I listen to it for a while, letting my mind drift back to when I was sixteen or so.
I was at home, watching a movie on TV. I was all alone, had the house to myself, so it must've been summer.
It was some crime drama or something, and I remember getting really into it when suddenly someone had their hands over my eyes. I screamed bloody murder, jumped out of my skin.
And instantly, Kaiden apologized.
Big, hulking Kaiden came around in front of me, looking so upset that he’d scared me. He came home for a visit, and just wanted to surprise me. I had leapt up, into his arms, and he'd spun me around like I was nothing more than a feather, and we spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch just talking about nothing.
A lump formed in my throat. I wanted so bad to get back to that, to just forget all this had ever happened.
To forget that mom and dad had died, that my college money was spent on Kaiden's bail, that I had to live with him and work in a sleazy bar.
Kaiden's TV shuts off, and it must be around four in the morning; we are both pretty much nocturnal now. I hear him shifting, getting comfortable beneath the blankets.
I picture him lying there, one arm strewn over his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling, bare-chested as the sheets gather around his waist. It's still warm out and we don't have air conditioning, so I imagine his leg strewn over the blankets, barely clinging to modesty as he closes his eyes.
And then I tap, softly, on the wall.
It is barely more than a touch of my knuckle to the drywall, but I know he heard it.
He simply doesn't respond.
"Kaiden, you remember that time when I was fourteen, and I was supposed to have that birthday party? It was going to be princess-themed, remember? Mom bought all those pink decorations, plates and balloons and streamers, had them up everywhere. I was so excited, I just couldn't wait. I'd invited all my friends on these little themed cards, and told you that you had to go and that I didn't want you there. I was just so embarrassed to have my big brother hanging out with my friends, stealing all their attention."
I pause, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue.
"But then... my friends all just... didn't show up," I say, my voice strained and I can feel tears burning at my eyes. "They all had just decided that princess parties were too young, not cool enough for them, and they never told me. So I was just sitting there in my dress, waiting for them all day. Mom kept telling me to come inside, to just open presents with the family, but I was in disbelief that they'd stand me up. That they'd be so mean."
The pain still feels so raw. I had been so humiliated, so hurt. They'd told me the day before, promised me they were going to come.
"And I was crying on the steps when you came home from being with your friends. You were skateboarding back then, remember? And a lot skinnier, but I think you'd already gotten your first tattoo and your tongue pierced, and you always had that stupid mohawk," I say with a bit of a laugh. "When you found out what happened, you were so mad, and I remember you ran inside, right to dad's closet and grabbed one of his suits. It didn't really fit, but you smoothed out your hair, and you offered me your hand, and introduced yourself as Prince Charming. Mom and dad put on some music, and you made me dance with you until I stopped crying and started laughing."
I smile at the memory, remembering his young, punk rock phase and how hard he always looked, but for me, it was nothing but affection.
He still hasn't said a word, though, and I worry he doesn't remember, or doesn't care. It makes my heart hurt, and a tear spills down from the corner of my eye.
He was my hero back then.
He was my everything.
But after that party, I started having feelings for him. Feelings I shouldn't have, and I started pushing him away. Little bits at first, and then when he turned eighteen and moved to a different town, it was easier to forget all of it and pretend like it was nothing but a girly phase. I dated, tried to move on and have my own life. But now here I am, back under the same roof as him, and my feelings are burning stronger than ever, even with my anger.
I swallow back the lump in my throat, the hot air feeling so heavy on my chest, and I push down my blanket, my nightgown already damp with sweat.
It's minutes later when I finally hear him, his dark, rumbling voice penetrating the wall.
"I remember, Princess."
That nickname again, this time said with such tenderness instead of scorn and mockery. I sob again and try to quiet it, trying to fight the urge to break down. I can't handle him hearing me like that.
“I miss them so much.”
“I know…” There’s a brief pause. “Even though I hadn’t seen them in a while, I still expect to go home and find them there, like nothing has changed.”
I don’t know what to say to that, because even though I know they’re not there, part of my mind tricks me into thinking I just haven’t seen them in a while. As if they’re not really gone, they’re just not around.
The thought breaks my heart, and I push it away.
"I miss you. You always looked out for me, even though you never had to," I whimper, my voice pathetic.
"I tried."
He's still being short with me, but at least he's talking. That makes me feel a little better, and I imagine opening my door, going to his room, curling up with him. Feeling his skin against mine. Just like we had on the couch all those times. I don't even know what part of him I'm craving. The part of him that makes me feel like he's my hero, that he'll always protect me? Or the part of him that makes women lose their minds, willing to give up so much just for a chance to sleep with him?
I shudder at the thought, because deep down, I know I want both. I want him, wholly and utterly.
"When did things get so... fucked up," I say softly, my body sticky, and my sex throbbing with heat. The tension between us is driving me mad in more than one way, and his words keep echoing in my mind. The intensity in which he had said them.
"I don't know, Abby," he says with a deep gravel to his tone, sleeplessness getting to him too.
"Was it the drugs?"
"Naw... that was just a side effect."
"Then why? Why'd you move away?"
There's a long pause, and I'm afraid he won't answer. Lord knows I'd asked him that question enough over the years, and never got one. The clock in the kitchen ticks past the seconds, the sound echoing through the quiet of his house. I start drifting between sleep and wakefulness.
"I didn't want to hurt you."
His voice makes my eyes flutter back open, and I wonder if I heard him right."You hurt me more by leaving," I croak in return, that lump in my throat making it hard to even speak.
Another long silence spreads out between us, and again I want to go into his room, to see his face. But it's easier like this in some ways, not knowing.
I lick my lips.
"You never even told me you got arrested. Mom and dad, they never told me..."
"I asked them not to," he says quickly. "I didn't want to worry you, Abby. You didn't need that on your plate, not with college coming up."
"But they spent all my college money on that. On your bail, and it still hasn't gone to trial?"
"It's not fast and they've been delaying it. And I didn't know mom and dad... I didn't know they were in so deep. I never would've asked otherwise, but I didn't want to owe that asshole anything more than I had to."
Was he talking about Ryder?
A chill went through me, and my anger gave way to exhaustion.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply as we both drift to sleep.
Chapter 7
"We're going to get this done, Ryder. This is the last fucking bit of your shit I'm moving, and after that, I'm done. No more threats, no more fucking with Abigail. She gets fired; that's it."
Ryder is giving me the smuggest fucking smile, and I feel like pummeling it off his pretty boy face. He looks like a movie star, but he’s colder than any man I've
ever met.
I sneer at him, folding my arms across my chest.
"This is it, Ryder, do you understand? You let this thing go to trial, you get me off, and you let her go if I do this for you."
"Sure," he says in that way that makes me instinctively not trust him.
But I don't have a choice.
There's only one way I can deserve Abigail, and that's if I get clean of this mess I got into trying to run from her. From how she makes me feel. No woman should ever make me feel like she does, and I've fucked dozens of them trying to prove that to myself, and my thoughts always go back to her.
Abigail.
From the way she tugs on her hair when she's angry to the way she always frowns at her reflection right before going out. Everything about her just gets in under my skin, and when I saw how she looked at me the other night... I was going to lose my mind if I didn't at least see if she felt the same for me.
Even if it meant running drugs with some of the worst people I've met.
"Fine. Tonight, you do this thing for me, and you and your little sister," he says, waving in the air, "can go. But if you fuck up? She's the one that's going to pay."
Chapter 8
"Drinks, shots?" I'm trying my best to treat this like a normal night, but I have a bad feeling in my stomach.
I woke up excited to see Kaiden this morning, but he was already gone.
No note, no text, no nothing.
And my instinct is to worry that I scared him off again and put more distance between us.
I give one of the men at the table his whiskey and cola, glancing around the bar. No sight of Kaiden, but honestly, that wasn't unusual. I'm just being paranoid.
I move to the next table, handing them their drink before going back to the bar. It's a slow night, and I'm getting exhausted fast.
I refill my shot glasses, putting others in the dishwasher when I realize I forgot my phone in my purse. I curse and, with a quick apology to the bartender, run back into the office. It's pitch black, but I always put my bag in the same place. I find it and turn it on, hoping for a text from Kaiden, but there's nothing.
I sigh, and then I hear the shifting of a chair. Gasping, I look up to see Ryder approaching me slowly. I didn't even know he was working tonight. He usually takes off before midnight.
"Sorry, Ryder, I just needed to check my phone."
He tut-tuts.
"Checking your phone on work hours? I didn't take you for such a bad girl," he says, and through the light of my phone, I can see him leering at me.
I remember back to my first day when I met him, liking the way he looked at me. His gorgeous face, his strong, masculine form... it was hard not to be attracted to him.
But now all I feel is fear, and I think he can kind of sense it. Especially when he reaches out and touches some of my hair, his hand grazing along the shell of my ear.
I flinch away and his smile widens.
"But I bet you are a bad girl, aren't you? I see you, prancing in here with your short skirts, your low-cut tops, just begging for it," he says, his hand running down my neck. I'm too scared to even move, though I'm desperately trying to force my legs to run, to get me away from him.
For Kaiden to come in and save me.
Anything.
His smile is feral, and I can smell his cologne in the air as he leans in, tucking hair behind my ear and whispering in it:
"I bet you like it up the ass, huh? Prissy girl like you already looks like she's got somethin' stuck up there."
He grabs my wrist, and I try to yank it away, only for him to put more force into it. Making my hand touch against his bulge, his hand moving overtop mine and making me feel it throb against my touch. I pull away, but he pins me to the wall with his body, his scent overwhelming me.
And then it's all over. He pulls back and returns to his desk as if nothing happened, clicking on the desk lamp once again.
"Get the fuck outta here, girl, you got a shift to finish."
I didn't have to be told twice.
I ran out the door, back into the dingy club and the oppressive music. My skin is burning with heat and anger, fear almost crippling me. But I can't tell the bartender what happened, so I grab my tray and simply go back to work.
Kaiden, where are you?
Chapter 9
I have a really bad feeling about this. Already the guys I'm supposed to meet are running fifteen minutes late. I've dealt with a lot of bullshit over the years running drugs for Ryder, and I know that when someone's late it's because they're getting cold feet. And the only reason someone truly involved with this business gets cold feet is because they're planning on screwing you over.
I sit back in the seat, looking at the guy next to me. He's shorter and scrawnier, looks like a junkie, but I know he isn't because Ryder won't hire a junkie. Too big of a risk of losing product.
His name's Mustang or something stupid like that, but I've worked with him a couple times before and he's surprisingly sharp.
We're in the middle of nowhere, but I recommended the spot. I don't know why, but when we were kids, Abigail's dad and my mom took us here. I guess it was just to show us a life outside of suburbia. We spent days going from small town to small town, talking to people, spending the night in "mom & pop" motels.
And then we went camping, out in the middle of nowhere, just us and the stars. We purposefully tried to find a place that was just far enough away from anything that we could feel really alone.
A bonding exercise, mom called it.
Abigail and I shared a tent, stayed up so late just listening to the little night critters come out and scuttle around, telling each other ghost stories and giggling until mom and dad had enough and threatened to take us back to the city.
I look back at the desert, over the utter darkness that sprawls out in all directions and let my stomach and heart turn to steel. This is for her, I remind myself. If I can do this one thing for her, just get us out of this place...
I don't have time to finish my thoughts. There's headlights in the distance, probably a few miles away, heading towards us. I nudge Mustang. He gets out of the van, and I follow, my hand on my gun.
Chapter 10
I check my phone again, feeling terrified.
Ryder's words, the cold way he'd said them... I want out, but how can I leave without Kaiden getting in shit?
I'm in so far over my head, and I keep fucking up drink orders, which I never do. I'm a perfectionist, even at this, but I just don't have my head together. I give another apologetic smile to one of my regulars — Ryan. Every day he orders a rum and coke. So why did I bring him a whiskey?
My hands are shaking as I take the drink back, but he's looking at me with concern. He's probably forty or so, I guess, and even after a couple of drinks is nothing but a gentleman, which is more than I can say for anyone else here.
"You alright, darling?" he asks with none of the aggression of most of my clients, and I give him a half smile.
"Yea, sorry. I'll go fix your drink," I apologize, but he reaches out before I can and lightly grabs my hand.
"C'mon now, Abigail. I ain't never seen you less than chipper, even when that guy laid hands on you. You always come back like nothin's the matter, so this gotta be serious," he says, his voice lowered.
I hate it when people can see right through me.
Sometimes I just wear my emotions too clearly, but he's right. Here? I've been able to suck it all up and just hide it, but not tonight. I'm really, genuinely worried. I just have this feeling in my stomach like something is very, very wrong.
I bite on my lower lip, shaking my head.
"It's nothing. I just haven't seen Kaiden lately and usually he's here by now." How stupid do I sound? Most customers know my relationship with Kaiden isn't great and even a ton of non-regulars have seen us fight more than a couple times. Ryan has definitely seen more than his fair share of our screaming matches, despite his insistence that I'm always chipper.
I t
ake a deep breath and shake my head before looking back at Ryan and giving him an apologetic half smile.
But then I see something in his eyes. Something that confirms everything I dread.
My shoulders slump.
"Oh my God, what's wrong? What's happened?" I ask, and my blood turns to ice. He can't be dead. I suck in air, my heart racing as panic grips me, and Ryan's hand tightens around mine.
"He's had to work out some things with Ryder in the desert," he says, and the apologetic tone...
Ryder's going to kill him!
I glance up at the bar just in time to see the golden hair of Ryder making his way past the crowd to the door, pushing out. Seconds later I hear the rev of his bike, and I pull away from Ryan.
I don't have any control over my actions as I run out the door, jumping into my car.
I have to save him!
***
I know this road.
Just a hazy, faded memory of being down here before, past the strange, colorful mansion, recessed away and lit with blue floodlights. It looks just as I remember it, and the memory of playing a stupid car game fills me.
"I spy, with my little eye, something that is green!"
"Come on, Abby! That's so easy. There's nothin' green out here 'cept that house," Kaiden says, punching me in the arm. We're too old for these games, but we've been driving forever and we're both getting bored out of our minds.
"Fine, fine. I spy, with my little eye, something that is purple."
Kaiden looks around, trying to figure it out in vain, and I feel really smug that he can't see it. But then he spots it in the distance, a weird little lighthouse mailbox, painted purple, and he points at it with a grin.
I pass off the same mailbox, and I know where Ryder's going. This was the way we drove when we went camping that time, so many years ago.
In the middle of the desert, so far from everything...
Dread grips my heart. Ryder's way off in the distance, and I have my lights turned off. I know how dangerous it is, but getting Ryder's attention is way more dangerous, and the road is abandoned this time of night anyways. There's not even any street lights illuminating the way, and the sound of Ryder's bike booms loudly.
Owned by the Hitman: A Mafia Romance Page 21