by Dee Garcia
Jade: Oh and P.S. Of course we can still be friends. Who else am I going to bitch to about rude patients who make me question my sanity? Lol. :P
Me: Lol! Those patient stories do give me a good laugh. I would’ve missed them had you told me to fuck off.
Jade: And I would’ve missed you. I’d have to be an idiot to let go of a friend like you…
Well… that was a pleasant and unexpected surprise, to say the least. Her response put me at ease, but that sense of ease didn’t last for very long, because once again, the shadow of death was all I could see...
Jasper Devereaux screwed my father.
Just like every idiot I’ve ever crossed off my list. So, when he happened to walk into the bar I’d been sitting in for the last hour, I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity to snuff him out slip me by. Not that it would, because I would’ve found him and killed him eventually, but he did the hard work for me without even realizing it.
And considering the fact that my mind was still in a tizzy after what happened with Xander last night, this was certainly playing to my advantage.
Mr. Devereaux was the epitome of a silver fox; tall, fit, sexy stubble, a handsome mug, and despite my telling Xander I didn’t have Daddy issues, it was easy to chat him up. One bat of my long lashes and a sultry smile, and the man was hanging on my every word. No surprise here when he asked me to come back to his place after a few drinks. I hesitated only momentarily, mostly because I knew where this was going—in the same direction I’d taken things with Xander.
But Jasper fit the bill without question, and rule number one wouldn’t let me decline his offer.
Whatever it takes, remember?
Besides, it’s not like I was going to let him fuck me. The curtain would drop on this charade long before then.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Devereaux questioned as I followed him into his luxurious condo.
Holding tightly onto my clutch, I shook my head, taking in the ornate decor of my surroundings. “No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”
“You are driving,” he conceded, shrugging off his blazer.
“Exactly, and I don’t quite think I’m here for more drinks anyway,” I purred devilishly.
“Fair enough.” Jasper smirked and tipped his graying head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Very observant, I see.”
Flashing him a smirk of my own, I tossed my handbag onto the couch and sashayed toward him with a seductive sway of my hips. His green eyes darkened dramatically as he watched me sidle up to him, shimmering with that predatory gleam I’d seen in many men’s eyes before.
“You have no idea,” I agreed, smoothing my palms up his firm chest. “I know damn well why I’m here.”
“And are you okay with that, Miss…” he trailed off, settling his hands at my waist.
“I don’t do names, remember? But yes, I’m more than okay with that. I’ll be better once you peel this dress off me though.”
Through my sensuous chuckle, Devereaux regarded me with an impressed brow, a deliciously sinister expression washing over his handsome features. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, sweet girl,” he advised.
Neither do you, Mr. Devereaux.
“That’s alright,” I whispered, undoing the top two buttons of his dress shirt. “I like surprises, but go on…tell me.”
“Bindings. More specifically, you,” he tilted my chin up, “in bindings. How does that sound?”
I inched up on my toes, taking care to brush my lips along the shell of his ear. “Like a good time.”
That must’ve been exactly what Jasper wanted to hear because from one moment to the next, I found myself wrapped around him, legs and all. His lips found mine as he walked us to what I presumed was his bedroom, hands cupped firmly around my ass. I barely heard the door fly open through his assault, gasping in surprise when he tossed me on the bed and retreated to his dresser without warning.
Get ready, Eden. Almost time, my dark passenger whispered.
I gave a subtle nod, the go-ahead to flip the switch, and as always, she didn’t falter. The second it flipped, neither did I. That familiar buzz coursed through me, the very edges of my peripherals tinging with a bright crimson glow. This bastard was going to regret bringing me back here…
Lifting onto my elbows, I caught Jasper spinning around, a shiny pair of handcuffs circling his finger. He grinned and flung them onto the beside me, promptly undoing his belt thereafter.
Perfect, I thought to myself. Handcuffs would be impossible for him to break free from.
Just as he attempted to crawl his way over me, I grabbed the cuffs and scooted backward toward the headboard, keeping my expression as sultry as possible.
“I have an idea,” I explained, parting my legs just slightly, enough to give him a peek of what lay beneath my dress.
A peek he definitely enjoyed, following me across the bed like a famished puppy. “What’s that?”
“How about I cuff you instead?”
Devereaux gave a little chuckle and shook his head, forcing himself between my legs. “Not likely.”
“Please.” I jotted out my bottom lip and rolled him over before he could think to stop me. “It’s one of my biggest fantasies.”
He paused, green eyes rapt on my body pinning him to the bed. His excitement was prominent, swelling beneath me almost in a teasing fashion.
“You make it hard to say no,” he admitted, meeting my expectant gaze.
“So don’t,” I countered, lifting his hands to the headboard.
Still, he seemed unsure, regarding me with a curious stare, but he didn’t go on to protest either. I guess the possibility of busting a nut overrides all sense of caution. The imbecile blindly chose his fate, not that he knew any better that is.
“I don’t usually relinquish control like this, sweet girl,” Devereaux murmured, trailing his nose between the valley of my breasts as I locked the cuffs in place. “But you’re quite possibly the most delectable dessert I’ve had the pleasure of indulging in lately.”
“Is that so, Mr. Devereaux,” I cooed salaciously, grinding into his erect length with slow, purposeful rolls of my hips.
“Indeed…” He hummed and squeezed his eyes shut, tossing his head back against the headboard. “God, that feels good.”
His husky groan of appreciation spurred me on. I laughed softly and pressed myself flush against him, dragging my lips along his Adam’s apple to the peppered stubble dusting his jaw. “I can make this worth your while, Jasper, if...”
“If what,” he pressed.
Showtime.
“If you tell me why you think you could run from my father,” I growled in his ear, pulling my blade free from the holster at my thigh.
Devereaux froze as metal met his throat. His hard-on deflated in seconds and I’m almost positive I heard him suck in a heap of air too. Our eyes locked as I eased back, every drop of blood in my veins pumping with the need to tear his neck apart. But then I saw it; all traces of desire I’d seen before cuffing him was long gone and all I could see was fear, the same fear I’d seen etched on Xander’s face last night.
Now it was me who froze. Jasper started rattling on his explanation, quickly deducing I was Scarsi’s daughter, but I didn’t hear a thing. Not one word. As hard as I tried to focus, images of Xander beneath me, begging me to spare his life, flickered like a horror movie in my head.
“I’m sorry! I swear I had every intention to pay him back, I just—“
I slapped a hand over his mouth in need of silence, breathing through this unfamiliar rush of emotions attacking me from the inside out. But Devereaux continued to mumble his apologies, eyes wide in shock at the direction his indulgent night had taken.
Focus, Eden, my dark passenger kept screaming.
And yet I couldn’t. Between her, Jasper, and the memories of Xander, my brain just wouldn’t settle on one thing. It was too loud. My heart was racing, palms sweating. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears,
see it pulsing around my vision.
Him.
Xander.
Him.
Xander.
Blood.
So much fucking blood.
Kill. Him, she demanded, and with a tormented scream, I did. I didn’t even warn him, didn’t offer a few last words or an explanation. I simply dragged the blade across this throat in one fluid motion with no signature to follow. A warm pool of blood all but splashed on me in the process, forcing another soul-shattering scream from the deepest, darkest part of me. This wasn’t like me, not by any means. Watching the life leave his body gifted me no satisfaction. None whatsoever.
Shaking on top of him, I sat there, horrified by his green-eyed stare as his blood trickled down my hand.
What is happening to me?
I was off my game, completely, one-hundred percent off my damn game. Days since my evening with Xander were flying by and I hadn't made a single attempt to continue on with the remaining names on my list after what happened with Devereaux. I didn’t want to. Hell, I didn’t even know if I could. As a result, my dark passenger was not pleased, her craving for bloodshed growing an insurmountable amount with each passing hour. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain her, and as hard as I tried to reign her in with the promise of getting back on the move soon, we both knew I was lying.
Again.
Apparently, that's what I'd become. A liar. I'd lied to Xander about my identity, lied to Daddy about business. And I was damn well sure lying to myself about continuing on as though nothing ever happened. But something had indeed happened, and that something was preventing me from living the life I once loved without question. Traces of past marks were surfacing in my dreams and I'd begun to wonder how many of these people had been in a situation like Xander’s. A situation that was purely out of their control.
The answer was none. At least none that I found.
After many late nights at the compound when not a soul was around, I went through file after file in Daddy’s office, searching for anything that might’ve made their deaths unjust, but I came up empty-handed time and time again. Case in point, they’d all deserved it, most of them obtaining a criminal background Daddy had no clue of until they avoided paying their debts.
So, with all that said and done, why did I still feel so imbalanced? Why did it feel as though the last six years of my life and all that I’d done were suddenly a bitter pill to swallow? Was this guilt? Remorse? Paranoia? Was I just going crazy? Whatever this abhorrent feeling was, would it ever go away, or I was doomed to feel like this the rest of my living days?
Regardless of my troubles, I didn’t have time to linger on it all, not when I had a vastly bigger problem on my hands, namely my promise to Xander. In hindsight, I realize I never should’ve promised him immunity. It was a given Daddy wouldn’t grant him a free pass and there was no way in hell I could even tell my father I’d spared him without his consent. He'd be furious. Did I think he’d kill me for doing so as I’d told Xander? Of course not. But disappointing my father was not something I took lightly. I’d always tried my hardest to do right by him, to help him when he needed it, and do all I could to keep the family business running smoothly. My loyalty to them was everything, yet still I'd let Xander walk away, or really, I'd walked away without looking back.
About a week later, I was still wallowing around in limbo and not a step closer to figuring out how I was going to check Xander’s name off my list without A, actually killing him, or B, lying to my father again. Those seemed to be my only options, though, and if I had to choose one, A was most definitely out of the question. I’d lie a million times over to keep him alive.
See what he’s done to you? He has you lying to your family, has you laying around like a useless blob when you know your Dad needs your help…
Help. Help… I shot up from my bed with a gasp as that one little word struck down the inspiration I’d been searching for all along. While it wasn’t going to solve the bulk of my ordeal, if executed correctly, it would hopefully offer Xander the relief he deserved. I’m sure you can imagine my alter-ego was far from impressed. Her words weren’t meant to be encouraging, and here I was, feeding off them in a positive manner rather than letting them drag me further down the dark hole. I could all but see her rolling her eyes as I scampered around my room, dressing in a hurried fashion and hightailing it out of the house faster than I had in the last week. Excitement coursed through me as I stopped at several places throughout the city, collecting everything I needed before heading out to the Bronx. But the closer I got to my final destination, the more I couldn’t remember why I’d thought this was a good idea in the first place. I’d done too much and come too far to pussy out though, so with great courage and a one-sided pep talk that consisted of me trying to convince myself this was the right thing to do, I finally pulled into Royce’s lot, feeling nothing short of anxiety when I caught sight of the man I’d come to see wiping off his greased face en route to where I’d parked.
He looked as gorgeous as I’d remembered him, if not more so, with all that dirt and sweat clinging to his tanned skin. He was so dirty in fact, the white tank top hiding his delicious body from the world could hardly be considered white. Despite the worriment that had briskly consumed me upon my arrival, I found myself clenching, throbbing, imagining the two of us in the shower as I cleaned him up, only to get dirty all over again…
“Hey there, how can I help you?” he asked, his voice friendly and hopeful, under the impression I might be a customer.
’Cause yes, he definitely thought I was a customer since I hadn’t come in my car…
Counting to three—okay, more like ten—I eased off my bike and slowly removed my helmet, my hair spilling out like a golden veil down my jacket-clad back. As expected, Xander’s eyes widened in shock when he realized I was most certainly not a customer but the woman who tried to kill him, standing just three feet away, at his workplace, in broad daylight. He made no sudden moves, didn't scream for help, or withdraw a weapon. On the contrary, he just stared, gaping, a plethora of indiscernible emotions flashing across his face.
“Eden? What are you… What are you doing here?”
“To personally tell you I handled Scarsi,” I lied, because it was the only way to keep him from running for the hills, and although I immediately regretted it, I knew he would’ve asked about it eventually, meaning I would’ve had to lie regardless. Fishing out a white envelope from the inside pocket of my studded leather jacket, I held it out to him with a shaky hand. “But mainly to give you this.”
Xander eyed me inquisitively for what felt like an eternity before he took it and swiftly ripped open the seal. Upon peeking inside, his eyes bugged out once more.
“What is this?”
“You’ve been on my mind tirelessly since the other night. Your mom too, and I don't know.” I shrugged. “I just wanted to help. Figured it might put a nice dent in her medical bills.”
“You really don't have to do this,” he said, extending the envelope my way.
“I know, but I want to. You deserve more out of life than constant worry, Xander.”
He opened his mouth, likely to protest further against my unexpected generosity, but the words never made it out. After a tense, awkward beat, though, he slipped the envelope into the back pocket of his black Dickies and crossed his arms. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I, um, I also…” I trailed off, not quite knowing where to start, my fingers wringing together nervously.
“You what?” he hedged.
“I also skimmed through your file. Scarsi has one for every person he loans out money to, and before I took the plunge and talked him down, I told him I needed to do more research. That's when I learned about this place. I know you're struggling to keep it above water, so I talked to a few people I know. We’ve put out some fliers around different businesses and they're going to help spread the word about your shop. Business should pick up soon.”
“You d
id what?” His head jerked back, incredulity filling every nook and cranny of his question.
“I'm sorry I pried, but you being a mark made no sense at all and I had to investigate. When I found out what had led you to asking Scarsi for help, I couldn't write it off. It's a big problem, a problem you shouldn't have to deal with, and I just wanted to help you in any way I could.”
“But why? You don't owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do. I owe you peace of mind after what happened, and doing all of this was the only way I could think of doing so. I know I already said it, but I feel like it needs to be said again. I'm so sor—”
“Don’t.” He lifted a hand. “Just don’t. It takes a real sick and twisted person to show up at someone’s workplace, someone whom they almost killed, with money and charity and a measly apology, as though that’s going to erase what happened.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and willed away unbidden tears that stung my eyes at the disgust in his tone. Just days ago, he’d whispered words of forgiveness through my despair, but it’s clear they were fueled only by shock and adrenaline. After a week, he’d had time to let it all sink in and undoubtedly relive the moment when I almost took his life. Had I really thought an “I’m sorry” would be acceptable for the psychological damage I’d likely caused?
“Right. That was stupid. I’m gonna leave now,” I said in a hurry, spinning around to grab my helmet off the handlebars.
But a firm hand at my arm stopped me dead in my tracks, and suddenly, I felt him. Felt the charge that electrified every bone in my body, the one that surged only between us, the very one I’d never experienced with anyone else. It was utterly palpable, more so than the first time I'd felt it, and I was too weak to ignore it.
His head came down low, lips hovering so closely beside my ear, and a shudder rolled down my spine as he spoke. “It also takes a very brave and generous person to show up at someone’s workplace, someone whom they almost killed, not only to keep true to their word but also to offer their help in a way no one has offered before. That says more to me than any apology ever could.”