Muffin Top

by Tabatha Kiss

  I can’t help but feel like I won the lottery. A man like him? That looks like him, talks like him, fucks like him, and he bakes? Not to mention he’s a damn good cook, too. Be still, my heart. No, seriously. Calm down before I have a very real cardiac episode.

  There’s also the very real possibility that he wants me to have his baby — but I’m not going to dwell on that one just yet.

  For every moment I live in complete, utter bliss, I remember the circumstances that finally pushed us together and fear rattles my bones.

  Aiden Shank has eyes everywhere. If he doesn’t know I’m here already, he will eventually. I wish I could say I know what I’ll do when that happens but I’m absolutely blanking on that. I wish I believed that I was safe here but…

  I sit down on the floor in front of his bookshelf, eying the bottom row again. I guess what Vincent told me last night explains his choice of literature.

  A Navy SEAL. Can’t say I expected that.

  My eyes spot a case hidden beneath his bed. I shift on the floor and reach beneath the mattress, feeling the hard plastic exterior as I slide it out. It’s thick and heavy, like one of those fireproof lock boxes people store valuables in. My curiosity peaks as I flick open the bolts on the side and raise the lid.

  Holy moly…

  I slam it closed and glance over my shoulder for prying eyes before slowly opening it again.

  I notice the gun first. Large and silver with a black grip. It rests on top of a few files, full of official forms and documents that I can’t even begin to understand. I slide it away to get a better look at a photograph hiding beneath it. Vincent’s face stands out first, handsome and smiling. He sits at the center of a line with three other men, each one presenting their right arms towards the camera. They all have the same tattoo on their shoulders; an anchor surrounded by blue waves.

  Sink or swim.

  I lay it back down next to a set of dog tags. Vincent Silva.

  My fingers slide over a stiff, red pouch tucked into the corner of the box. I grip the zipper and slide it open—

  “Be careful with that.”

  I flinch, nearly dropping the thing as I spin around. Vincent stands in the doorway with his eyes trained on my hands. His expression is blank and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or not.

  “Sorry—” I say, pulling the zipper closed and setting the pouch back down. “I didn’t mean to… sorry.”

  He walks over and kneels beside me with a small pastry box in his hands. “It’s okay.”

  “I didn’t mean to snoop, I just…”

  “You were curious,” he says, scanning the case.

  “Yeah.”

  “Here…” He hands me the box. “Thought you might be hungry. Wasn’t sure which you’d like.”

  I peel it open to find a blueberry muffin and a cherry-cherry cupcake. “Mmm… thank you.”

  He reaches in and takes hold of the photograph. “Just relics of an old life.”

  I bite my cheek, watching his eyes for any sign of anger, but they’re clear and green as always. “Who are they?” I ask, setting the pastry box down on the bed.

  He turns the photo over and he smirks as he reads the back. “My old team.”

  I tilt my head to get a look at the one-word inscription. “Why does it say ‘Boo?’”

  “Because we were ghosts,” he says. “At least, that’s what they called us.”

  “Kind of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-them sort of thing?”

  He nods, setting the photo back into the box. “Something like that.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Last I heard…” he shrugs, “still out there doing good somewhere.”

  My eyes fall to his shoulder where his tattoo lies hidden beneath his shirt. “Sink or swim?”

  “Do or die,” he quotes. “You had to think fast out there. Sometimes, those were the only two options.”

  I stiffen as he picks up the gun without hesitation. His fingers slide over the grip out of habit; just like he was trained to do.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, flipping it around and holding it out for me. “It’s not loaded.”

  I take hold of it with quivering fingers. “I’ve never liked these things,” I admit.

  “Me neither.”

  “A soldier who doesn’t like guns?”

  “You’d be surprised how many there are.” He grips the red pouch. “No, I’m more the explosive type.”

  I raise a brow as he unzips the case, opening it to reveal three small, black capsules locked inside foam, each no larger than a roll of pennies. “What are those?”

  “Grenades.”

  The gun slips from my grasp and tumbles loudly to the floor. “Grenades?” I repeat.

  He smiles and snaps the case shut again. “Tiny grenades.”

  “Why do you have tiny grenades?”

  “I made them.”

  “You made them?”

  “They respond to oxygen,” he explains, zipping it closed and placing it back inside. “Once armed, you have five seconds to wrap it or place it in an air-tight container — something breakable, like glass, that would shatter if thrown hard enough. Container breaks, air touches the grenade, and… boom.”

  “Oh.” I blink. “Is that legal?”

  “Nope.” He pauses to smile. “But the explosion isn’t lethal on its own. You’d have to pair it with something else to cause any real damage. We mostly used them to create distractions.” He picks the gun up off the floor and places it back in the box with the rest of his past. “Come on,” he says, latching it closed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To your place.” He pushes the box back under the bed. “Unless you want to wear the same outfit every day. I, personally, would not complain at all if you walked around naked up here but I’d imagine you’d want to grab your toothbrush or something.”

  I grin. “I would love my toothbrush.”

  He extends his hand to help me off the floor. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  I push open my door, feeling a little uneasy that it was left unlocked all night. This isn’t exactly the best neighborhood and Aiden’s men could easily have come back. They could be in there now, waiting for me in the shadows, ready to slit my throat like those tires.

  I freeze in the open doorway.

  Vincent lays a hand on my arm and gives it a light squeeze. “Wait here,” he says, reading my mind.

  I smile and stay in the hallway while he steps inside to take a look around.

  After a few seconds, my chest tightens with a sudden realization.

  Oh, god. Vincent the bakery man is wandering around my apartment alone.

  “Find anything?” I shout, poking my head in.

  He comes back into the living room from the hallway — the one leading directly from my bedroom. “There’s no one here.”

  I sigh with relief as I step inside. “Nothing looks stolen,” I note, passing around him towards the bedroom. I say a silent prayer to myself that I didn’t leave any undergarments laying around for him to see before I got snatched last night.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t. Nothing too embarrassing here, except for maybe the lack of real furniture, but Vincent already knows firsthand how strapped for cash I’ve been lately.

  I grab my phone off the bed and press the home button three times before I realize it’s dead. Habit ticks at me and I assume there’s a snippy message from my brother on here about me being late for work, but then I remember that we’re on sweet, blissful vacation.

  “Phone is still here,” I say. “Definitely didn’t get robbed.”

  “Good,” Vincent says from the doorway.

  I reach down and plug the phone into the charger by the bed. “I’ll just grab a few things and then we can go.”

  “Take your time.”

  He wanders over to the bedroom windows and peeks outside through the slats. His eyes flick back and forth at the street below, watching and waiting for something specific.

&nbs
p; I pull open my dresser drawer. “We being followed or something?”

  “No, I’m just…”

  “Protective?”

  He smiles. “A little, yeah.”

  “Well, you won’t hear any complaints from me. It feels pretty good having someone to watch my back for once.”

  I take a small stack of shirts and place them on the bed. A hand touches my hip and I flinch in surprise as Vincent wraps his arms around me from behind.

  He says nothing but he doesn’t need to. I feel everything from his gentle hands and his warm lips. He presses his mouth against my neck, pursing slightly as he takes a deep, slow breath.

  I look back and he kisses the edge of my cheek.

  Vincent Silva might not want to think of himself as a hero but that’s exactly what he is to me. Standing here now, beside him… I’ve never felt so sure about anything in my life.

  I kiss him back, slowly turning in his arms to face him. His hands rise to my cheeks and I push up onto the tips of my toes to deepen our embrace.

  We lower onto the bed as my phone vibrates next to the pillow.

  I reach for it and check the screen. “It’s my brother,” I say, reading his name.

  “Answer it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Perfect timing, honestly,” Vincent chuckles, standing up off the bed. “We shouldn’t be here long and I was about to really take my time on you…”

  He walks out of the room, leaving me with a healthy blush plastered over my cheeks.

  I stand up and clear my throat before answering the phone. “Hey, Tommy. How’s the vacation so far?”

  “Not nearly as good as yours, Ms. Ryan.”

  My heart tears in half with the sound of his low, Irish drawl. “Aiden?”

  “You know, it’s not very wise to stand a man up like that…” he says. “You never know how he’ll react to rejection.”

  I turn around, sensing Vincent’s eyes on me from the doorway. “Where’s my brother?”

  “Help me understand, Evey,” Aiden growls. “You’ll fuck him for money, but not me?”

  Panic trembles my nerves. “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure as hell looks like it from where I’m sitting. Where else could that money have come from?”

  “Evey…” Vincent walks towards me. “Hang up the phone.”

  I step away, shaking my head. “What did you do to my brother?”

  “I could have given you everything he could and more,” Aiden continues. “Money, protection. All you had to do was submit to me.”

  “Go to hell,” I spit.

  A painful scream rings out, piercing my ear, and I nearly collapse with the familiar voice.

  Tommy.

  “Stop!” My eyes well with tears. “Leave him alone!”

  Vincent snatches the phone from my grasp and taps on the speaker. My brother’s screams of pain fill the room and Vincent’s brow furrows with anger.

  “I’m willing to give you one last chance,” Aiden says, talking over the background noise. “Make your choice, Evey. Come to me and I won’t cut off big brother’s fingers, one knuckle at a time—”

  “Let him go, asshole,” Vincent says.

  Aiden gasps. “Mr. Silva, it’s nice to finally speak with you man-to-man. I hear your bakery is lovely.”

  “And I hear you’re having a little trouble getting laid.”

  Tommy shrieks again and I silently beg Vincent to stop.

  “Vincent Silva. Son of Byron and Mary Silva. Joined the military at age eighteen to get out of doing prison time.”

  I raise a brow and Vincent turns away from me.

  “Then…” Aiden pauses, “things get interesting. Ages twenty to twenty-five are a little classified.”

  “With good reason.”

  “Oh, I’d imagine that’s true considering what you did to my men last night.”

  “They had it coming.”

  “Be that as it may, you and I have quite the score to settle and I always get even.”

  “Tell me when and where,” Vincent says, looking at me. “Just leave the Ryans alone. They paid their debt to you.”

  “I’m a reasonable man. I don’t like to take lives unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “It’s never necessary.”

  “That’s a strange thing for a soldier to say.”

  “This isn’t a war.”

  “It will be… unless you give me back what’s mine.”

  Vincent grits his teeth. “She’s not yours.”

  “I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Silva. Deliver Evey Ryan to me and I won’t lay a hand on that adorable cop sister of yours.”

  A shadow falls over Vincent’s eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.

  I take a step back.

  “I’m a reasonable man,” Aiden repeats, “but I am not a patient one. Either you bring her to me or I will take them both from you. Tonight.”

  Vincent keeps his eyes on me.

  Aiden chuckles. “And Evey… I extend the same deal to you. Ditch the muffin man. Come to me and I’ll spare your brother. If you don’t, I’ll kill them both.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Vincent growls.

  “Honestly, Mr. Silva… I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The call ends.

  “Tommy—!” I gasp, my guts twisting in knots.

  Vincent lowers the phone to his side. His eyes lock on me but I can’t tell if it’s malice or sympathy staring back at me.

  He reaches out to me. “Evey—”

  I twitch away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

  He presents his palms. “You have to trust me, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t do that.”

  My back touches the wall. “What about your sister?”

  Hesitation crosses his face. It’s not a choice I’d wish on my worst enemy. I can’t ask him to choose me over his sister and I won’t.

  “I’ll give myself up,” I say, cutting him off.

  “Evey,” he steps in front of me, “you can’t do that.”

  “It’s the only thing I can do.”

  He places his hands on my shoulders and stares me down. “I will not let a rat like him take you from me,” he says. “You’re not going.”

  “If I don’t, he’ll kill you. He’ll kill Tommy and Anna. I can’t let other people get hurt because of me.”

  “I said the same thing once.” His face falls. “It’s why I quit the service. I made a mistake. Just one, stupid mistake, but it cost a dozen lives. Women, kids. I can still remember their names. It was my job to protect them and I failed. I abandoned my duty because I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

  My lip quivers. “Vincent…”

  “But I wonder sometimes just how many more lives I could have saved if I’d stayed and fought.” He shakes his head. “No, Evey… you’re not going anywhere.”

  His hands fall as he takes a step back, leaving me standing against the wall in a haze. My heart aches for him. He’s carried this with him since he came back — for every day I’ve known him. No wonder he never thought he deserved happiness.

  I push off the wall. “How do we get Tommy back?” I ask.

  He furrows his brow in thought. “How did Shank collect money before? Did you ever drop it off anywhere?”

  “No,” I answer. “He always walked into the bar like he owned it.”

  “Any idea where he operates from?”

  I think for a second, coming up with nothing. “No, he’s just always… everywhere.”

  Vincent looks at my phone. “Maybe Anna knows where he’d take Tommy…”

  I wrap my shaking hands around me. “So, you almost went to jail?”

  He hesitates and pockets the phone. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was a stupid kid,” he says. “Got mixed up in a robbery that didn’t go so well. No one got hurt but I was caught red-handed. The others ran away and I took the fall. My mother knew the judge, managed to get me a deal,
and I took it. The only catch is that I have to keep my record clean. One parking ticket and I’m gone.”

  “You didn’t turn them in with you?”

  “Didn’t see the need to take them down with me.” He tilts his head. “One of them fixed your car, so I’d say that paid off.”

  I nod, unable to argue with it. Vincent Silva. The man next door. The baker. The soldier. And now, the former criminal.

  What else don’t I know about him?

  He studies my face. “Evey, I’m going to do whatever I can to get your brother back. I promise.”

  I show a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  The front door crashes open in the living room. Vincent moves fast, grabbing my hand and yanking me away from the bedroom door frame. He settles us against the wall and lays his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

  Strong boots stomp across my floor.

  “Here, kitty kitty.”

  “It’s Clive,” I gasp.

  I tense up and Vincent holds me a little tighter as he guides me towards the closet behind us.

  “I know you’re in here,” Clive chuckles from the living room. “Come on out.”

  Vincent opens the closet and pushes me inside.

  “Wait,” I whisper, reaching down to grab the baseball bat hidden in the corner by my foot.

  He smirks with approval as he takes it from me and leans in to give me a hard kiss. As he pulls away, he raises his finger and holds it against his lips.

  I lean back into the closet, shaking in fear, as he closes the door.

  Chapter 13

  Vincent

  I press my back against the wall and wait.

  “Here, kitty kitty.”

  My rage brews just beneath the surface and I grip the bat a little tighter. Partly because I really hate this guy’s employer but mostly because he’s treating my girlfriend like a goddamn cat.

  Girlfriend. That’s a nice thought.

  Clive’s thick shadow lingers just beyond the doorway and I snap back into focus. I raise the bat over my head with one hand, just waiting for the second his head passes into view…

  He stops right outside the door. “I know you’re in there, too, dog.”