Paths (Killers #2)

by Brynne Asher

“Weston, the one Maya told us about.”

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?” Weston explodes. “You cannot be with this guy. You’ve been mine for twelve years. I’m warning you, Maya. Do not do this.”

  “Enough,” Crew interjects. “She doesn’t want you here, that means you’re trespassing and since I’m with the woman who owns this land, that means you answer to me. If you don’t leave on your own, I’ll make you—and trust me, you do not want that to happen.”

  “Maya.” I look to Weston and his anger has brimmed. Weston MacLachlan isn’t used to taking orders, except maybe from his father. Even then, it’s a crapshoot if he obeys. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to come to your senses. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.” He starts for his car, but after taking a few steps, turns back to me in the darkness and looks straight into my eyes with his evil ones, proving he’s the monster I remember. “Still can’t believe you’d leave and not keep in contact with Joseph. I’ve heard he’s home and not doing well. Maybe I’ll check on him myself.”

  A panic I haven’t experienced until now erupts inside me, my stomach dropping. I twist out of Grady’s hold and hiss, “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Weston cocks his head, his anger turning into something he loves—the upper hand. “Dare? I don’t know about that—Joseph is practically family. Or he would’ve been, but you changed that.” He looks to Grady then back to me, narrowing his eyes, his face hardening when he sneers, “You’d better get to bed, Maya.”

  My heart catches for me, but more so for Joseph, because I know what Weston’s capable of. Watching him get in his car and drive off into the darkness, I realize my life just changed. The choice I made months ago, damning the consequences no matter what, just came to fruition.

  Here come the consequences.

  Chapter 7 – Lethal Recipe

  Grady –

  I follow her in and shut the door behind us. She doesn’t say a word or look back at me, but this house is so small I can see from here that she goes to her closet. Pulling a sweater over her head, she settles on the edge of her bed and drops her face to her hands, appearing to try and get hold of herself.

  I have no idea what just happened, but I do know it’s opened a can of worms. I had a feeling she was holding shit back, but I had no idea it could result in what just went down. If anything, I have a million more questions about Maya Augustine than before, and they have nothing to do with food.

  What I do know from having Maya in my arms and my mouth on hers, is I’ll do everything I can to figure her shit out fast. Not only do I need to know everything about her now, but I want more of her, and soon. When I walked up and saw her barely dressed—visibly cold through her thin tank—I had no idea who that shithead was, but I had the burning desire to kick his ass off her doorstep to get him away from her.

  Yeah, something might’ve clicked the first time she laid her hands on me, but tonight? Tonight, Maya Augustine ruined me.

  I decide to give her a second and pull out my phone. No surprise—I already have a text from Crew.

  Crew – He’s gone, watched him leave on the cameras. What the fuck was that?

  Me – I saw someone approach and could tell she was upset. I came right away. You ever pull her background?

  Crew – No. Addison took her on right when you and I left. She seemed boring, no need.

  Me – I want it by tomorrow along with that asshole’s—Weston MacLach-something. I’m sure he’ll be in her report. Get the name there.

  Crew – Done. I’ll get with Asa. He was still at the camp working and was waiting in the wings with the men in case we needed them. He heard it all and might already be on it.

  I leave it at that, not in the mood to answer any questions about me being here with her. When I go to her bedroom door, she’s still sitting there, looking shaken by what just happened.

  “So,” I begin, startling her in the process.

  “Quit sneaking up on me.” Her face is troubled, etched with anxiety.

  “You knew I was here. I’m not sneaking up on you.”

  “Still.” She sighs and rubs her face. “Stop it.”

  “Anyway,” I keep on and move into the room to stand in front of her. “Never thought to ask if you were engaged. That would’ve been an interesting question.”

  She looks up quickly with big eyes, telling me she thinks I’m absurd. “I’m not engaged.”

  “Not everyone agrees with that.”

  She stands, coming almost toe-to-toe with me to defend herself. “We were on and off for almost three years. It was more off than on—for me at least—but I officially cut off the engagement a year ago. Something…” she swallows and tries to finish, “something happened and it was the last straw. I was done.”

  “Hey.” I reach up and tuck her still damp hair behind her ear. Keeping my hand there, I lift her chin to look at me and lower my voice. “Relax. He’s gone and won’t be back.”

  She grabs my wrist firmly and it’s easy to see the fear in her eyes. “He will. Now that he found me, he’ll be back. He’s relentless, he’ll never leave me alone. It’s why I left when I did.”

  I pull her close, liking the way she fits against me. Her body pressed up against mine was like nothing I have ever experienced and I have to fight from getting hard.

  “Grady?” she calls, her voice muffled in my chest as she fists my sweatshirt in her hands.

  I rub her back. “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Now he won’t only be after me, but you, too. I have a feeling I just dragged you into my nightmare.”

  I close my eyes as I breathe in the fresh scent of her hair, burying my face there. She’s tense, not like earlier when I had my mouth on hers, so I press my lips into the side of her head. “Don’t worry, I can handle it. If he comes back, I’ll know. I don’t want you to worry, especially not right now.”

  “Why did you come, anyway?”

  I sigh, thinking how best to answer. Now isn’t the time to tell her about the surveillance system, even though I’m not sure when would be a good time to tell a woman she’s been under heavy security for months, not to mention that I’ve been watching her. “I was out for a walk to get some air. I heard your voice and knew something wasn’t right. You need to relax and not think about it. Can I get you something?”

  I feel her breath against my skin, her warmth spreading through me.

  “Like what?” she mutters.

  Keeping her where she is, I shrug. “I don’t know. A carrot?”

  A single laugh erupts, her body moving against mine. “A carrot?”

  I grin into her hair. “Yeah, a carrot probably makes all freaks like you feel better, right? Maybe some fungi? Or, I could just get you a drink. Bourbon, coffee, tequila, gin? You probably have some juiced spinach sitting around here somewhere.”

  She tries to push away from me, but I only let her go enough where she can look up. Shaking her head, her face is still distressed. “You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with Weston for a long time, I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m not leaving after what just happened. Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.”

  She grips my arms and bites her lip.

  “Maya? Spinach or wine?”

  “I have a bottle of wine in the fridge.”

  I tip my head and lift an eyebrow before turning to make the short trip to her kitchen, muttering, “I’m glad it’s not juiced spinach.”

  I find a half-empty bottle of white wine sitting with all kinds of food I’d never want in my refrigerator or purchase to begin with. After looking through th
ree cabinets, I find a wine glass and fill it full. This place is so small, it wouldn’t be hard to find anything in here.

  When I turn back, I don’t hand her the glass, but tag her hand to pull her the short distance to the small couch.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, but I ignore her.

  I sit first and pull her down next to me before handing over her drink. Her couch might as well be a two-seater, so it works out well for me to pull her tight to my side.

  “There.” I grab the remote before putting my good arm around her and scoot down in the cushions. When I start to flip through the channels, I sense how stiff she is next to me. “Drink up, Maya. You’ll feel better.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I look over. Her face is makeup-free and her golden hair is starting to dry. I’m getting used to having her close and have no desire to give that up, but right now her beautiful face is confused as she clutches her wine in both hands.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I told you, you don’t have to stay. I already feel bad you had to endure all that. I’ll figure out what to do about Weston, you can go.”

  I narrow my eyes before looking back to the TV and continue flipping channels. I don’t look at her when I ask, “Tell me how you’re going to take care of that guy.”

  She tries to shift to get up, but I hold her tight. “I just need to think it over—”

  “You can think it over tomorrow,” I interrupt and pull her farther down into the couch with me. “What do you like to watch?”

  “Grady—”

  “Maya.” I have to speak over her to get her attention, but she finally shuts her mouth when I turn her to me. I lower my voice and explain one more time. “Drink your wine. Relax. Don’t think about that asshole, even though I’m sure that’ll be hard to do. He thinks I’m here with you, so this is where I’m gonna be. Now, what do you like to watch?”

  Maybe she finally understands I’m serious, because she sighs. “The Food Network.”

  I tip my head questioningly. “You like to cook?”

  “Yes.”

  I turn back to the TV and pull up the guide to find her channel. When I feel her relax against my side, I mutter, “Now that I know you like to cook, I may never leave.”

  When I find her channel and we start watching some woman stir the contents of a huge pot, I hear her call for me. “Grady?”

  “Yeah?” I kick up my feet and cross one ankle over the other on her old coffee table.

  “You’re being weird,” she states before taking a sip of her wine.

  “How’s that?”

  She tries to face me even though we’re plastered side-to-side on her tiny sofa. “Ever since you started talking to me, you’ve either been frustrated with me or asking me a million questions. This mellow-nice-guy act is kind of freaking me out.”

  I smirk. “I guess we’re even then, because since you started speaking to me, you’ve been nothing but flustered—at least when you’re not pushing vegetables on me—or inflicting pain.”

  “You’re not going to ask me anything about Weston? He’s a jealous, territorial man. I practically threw you under the bus by kissing you and pretending you’re something you’re not.”

  I turn, looking straight into her light blue, worry-filled eyes, and whisper. “Are you engaged to that guy?”

  Her answer comes quick and meaningful. “No.”

  I lean in as close as I can get and continue whispering, “Do you want to be?”

  Her forehead creases and she gives her head a little shake. “I hate him.”

  I could tell that was the case, but even so, it feels good for her to show how much she means it. I didn’t think she’d be a woman to yank my chain.

  Since she’s close and I want her skin on mine again, I lean in the rest of the way and put my lips to her forehead. “Then that’s good enough for me. You’re upset, I don’t want to add to that. We’ll talk about it tomorrow after you’ve slept.”

  “Really, you don’t have to sta—”

  “Drink your wine and watch TV,” I insist, turning up the volume. “Do you like all the shows or are there healthy nutsos on here that are your favorites?”

  She finally gives up—hopefully for good this time—and I put my arm around her. “I like them all.”

  As we settle in and watch some chick chop up something or other, she sips her wine and slowly sinks into my side. I bring my hand up to her hair and start to finger through it as I wonder about Maya. I wonder what went down tonight, her past, and why she’s here.

  When this show ends and the next one begins, her weight becomes heavy and her breathing evens. I shift as she turns, settling her into my chest.

  Just when I thought having Maya’s hands on my bare skin was everything, holding her as she sleeps just moved into first place. More of that focus I lost comes into view, but like before, it’s different.

  All of a sudden, I don’t care about her background. I need to know it so I can get rid of that asshole giving her grief, but other than that, it doesn’t matter what’s in her past.

  I’ll handle whatever I need to and hopefully pave a path for what could be an us. What I do know is having that to focus on feels almost as good as her sleeping against my side.

  Focus and Maya—a lethal recipe I never imagined would be what I’d need to get me back to me. But as it settles by the second, I know this is it.

  *****

  Maya –

  I roll, barely opening my eyes. It’s lighter than normal, making me shoot to a sitting position because it’s always dark when my alarm goes off. My eyes shift to my small nightstand to check the time. I’m late—really late.

  As I jump out of bed, still in my sweater and lounge pants, the last thing I remember is watching Everyday Italian with Grady. I was warm and comfortable. I remember trying to talk myself out of being freaked out about Weston finding me, which is as bad as it could get, while allowing myself the comfort of Grady. I certainly don’t remember going to bed.

  It takes ten minutes to get to work and I have to be there in fifteen. There’s no time for a shower.

  I push down my pants and grab a pair of jeans off the floor. When I turn around, I yelp as Grady makes the turn into my bedroom saying, “You’re up.”

  He stops immediately and his eyes drop to my bare legs.

  It’s not like I’m indecent. I’m wearing panties and my sweater drops almost below them, but I still can’t help holding my jeans in front of me.

  “What are you doing here?” I half-yell in an accusatory voice.

  His gaze slowly moves up to my face, not at all trying to hide the fact he’s raking his eyes over me. When they finally reach mine, he shrugs, which I’m finding he does a lot. “Went home to shower and just got back.”

  “You slept here?” For some reason, my voice keeps getting higher, accusing him of something, when really, he’s guilty of nothing besides sneaking up on me. Again.

  “Sleep is a relative word with me. I dozed. You must make a habit of not being aware of your surroundings. You didn’t notice when I carried you to bed last night, or when I left to shower, or when I came back this morning. You should really be more cognizant.”

  “I’m a heavy sleeper,” I say, my tone still accusing him, like it’s somehow his fault.

  He tips his head and gives me a small smile. “Why are you talking to me like that?”

  “Because you’re here and I’m not wearing any pants!” If that wasn’t the queen of accusations, I have no idea what would be.

  He has the nerve to huff a single laugh and cross his arms, but he makes no
move to leave my bedroom. “Then you should put your pants on.”

  “You need to leave. I need to get dressed—I’m late and need to leave for the Ranch in less than five minutes.”

  He looks me up and down again before slowly shaking his head. He turns, but I can still hear him say, “Then you’d better hurry, we need to be on our way.”

  I was about to slam my bedroom door so I could dress in private, but I stop at his words. Instead I rush to the doorway and watch him dig through my refrigerator. “What do you mean we?”

  Without taking his head out of my fridge, he answers, “Not letting you go to work alone while some asshole who thinks he’s gonna marry you is roaming the countryside.”

  Still grasping my jeans, I declare, “You are not coming to work with me.”

  “I am,” he answers into my fridge as he pulls out a container of left-over garlic mushroom quinoa. He opens it, sticks his nose in and grimaces before quickly covering it, returning it to the shelf. “Hurry up. Looks like we need to get breakfast on the way.”

  “I don’t have time to make a stop. You can go on your own since you’re leaving.” I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing, but after last night, I don’t need to add to my worries by dragging Grady into the mess that’s my life.

  He turns, looking back to me. “You’re still not wearing pants, Maya.”

  “Holy shit,” I exhale, giving up. I step back and slam the door. At least I can get dressed. If he wants to hang out here all day, so be it, but he’s not coming to work with me.

  I pull up my jeans as fast as I can and rip off my sweater and tank. Throwing on a bra and clean shirt as fast as I can, I brush my teeth, pull my hair back into a tie, and grab my mascara. I can at least swipe lip gloss on while at a stoplight. It’ll have to be enough for today.

  When I throw open the bedroom door, Grady is standing by the entrance of my bungalow looking intently at his phone. I ignore him as best I can and go to the fridge, grabbing a protein shake and an apple. This will have to do.