by Nikki Chase
I prefer minimal frills. Just good, fresh ingredients, prepared the right way. And apparently, that’s what Seth likes, too. I can see it in the design of this mansion, with its clean lines and lack of clutter.
“Baby, you have no idea what someone with a real black, bitter heart is like if you think I’m like that,” Seth says.
He picks up one half of the bagel with his hand, balancing it carefully to keep the toppings in place. He takes a big bite, and I steal a glance at him to see if he likes it. I hate to admit it, but I care about his opinion.
“This is really good,” he says.
“It could be better if I had capers and fresh bagels.” I go on to tell him how I came up with this morning’s breakfast menu, forgetting that I’m supposed to hate him.
He listens to me intently, like I’m talking about the most interesting thing in the world. Most people—even Emily—would’ve tuned out after I started saying more than two sentences about why I chose this particular brand of lox.
How could I continue to ignore Seth? I enjoy our conversations too much. And my body never fails to remind me of how irresistibly hot he is. Whenever he’s around, it’s like every muscle in my body is drawn to him.
I find myself inexplicably drawn to him, to the point where I want to believe his story about keeping me here for my own safety.
But it’s just so implausible, you know? I mean, I’m a nobody. Why would people want to hurt me?
On the other hand, Ana is just a harmless, innocent girl, and they put her through hell. She told me she’s seeing a shrink and she’s healing but, damn, I wonder if she can fully recover from an event that traumatic.
I wonder if this has anything to do with the prison program, where I first met Seth. Maybe one of the inmates thinks I suck at teaching. Or maybe he caught food poisoning from something I made and still hates me for it.
Ugh, I don’t know. All those scenarios sound ridiculous. I can’t think of any good reason why someone would be so determined to hurt me, I’d need special protection.
Maybe those people are as deranged as Seth says they are. Or maybe I’m just doing mental gymnastics because I want an excuse to give in to this magnetic pull between Seth and me.
“What are you thinking about?” Seth asks, breaking the silence.
We’ve been eating quietly for a while as my thoughts come back with a vengeance. I suppressed them to focus on food prep earlier, but now I can’t help zoning out and thinking about my plight.
I hesitate, but I have to ask.
I inhale deeply to prepare myself.
“The Local wasn’t where we first met, was it?” I softly ask, lifting my gaze to meet his.
“No,” he says. At least he’s honest.
“We met way before that, didn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“In prison.”
“Yes.”
I already expected his answer. But it still surprises me that he’d actually tell me the truth—and so easily, too. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When?” It’s his turn to ask a question, apparently.
“What do you mean, when? You had plenty of time. Years and years of time, to tell me.”
“It never seemed like the right time,” he says.
“And you’re the one who gets to decide when the right time is, correct?”
“Yes,” he admits.
“Figures.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, but there are rules I need to follow. If I fail, it could mean the difference between life and death.”
“For whom? For you?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“For girls like Ana?”
Surprise registers in his eyes, although he blinks it away immediately. “Did she tell you?”
“How else would I know?”
“You don’t have to know. These things, they eat at you, turn you into a different person.” Seth places his forearms on the table and leans closer. He puts his palm on my cheek. “You don’t have to know these things, my angel.”
I look into Seth’s eyes, blue and deep like the ocean. I have no idea what monsters lurk just beneath the calm surface, but it’s drawing me in. A little voice in my head tells me it’s a bad idea to dive in, but I can’t help myself.
I close my eyes and nuzzle into Seth’s warm, comforting palm. He slides his hand over the back of my head and kisses me.
This kiss doesn’t start out sweet and tentative like it did on the balcony. The moment Seth’s lips touch mine, I lose my breath. He pulls me in, crushes my lips, and sweeps his tongue inside, sending pure pleasure straight to my core.
I hold on to his arms, feeling the hard ropes of muscles underneath the soft fabric of his designer suit.
I’ve always sensed something strange about Seth. He wears a Rolex and drives a Mercedes, but he’s rough around the edges, and now I know why. It was probably something he developed to survive in prison.
Seth gets up from his chair, tilting my head back as he steps closer and stands right by my chair. With no table between us, I feel exposed, even though I’m wearing my usual combo of dress pants and button-down shirt.
I can feel his hunger through the kiss. I can sense the primal need within him, reaching out toward me, pulling me under. I’m afraid I’ll lose my footing if I let go, and I don’t trust him to catch me.
I still have no idea what he really intends to do with me. For all I know, everything could’ve been part of a set-up he’s prepared for me, to lure me to his trap.
But I know my body wants him, and maybe that’s enough for now. It’s just a kiss, right?
“You’re such a sexy little thing,” Seth says when he pulls away, his eyes glinting wickedly, his breaths ragged.
“You’re trouble,” I reply.
“I am.” He smirks. He studies my face, making me feel naked, making me feel like he can penetrate my soul and see just how desperate I am for him.
Out of nowhere, his gaze darts toward something outside the window. I feel his arm muscles tense underneath his clothes. His eyes widen, his eyebrows raised.
“Don't move,” Seth says.
He rests his hand on my head, as if to shield me from whatever danger he's sensing.
Something is wrong.
Something is seriously wrong.
19
Seth
Damn it.
I need to alert Anthony, but I don't even have my phone with me to call him with. I didn't think they could get this close.
Although, thinking about it now, I may have been complacent. It has been so long since the last attack. We haven't changed things up for a while.
Yes, I still have guards patrolling the perimeter, but they're useless if their movements are predictable.
My strength can be my downfall sometimes. I always insist on things being done a certain way at certain times, and that makes it easy for them to figure us out.
My best guess? They've been watching us for weeks or even months, and they know our routines by now. They know what times the guards change shift. They know what time I usually have breakfast and where. They probably even know what time Anthony takes his smoke break.
I'm lucky enough to not have sat in my usual spot for breakfast. I guess I have Alice to thank for that. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have spotted the guy.
He’s been acting like a gardener, mowing the lawn and pruning the bushes, but I thought he was looking this way too often. And then I saw him reaching into his jacket, touching something metallic that glinted in the sunlight.
A gun.
That fucker must know someone on the inside. Someone must’ve gotten him in, which means I’ll have to purge my staff again. It’s my least favorite thing to do—not just because it’s a pain in the ass that takes up a lot of time and effort, but mostly because I hate being reminded that it’s probably not a good idea to hire people whose pasts are tied to my enemies.
Yes, the enemies of my enemies are my friends
. But what if my original enemies still hold some kind of power over my supposed friends and can make them do basically anything they want?
I lean in toward Alice, pulling her into my arms. I’m going to have to move fast, or this reckless plan just won’t work.
If I pull this off, we’ll both get to live to see another day. Otherwise, we’ll both be corpses within minutes.
“Seth, what’s wrong?” Alice asks.
I want to look into her eyes and lie to her, tell her everything’s going to be okay, but I can’t guarantee that. And I can’t take my focus off the guy who’s trying to kill us.
“Just follow my lead,” I say finally.
I’ll protect her with everything I’ve got, even if I have to give up my life to do that. I was the one who got her into this mess, after all. And I don’t think my life is all that great anyway, that I have to keep going at any cost. There are people who can continue my work if I can’t go on.
If I fail, if she gets shot and dies, I hope for two things. I hope she goes quickly and painlessly. And I hope I die with her, so I won’t have to live with the guilt.
Okay. It’s go time.
In one smooth, practiced move, I pull out my handgun from the holster inside my waistband. At the same time, I hold Alice with my free hand and drop us both down on the floor. When we fall, she gasps in surprise and grunts in pain. I try to minimize the impact of her body hitting the floor, but that kind of detail is hard to get right in a situation like this.
By the time I point my gun at the intruder, he has already started shooting. I hear the loud bang of his gun. The first bullet hits the dining table, making the wood explode and splinter.
I shoot back, but I miss.
I roll Alice down until she’s lying flat on the floor and cover her with my body. If the guy shoots, he’ll get me instead of her. This awkward position means there’s a higher risk of me getting shot, because I can’t move to a safer spot while protecting Alice.
He shoots again, and this time the bullet ricochets off the hard stone floor. We’re not hurt, but it’s only a matter of time now. We’re completely vulnerable. Even though we’re both on the floor, the big window gives him a clear sight of us.
I can see him clearly, too, but I can’t move as quickly, with Alice right under my body.
I just hope that the loud gunshots will alert my guards and I’ll soon have backup.
That will only work if my guards haven’t all switched sides, though. Obviously I have at least one double-crosser in the house. Who’s to say they’re not all compromised?
I decide to pay no attention to the shots he’s firing. It’s not like I can go anywhere to avoid them anyway; not without getting up and taking a bigger risk of getting shot.
Instead, I concentrate on getting a bullet lodged inside that motherfucker’s guts. I squint and squeeze the trigger. I watch and smile as he screams. His blood spreads, staining one leg of his pants red.
Then, another shot right at his hand, and he drops his gun. I didn’t fire this shot, though. I can’t get a shot that accurate from my position.
Through the window, I see Anthony and a couple other guys rush in. They grab the gun that the intruder has dropped on the grass and pull his hands back behind him, forcing his shoulders to bend back awkwardly. I hope it hurts.
“Are you okay?” I ask Alice.
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything. Poor thing, she’s shaking.
“It’s okay now. You’re safe.” I hear footsteps and look up to see Alejandra and Ana running into the dining room to see what the commotion is all about. I stroke Alice’s hair and stare straight into her blue eyes. “You’re safe now. Take a seat. Alejandra and Ana will take care of you.”
I get up. The window is all fucked up now. There’s a big hole where the glass used to be. I step through the window to get outside. It feels strange, but it’s not a feeling I can dwell on right now.
Fueled by fury and adrenaline, I charge toward the guy, who’s now kneeling on the grass, wincing in pain as blood continues to flow from his hand and thigh. Red-hot anger burns inside me, inciting me to put more holes in his body.
He fucking tried to kill Alice and me. Motherfucker deserves to die.
I knee him in the gut and watch his body contort in pain. His high-pitched wail sounds like music to my ears.
“Did you find out who let him in yet?” I ask my guards.
“It can only be one guy,” Anthony says without meeting my eyes.
Having worked with all my security team, day in and day out, he always feels responsible when something like this happens, even though I know he’s doing his best to cover all the holes in our security. At the same time, he still feels some kind of bond with these men and he takes it hard when one of them betrays him.
With a heavy sigh, Anthony says, “Ian. He must’ve been the one who let this guy in.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on the intruder. I can’t believe we almost died at the hands of this loser.
“He’s a good kid, Seth,” Anthony says. “But he still has family back home. Walter’s guys probably got ahold of his family and tortured them.”
I nod again. I already figured that out on my own. It’s the same old story, every single time.
It’s a tough situation, for sure. On one hand, Ian has betrayed us all, putting everyone in danger. On the other hand, if someone puts a gun to your father’s head and strips your sister naked, wouldn’t you do anything to save them?
I can’t put the entire blame on him. In a way, it’s my fault for not vetting my staff better. This is why I don’t like taking in guys whose families are still within reach of Walter’s crew. But sometimes, I make exceptions.
I know Ian. I like the kid. That’s why I hired him. But he can’t stay now. And I need to get rid of everyone who still has family back in their home country. I’d be putting everyone else in danger otherwise.
My body jolts when someone touches my chest. With all the tension in the air, I’m more jumpy than usual.
It’s Alice. She seems to have recovered from the shock. Now, she’s standing on the grass in front of me, pulling my suit jacket open by the lapels. She looks up at me with concern in her big doe eyes.
“You’re hurt,” she says.
I look down. There’s a red patch on my side and it grows bigger as the blood spreads.
I frown. That can’t be right. I don’t even feel any pain.
“I’ll call the doctor,” Anthony says. His voice sounds urgent.
I want to tell him to chill, but I see it too, even if the pain doesn’t register. I’ve been shot.
20
Alice
Pulling the blanket Ana has draped around my shoulders, I step outside onto the grass. My heart is hammering so hard against my rib cage it’s making my whole body shake.
When Seth was lying on top of me, shielding me from the bullets flying around us, I thought his body jolted at some point, and I was worried that he’d gotten shot.
But he didn’t look like he was in pain when he stood up. He even had the strength to knee the gunman so hard the guy crouched in fetal position afterward.
Still, I have to make sure.
I open Seth’s jacket. It’s just as I feared. I look up at him.
“You’re hurt,” I say softly, as if I’m afraid speaking louder could make the wound worse.
He frowns, looking at the blood spreading on his shirt with confusion. By the look on his face, you’d think he has just received some mildly annoying news, like he has just found out his favorite suit is at the laundry when he wants to wear it.
“I’ll call the doctor,” Anthony says.
Seth continues to stare at his wound wordlessly. I’ve heard about people not feeling pain right after an accident; I think I saw it on some documentary. Apparently, adrenaline blocks the pain so you can fight whatever danger you’re facing or run away.
I rub Seth’s upper arm, hoping it can bring him some measure of comfort, even if
it’s just a little bit.
I’m grateful for what he just did, throwing himself on me to protect me. It could’ve been me who got shot. I could’ve died.
I keep my gaze on his face. Seth’s shirt, usually so crisp and clean, looks strange with the bullet hole in it, not to mention the blood. It makes my stomach churn. I can almost feel the lox and the cream cheese trying to crawl back up my throat. I look away, afraid the sight would make me throw up.
Without me there, Seth would’ve had better chances of evading the guy’s shots. He could’ve incapacitated the guy in no time.
I didn’t believe Seth’s story before this. But how could I deny that I’m in danger and he’s trying to protect me, after what has just happened? He literally risked his life to protect me, to keep me safe and alive. Everything is just like he has always claimed.
I still have no idea why someone would be after me, but there’s no doubt now that it’s true. Maybe Seth really is just a good guy who’s trying to help me. Maybe the bad guys don’t need a good reason to kidnap girls. Maybe Seth really can’t tell me anything because knowing too much would put me in even more danger.
I had my doubts, but why can’t all those things be true? He saved Ana, didn’t he?
While Anthony is gone to get the doctor, the other two guys take over. They slide the suit jacket completely off Seth’s body to take a closer look at the wound. One guy opens up a first-aid box.
I didn’t even see him get the box. I guess I’m still in shock, unable to fully process everything that’s happening around me. Everything becomes a blur.
The next thing I know, Seth has a white bandage over his wound. He places a hand over it.
I want to pull Seth into my arms and be the one to comfort him for once, but I’m worried I’d just hurt him. I have no idea what to do to help him.
I take his free hand, and he squeezes mine. His hand feels big and warm and safe.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyes, knowing I owe this man my life, realizing how much of a brat I’ve been up.