on. I asked for it, and I got it.
"You're a damn slave driver," I groan low and loud while I sink into the soft leather couch. There's a good chance I'll never be able to get up again. I might need the guys set me up to live in this spot. I'll eventually stink, but I can live with it.
Allistar smirks as he drops onto the cushion next to me. "What hurts?"
"My everything hurts," I whine and poke my lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I'm dying, I think. I should probably write a dead will or something."
"A dead will?" His lips twitch at the corners.
Clearly, he doesn't know how these things work. "If I'm dead, I can't write a living will. I'm basically dead, so I'm going to need to write up a dead will."
"Um . . ." Allistar studies me, torn between telling me I'm an idiot and playing along.
"Actually, just tell Grumpy he can have my movie collection. The rest Eve and Michelle get to divide up. The two of them can fight over my clothes—they’re always taking my shit anyway."
He tilts his head adorably while his eyes scan my body. "Didn't you mention you stole that shirt from Evelyn?”
With an indignant huff, I cross my arms and glare at him. "Shut it, Star." Since the start of our workouts, my punishment to him is his new nickname—Star. He made it clear he knows what he’s doing, and I made a joke about him being a star athlete. His distaste over being called a star led to the new nickname. If he didn’t react the way he did, I’d probably would have forgotten about it. But I can’t resist the chance to mess with him.
"Must you call me that?" His nose scrunches, and I resist the urge to kiss it. "It isn't even how you pronounce the last part of my name. It’s technically pronounced ‘stir’."
"Would Stella be better?"
He rolls his eyes and drops back on the couch. "You're impossible."
"I am." I shift my weight in my seat, but the movement pulls on my sore muscles, causing me to whine. "I'm dying."
"Drama queen," Allistar huffs, then pushes himself up. "I have an idea for your pitiful muscles."
He strolls from the room before I can ask what his idea might be. “Star, wait, can you bring me a soda?” I call after him, but he ignores me. "Shithead."
He pokes his head around the corner and mock glares my way. "I heard that."
"I wasn't trying to be quiet about it," I shoot back. He backs around the corner again. With great maturity, I stick my tongue out at his empty space where he once stood.
Presumably, he left me to suffer in solitude, so I rest my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes.
It isn’t more than a few seconds before I doze off.
"Are you asleep?" Allistar’s low whisper penetrates my almost sleep. My eyes pop open, and I find him with his shoulder against the entrance to the room. He grins when my eyes meet his. "Hey, I have everything ready."
"Huh?" My brain short-circuits as my mind catches up to what's in front of me. Allistar no longer wears his plain dark sweatpants and the workout tank he slipped on when we came inside. Instead, he changed into low-riding, navy swim trunks and nothing else. My hands itch to caress the hard planes of his naked chest. The defined lines that make up the mouthwatering V-shape disappear into his shorts, begging for my tongue to follow it and find the treasure at the end.
“When my muscles are overworked, the hot tub in the backyard helps a lot,” Allistar says, clearly oblivious to my drooling. He quirks a brow when I remain mute. “Do you want to come in with me?”
His invite snaps me back to reality. “I would, but I have two problems with that.” Three problems really, but he doesn’t need to know that the third one is my lack of faith in my ability to keep my hands to myself.
"What problems would that be?"
I hold up one finger. "First, I don't have my bathing suit here." I hold up a second finger. "Second, even if I did have my bathing suit here, putting it on would require getting up from this spot, and I really just don't see that happening any time in the next five or six months."
Allistar chuckles. "You're so damn dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic," I counter with a pout. "Just stating facts. This is where I'm going to live now. Right in this spot. I'm gonna need that remote, by the way." I gesture to the remote on the other side of the couch with a lift of my chin. "Be a star and grab it for me, would you? Also, a Diet Coke would be great."
Allistar growls with narrowed eyes. He rushes toward me, and I squeal like a little girl as he scoops me over his shoulder. "Oh my god, you're going to kill yourself. Put me down, you nutcase."
"My parents have a dog bigger than you. I think I can handle it." His arm wraps around my legs, his hold firm. He heads toward the back door. I use my hands on his back to push myself up and stop the head rush from my upside-down position. "I have a solution to both of your issues, so no need to worry."
"Yeah, I'm really worried about your solutions and not the fact that you could drop me on my head at any second." Sarcasm drips from my every word.
Walking along the side of the pool, Allistar shrugs hard, bouncing me on his shoulder. He laughs loudly at my muted grunt. "That hurt, asshole. I'm dying from the stupid workout crap you put me through all the damn time, and now you do that? Are you trying to speed up the process to get rid of me?"
"Dramatic," he mumbles under his breath.
"Are you allergic to nuts?" I ask with a grin as his steps falter.
He slows down, obviously not sure what to make of my sudden subject change. "What?"
"Are you?"
He hesitates. "No, I'm not."
"Good," my grin turns into a full-blown cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk, "because I'm about to kick yours up into your throat."
He chokes on air, and it almost sounds like a cross between a laugh and a grimace.
One second I'm on Allistar's shoulder, calculating my chances of connecting with my target. It might work if I kick my foot out just right. The next, I'm in hot water, literally. Allistar walks us into the hot tub, with me still in my sports bra, tank top, and workout shorts. I never even took my stupid shoes off. Is there anything worse than soggy socks? I don't think so.
He slides me down the front of his body. I grip his shoulders hard, afraid of being dropped. Plus, I have every intention of drowning him once I’m steady on my feet. His hot body pressed against mine stops me. My hands slide to his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle. After our workout, his muscles are strained tighter and running my hands over them is something I've wanted to do since our first session together. The real thing exceeds any and all expectations my dirty mind came up with over the last few days.
The satisfied smirk Allistar sports slowly drops. His eyes darken as they roam over my face. The tension between us becomes hotter than the water. Before I do somethin
g stupid, I step away from Allistar and take a deep breath. "You're lucky I don't hurt you."
He blinks himself back to reality. It takes a few beats, but my words finally register. His eyes light up, and his lips twitch. "Yeah, I'm really scared of you."
I nod. "As you should be. I'm trained to win a fight now. My coach is a star."
With another step back, my feet squish in my soggy socks and shoes. "I'm going to get you back for this," I growl as I reach into the water and pull off my shoes and socks and toss them onto the concrete. Since I'm already soaked, I decide to keep the black shorts and red sports bra on. The white tank top comes off as there's really no reason for me to keep it on.
Once my clothes are taken care of, I sit on the bench seat in the hot water and lay my head against the concrete edge. My eyes close, and I sigh deeply.
"You don't seem to have an issue with being in here." At Allistar's amused tone, I pop one eye open and glower. He only laughs and shakes his head while he joins me on the bench seat.
The two of us remain silent for a while and allow the hot water to soak our tired muscles. Maybe the couch wasn't the best place to live, moving into the hot tub is more beneficial.
"My hat goes off to whoever decided to get the house with the hot tub."
"That'd be me, sort of." He chuckles. "It's a long story."
"I've got time." My curiosity piques as it always does when a chance to learn more about the guys arises.
Allistar rolls his head to watch me, and I copy his move. He studies my face for a long time. "My parents bought it for me."
A full minute goes by as he waits expectantly for my reply. He doesn't say anything more, and I finally respond, "I think you need to look up the definition of a long story."
He scoffs and rolls his head back to stare up at the darkening sky. I follow suit, under the assumption his story is finished. The blues and whites of the day slowly fade into oranges, pinks, and yellows. The sunset brings a calmness to the air, like the world knows it's time to slow down and take a breath before the moon rises.