by Eden Summers
I stand in my underwear, head bowed, the soaked mass of my hair curtaining my face like a shield as I stare blankly at the floor.
I can’t be like this. I have to pull myself together. There’s no alternative, but my body won’t comply. I succumb to the burning in my eyes. I cry, the tears flowing silently, the sobs wracking my chest as I brace a hand against the cold tile and purge every last drop of self-loathing.
I surrender to fragility for long moments. Maybe minutes. Possibly hours.
Nothing breaks through until him… Until Decker’s shoes come into view at the entrance of the shower.
“Keira…”
His voice wraps around me, making everything worse and somewhat better at the same time.
I don’t know how to react. I never do with him.
I suck in a breath and straighten, swiping the hair from my cheeks.
Strong hands reach out before me, shutting off the water. I stare at those fingers, the tanned skin.
I summon the strength I need. I create it, building from the inside out. I have no choice. I can’t be fragile around him.
I turn to find him holding a plush white towel, his expression tight. His eyes have lost the taint of concern. They’re different. The comforting depths now portray something I don’t appreciate.
“I’m not weak,” I blurt.
“I know, tiger.”
“Then don’t look at me like that.”
He frowns. “Like what?”
“Like you pity me.” I step out of the shower, my limbs numb as he wraps me in the thick material. Despite my request, I can’t help letting him dry me like a child.
“I can leer at your tits if it will make you feel better.”
Something squeezes inside me. Not my stomach. Not my lungs. It’s bigger. All encompassing. I guess it’s appreciation.
Again, his infusion of humor has endeared me.
“What’s option B?” I repeat his question from earlier, earning a slight tweak to his gorgeous lips.
“While you were…” He waves a hand at the shower, wordlessly referring to my psychotic break. “I did a quick search of the house and couldn’t find any spare clothes.” He wrings my hair, a mass of water droplets hitting the tile at my feet. “You’ll have to wear my shirt.” He wraps the towel around my back, holding the ends out for me to take. “Can you grab this for a minute?”
I clutch the offering in both hands, clinging tight.
He shucks his tailored jacket to the floor, then begins to unbutton his white long-sleeve shirt. I should stop him. I’m sure I could find a robe or a blanket; even a sheet would do. But I keep quiet as he exposes a chiseled chest, muscled arms, and a haunting mass of inked skin.
The art on his arm is a collage of ominous images—a woman in tears, skulls, a chessboard, skeletal trees. I commit the eerie images to memory, none more so than the beautifully written script on his left pec. Delicate text is written above his heart, my gaze skimming over some of the words—gentle, rage, dying, light.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” he drawls, each syllable dripping with cocky menace.
A breath of delirious laughter bursts from my lips.
Through all this insanity, he provides a distraction. This man… He’s crazy. Ridiculously so. And I can’t help the extra hard thump that hammers in my chest as I look at him. Nobody speaks to me the way he does. He’s different, his anomalies always strumming my curiosity.
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat. “How would you like me to look at you?”
His mouth twitches, the hint of a smirk breaking through. “I’m just kiddin’. You can ogle all you like. In fact, if you’ve got some dollar bills, I can put on a show.”
And just like that, my mental break is forgotten. He doesn’t judge me for losing my shit. Doesn’t even acknowledge it happened.
“Here.” He hands over his shirt and takes the towel, diverting his gaze as I pull the material over my shoulders and button up.
His scent envelops me, the delicious cologne masculine and woodsy. It strengthens me, makes me feel stable again. I tilt my face to the side, craving more, and take a subtle inhale against the collar, dragging him deep into my lungs.
The comfort engulfing me is ridiculous, I know that. He’s not a man I can trust. And still I wrap his shirt tighter, stealing all I can get, wanting the material to cling to me like a second skin.
I close my eyes for a brief second, take another deep inhale, and blink to find him staring at me. Watching. His ravenous gaze freezes me in place.
I no longer see an ounce of his pity. His humor is nowhere in sight. What bears down on me is narrowed intensity.
Ferocity.
Lust.
“Decker—” The flare of his nostrils cuts off my sentence, and I tremble, caught between responsibility and potential stupidity.
4
Decker
She smells my shirt, and every hair on my body rises. Those wide eyes slay me, or maybe it’s the perfect body I couldn’t steal my gaze from moments ago.
“I’ll check to see if there’s any food in the cupboards.” My voice is deep, the pitch an unintentional Darth Vader imitation. The only thing missing is the heavy breathing.
“Okay…” She nods. Swallows. Looks entirely flustered. “I’ll be out in a minute. I need to fix my hair.”
I stalk from the bathroom, snatching my suit jacket off the floor along the way, shoving my arms in the holes as I escape down the hall. I clench my fists. Clamp my teeth. I try hard to ignore the multiplication of my perverted thoughts when I usually allow those fuckers free rein.
She just survived a shooting, less than two weeks after her uncle escaped a warranted assassination attempt in the form of a hit and run. And here I am, drilling holes through my pants like I’m a perverted teen.
Seems my dick has a death wish, too.
If only Hunter could see me now. That prick would be laughing his ass off. Torian’s reaction wouldn’t be as funny. I’m almost positive he would hang me from the ceiling by my cock.
I palm my cell and play phone-a-friend to get my thoughts back on track. Hunter answers on the first ring.
“You safe?” he asks.
“Yeah. I think we’re in the clear. We got out of Portland.”
“Good. The cops are chasing their tails here. We’re going to be stuck at the scene for a while.”
I walk into the open living area and head for the kitchen. “What was the end tally?”
“None for none. All the bullets lodged in the roof. Nothing came close to striking distance.”
“You sure?” I frown. “Keira was splattered with blood.”
“That shit is everywhere because of the shattered glass. If you took a look at the scene, you’d think those stupid fucks were rolling around in it for all the mess they’ve left on the floor. But no, no bullet injuries.”
I start opening cupboards above the counter. The first is empty. The second and third, too. Then the fourth holds canned goods—vegetables, soup, pickles. “So, whoever did this is either a really shit shot or—”
“Or it was a warning.”
“For what?”
“Who knows. It could be anything. But once Torian finds out, heads will roll.”
“How’s he handling the drama?”
“He’s an angry fuck at the moment,” Hunter grates. “He’s got a lot going on, and I’m sure I don’t know the half of it. But one of the biggest issues is the cops. They got here too quick. Either the informant is handing out information like flyers on a street corner, or the pigs heard something was going down and decided to leave us out as bait.”
My pulse rises, my anger building. “Do you think they’d leave women in the firing line and not give us a heads up?” Kids had been at that party earlier in the night. Keira’s niece, for one. “I don’t think the authorities would be that callous. They can’t be.”
Hunter scoffs. “You got a sweet spot for the men in blue all of a sudden?”
/> “Oh, yeah, baby. You know me.” I open a fifth cupboard—the holy grail. The two shelves are filled with liquor bottles begging to be consumed. “I’d roll over in a heartbeat for a Taser and a pair of cuffs.”
“You’d roll over for half a bagel and a used cigarette, asshole.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Although, I haven’t smoked in a lifetime. Not since I started working with Hunter and my potential lifespan shortened by a fuckton. “So, what’s the plan from here? What does the bossman want me to do with Keira?”
“Hold tight for a while. With her sister in the hospital along with her uncle, we’re already too vulnerable.”
“Her sister?” My pulse hammers.
“It’s nothing serious. She got caught up in the glass. But we don’t want anyone knowing another Torian has temporarily been affected.”
Shit. “Keira will lose her mind.” Again. “What’s the damage?”
“Nothing major. A few stitches to the side of her face, and some in her arms.”
Great, relaying the third-hand information is going to be super fun. “And I guess I’m supposed to babysit until this blows over?”
“Yep,” Hunter quips. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” I pull a scotch bottle from the cupboard, stroke the frosted glass with reverence, then put the treasure back because there’s no way I can succumb to my hearty thirst until this bullshit blows over. “Keep me updated.”
“Same. I’ll call you later.”
I close the cupboard, disconnect the call, and place the cell in my jacket pocket. That’s when I feel her. Keira’s presence hovers close.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she mutters.
I sigh and stare at the fifth cupboard, eyeing the door, wishing I could crawl in among the goodness. “I know.” I turn to face her. “I was playing the macho card, hoping to make myself seem tougher than I really am. Did it work?”
I force myself to hold her gaze. I can’t lower my attention. I fucking won’t, no matter how much exposed thigh taunts me.
“I’m not joking, Decker. If you want to leave, then leave. I’m safe here.”
I lean back against the counter, cross my feet at the ankles and my arms over my chest. “One minute you’re ogling my body like a starved beast, the next you’re kicking me to the curb? That hurts, shortie.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t even start. Who was on the phone?”
“Hunter.”
“What did he say?”
I pause, pondering my answer. It would be easy to keep her in the dark, just like her brother does. Or I could earn her trust. “Not much.”
Her chin hitches. “Decker, please.”
The plea on those rosy lips is a test to all my senses. She’s too gorgeous for her own good. Possibly the perfect weapon in her brother’s arsenal, if the guy understood her potential.
My gaze lowers without permission, taking in every inch of the seductress. My shirt clings to her chest, the damp patches over her breasts making her bra visible. Then there’s her legs. Those fucking tempting thighs with their perfectly tanned skin. If the material hanging off her was two inches higher, I’d be able to get another glimpse of that lace G-string.
“You were right,” I admit. She hates being kept in the dark, and I’m going to brighten her surroundings a little. “Layla didn’t get out before us.”
Her eyes widen. Her lips part. “Is she okay?”
I nod. “She got into a fight with some shattered glass and came out second best. But it’s nothing to worry about.”
Her gasp splits the air, a shaky hand moving toward her mouth before she stops and drops it to her side. She gains control, reclaiming her strength, even though the fractures still show.
“Don’t panic. Hunter told me she’s already stitched up.”
She steels herself, her shoulders straightening. “Do you promise?”
“I’m not lying. I swear.” I paint an imaginary cross over my non-existent heart. “You can try calling her again if you like.”
“She won’t answer. Cole would have her on lockdown. No communication in or out apart from directly through him until he has the situation under control.”
I bite my tongue, determined not to pit brother against sister. It’s not in my best interests to fuck with Torian. “He’s trying to protect you.”
“From what?” She scoffs and pads toward the dining table, grabbing the back of a wooden chair in a tight grip. “Ignorance is no way to shield someone.”
“Being in the dark is for the best. He deals with some pretty heavy shit.”
“Believe me, I know. I watch the news. I read the papers. And as if that wasn’t enough, I hear the whispers, too.”
Pfft. The media knows jack shit about her brother’s criminal activities.
But her cluelessness is a good thing. It means I don’t have to feel guilty for the respect I have for her. The attraction, too. “Earlier, you mentioned tonight was your fault. Why?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs and lowers her attention to the table. “I guess it was like you said, the adrenaline messed with my head. I kinda lost hold of reality for a minute.”
“You sure?” I scrutinize her, trying to determine if she’s lying or I’m paranoid. Something about her response doesn’t seem genuine. “I don’t want you thinking you’re responsible.”
“That’s sweet. But I’m over it now.”
“Are you lying to me, lemon drop?” I walk toward her, stopping a few feet away. “You were adamant before.”
She meets my gaze, the connection between us growing potent for long moments until she shrugs. “I came up with the idea for the engagement party. I’m the reason we were all there.” She gives a bitter chuckle. “I wanted us to have something nice to celebrate. Something normal.”
I raise my brows, unimpressed. “That doesn’t make you responsible.”
“It is what it is.”
“What it is,” I drawl, “is some truly fucked up logic.”
She sighs and rests against the dining table, her long lashes batting with gentle lethargy. “You have a way with words, Decker. You’re rarely serious.”
It’s my turn to laugh without warmth. “This job is morbid as fuck. If I didn’t have my sense of humor, I would’ve offed myself long ago.”
Her eyes pin me, calculating, as if trying to determine if I’m capable of taking my own life. For once, I don’t enjoy her attention.
“If you can’t have fun with life, what’s the point?” I add.
“You’ve said that before.” Her voice is almost a whisper as she glances to the left, staring out the window.
I push from the counter, not liking her rapid descent into deep thought. “Is it time for a drink?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I might borrow your phone again, though, if that’s all right. I want to call Cole.”
“No problem.” I grab my cell from my back pocket. “You’re not going to rat on me for telling you about Layla, are you?”
“Rat on you?” She rakes her teeth over her lower lip and pushes from the table to pad toward me, her hips holding enough sway to trigger a reaction from my dick. “You expect me to cut loose the only person willing to tell me the truth? Not likely. If anything, you and I just became soul mates.”
“Don’t tease, gorgeous.” I smirk, adding a thick layer of cocky arrogance to mask the way she’s hypnotizing me. “You’ll only break my heart.”
“Not teasing. But I do want to call Cole to see how long you have to babysit” she snips, dealing the backhanded blow with effortless precision.
“Now, now. Don’t get those panties in a twist. They’re the only thing protecting your modesty.”
She chuckles, and it brightens her face enough to increase my pulse. The light blush warming her cheeks doesn’t help, either.
I can’t afford to lose my focus around this woman, but I can see it happening. I can feel it, too.
She stops in front of me and takes the cell from my outstretched
hand. “I’ll try my best not to get you into any trouble.”
“Great.” I nod. Slow. Measured. Panicked. Because she sure as shit made that sound like more of a threat than a promise.
5
Keira
I palm Decker’s cell and walk from the room, needing privacy and distance. One more than the other, although I’m not entirely sure which is more important at this point.
I dial Cole’s number then bite my tongue as he barks, “What is it?”
“It’s me.” I keep my voice low.
“Keira? How are you? Where are you? I tried calling—”
“I left my cell in the restaurant because some jerk shoved me into the arms of one of his goons and demanded I leave.”
“That jerk was trying to keep you safe.”
I roll my eyes. “I can keep myself safe, brother.”
He sighs. “I don’t have time to argue with you right now. Hunter said you’re out of town. Where, exactly?”
“The safe house.”
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one?” I accuse. “Since when?”
“Fuck.” His frustration echoes down the line. “We’ll discuss details later. Just as long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”
“I am. Decker has everything under control. He’s been perfect.”
“Perfect?” The disapproval in his voice is loud and clear. “Is he close by?”
“In the kitchen. Do you want me to get him?”
“No, what I want you to do is be careful.”
I continue down the hall, toward the far end of the house, glancing over my shoulder every few steps. “Yeah, I know. You don’t have to warn me.”
“He’s still new. And reckless. And a motherfucking smartass. His attitude doesn’t sit well with me.”
“So why make him my white knight? I should’ve stayed with you.”
“It was good timing and the perfect opportunity.”
My pulse increases. “The perfect opportunity for what?”
“Keeping an eye on him. Getting inside his head.”