Deceit in Bloom (The Love Unauthorized Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Michael

  I watch her eyes throughout my entire re-telling of the events. She feels compassion, but she’s also torn between right and wrong. Am I handling the situation wrong? Yes, by society’s standards I am, but I’m a criminal. I can’t go to the police and tell them someone broke into my illegal business, ruined all my stolen merchandise, and made threats against my family. That would only end with Kai and me in jail and Teagan left unprotected.

  By the time I finish my explanation, Paisley has moved from her spot on the chair to sitting on the bed an arm’s length away from me. I take that as a sign she’s no longer worried about her safety. Hopefully, that means our secrets are safe with her.

  “I understand, Burke. I don’t like it, but I understand.” Her hand moves to my shoulder. She reassures me with her touch that I’ve won her over. Damn it to hell but that simple gesture makes me want to throw her on her back and fuck her seven ways till Sunday. More than ever that’s something I can’t do. Fucking a girl who knows all the skeletons in your closet is the worst idea imaginable. She has leverage if she ever feels slighted. She also knows too much for it ever to be a casual thing.

  “Does this mean you’re not going to turn us in?” A situation like this is not one I’m used to. I’m used to demanding what I want and taking what I need. Convincing and asking Paisley to do as I need fucking blows. She holds all the cards, and I’m along for the ride.

  “No. I’m not going to tell.” She shifts nervously again. She wants to ask something else but is nervous about it. I sit and wait while she finds the courage to ask. “Am I in danger? Someone’s been watching us, including me. The envelope was addressed to me. They know who I am.”

  That’s something I’ve been asking myself too. I’d like to say that if she stays away from me and my family she’ll be left alone since she’s not involved in this. But someone brought her into it. She knows details and has evidence that I’m not sure whoever is following her will simply let her walk away with. “I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t know what the motives are of the person doing this. If you’re asking my opinion, then I’d say yes, you probably are in danger. This happening tonight makes you a loose end for whoever is behind this.”

  She doesn’t respond and her eyes are down, blocking my insight into her emotions. She stares at her hands, which are both firmly placed in her lap. I don’t know what to say either.

  “Fuck, Paisley!” My outburst startles her, and her head flies up. Her eyes are watery, but she doesn’t let the tears fall down her face. I can’t stand that she’s in this mess because of me. “You’re fucking bleeding. Why are you bleeding?” There is blood on her feet and a small amount on the floor. How did I not notice the blood before?

  “Oh, I stepped on glass earlier from the broken window. With everything else going on, I didn’t even feel it. It hurts a bit now that you mention it.”

  “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” I leave the bedroom to retrieve some tweezers, antiseptic, and bandages to clean her up. When I open my bedroom door, I can hear Kai downstairs questioning the guy we caught earlier, and I hope Teagan isn’t downstairs watching him. I’m sure it’s not a pretty sight. Hopefully Kai gets more answers from this guy then we did from Anthony. When I return to Paisley, I leave the door unlocked so she knows she’s not a prisoner. Stupid or not, I trust her when she says she won’t turn us in.

  “Lie back on the bed.” Paisley does as I ask, allowing me to pull her feet up to rest on my lap. She has a few pieces of glass in each foot, but it’s nothing serious. I need to concentrate on the task at hand because seeing her in my tee shirt lying back in my bed isn’t helping with my sexual pull toward this girl. She winces a bit as I extract the glass, but she’s tough and doesn’t complain or whine. I remove the last piece, and then clean the cuts with antiseptic. There is a knock on the door and Kai pops his head in. He looks from me to Paisley and back again.

  “She okay?”

  He steps all the way in with his question.

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Just had some glass in her feet from the window. Come get this stuff off the bed and take a look at it.”

  Kai’s been dealing with the guy downstairs, so he doesn’t even know the drama with the envelope yet. He picks everything up carefully and quickly realizes what he’s holding. He looks through the photos and reads the notes with exacting precision. When he finishes, he looks back up at Paisley. Her body tightens with the knowledge that she knows everything too.

  “Everything handled?” He’s directing the question to me, but he still holds Paisley’s eyes. I wonder if he can see the emotion swimming in them like I can.

  “Everything is handled. We’re good. You handle everything out there?”

  His eyes leave Paisley’s and he finally looks in my direction, tossing the stuff in his hands atop the dresser to his right. Tonight has taken a toll on him; he looks exhausted.

  “Not really—the guy’s not talking. I can’t take anymore tonight. I made sure he was securely tied to the chair. He’s in the office since there are no windows in there, and I locked the door from the outside. He should be fine in there until morning. I gagged him so he can’t scream.”

  While I don’t feel really comfortable leaving him alive in the house with Teagan, I also don’t have much of an option. We need him to talk and moving him outside the house isn’t possible. It would be too risky. Hopefully a night tied to the chair will motivate him into giving us some information tomorrow.

  “Okay. Do me a favor and sleep in Teagan’s room tonight. I don’t want her alone with that guy in the house.” I know the last thing Kai really wants to do is sleep on the floor when his own bed is a room away, but he’ll do it. Not because I’ve asked, but because he cares about Teagan too.

  “Done. I have to go take care of that window first. It’ll need to really be fixed in the morning, but I’ll board it up securely for tonight. Plus, I need to take care of all the glass on the floor so no one else gets cut up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Kai leaves without another word.

  “I should probably be getting to bed too.” Paisley goes to move her feet from my lap, but I grab hold of her ankles. I’m the reason she’s in this mess, and I need to make sure she isn’t killed in her sleep.

  “You are in bed. You’re not sleeping alone either with that guy in the house.” She looks relieved and hesitant all at once.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, scoot over and let me in. I’m not sleeping on the floor. Let me take the side closest to the door.” Without a fight she makes room for me in my bed. I join her. I’m drained, but I still find myself staring at the ceiling and going over the events of today. I hope Teagan will drop the rebellious act now that she saw firsthand how serious things are.

  “I’m scared.” I look over toward the sound of Paisley’s voice. She’s on her side facing me. She looks so small curled up in a ball in my bed.

  “Kai would have made sure the guy can’t get loose. You’ll be fine.”

  I roll to my side as well to face her. The moment is intimate, and it’s not something I’ve ever felt in my life before. I want to reassure her, but honestly, here in my bed with her is more out of my comfort zone for me than the guy downstairs. Whatever I say will be less than helpful to her.

  “Not about him being in the house. Just in general. I’m scared of this whole situation.”

  “We’ll figure it out, but not tonight. Go to sleep, and I’ll figure out what’s next tomorrow.” The way she looks up at me with fear in her eyes has me moving closer to her. My hand goes to her hair in a soothing motion that causes my fingers to run down her neck and onto her back. The physical contact seems to calm her, so I let my arm rest around her as she closes her eyes.

  “When was the last time a girl you haven’t had sex with slept in your bed?”

  Her voice is already heavy with sleep. It won’t be long before she passes out.

  “Never, especially as this is the first time a girl has ever slep
t in my bed whether I’ve fucked her or not.” Paisley doesn’t respond, and soon her breathing evens out, telling me she drifted off to sleep. In my arms. Who would have thought this would be the end of one fucked up day?

  Paisley

  Morning taunts me as it takes away the glimpse into my messed up psyche. The nightmare more telling than ever before. For the first time I feel like I have real clues as to what it means. While the events were darker than usual and took a physical toll on my emotionally shaken body, a piece of me wishes I’d seen more. Normal people would wish for the nightmares to go away. I do wish that as my end goal, but I need more pieces to the puzzle if they’ll ever disappear from my life forever.

  Darkness surrounds me. A darkness I’m familiar with. However, familiarity in this instance brings no comfort. Instead, I feel suffocated. White walls close in on me. There are no windows and no lights. It’s just a small room with some basic necessities and that damn flower mural on the wall.

  For the first time ever, there is screaming. A man yelling with wild abandon at a woman who whimpers and pleads. My brain registers that I’m dreaming, just as it always does during this nightmare, but it seems more real than ever. I feel panic like everything from my nightmares is physically happening. I’ve never been able to wake myself, and this time, I hope I don’t wake because I’m finally getting another clue to the stem of these nightmares.

  The man’s words are hard to make out. Everything sounds distorted, as if I’m hearing through a barrier, but I understand the hostility in his tone. Some words pass more clearly through the curtain, and I get glimpses of an obviously angry man. Words like “slut,” “gold digger,” “humiliation,” and “worthless” roll around in the forefront of my mind as they penetrate my dream. As the man’s voice gets louder, my own fear escalates. In the dream, I concentrate on the flowers on the wall. But inside, that part of me that is wholly aware of what’s happening screams for me to focus more clearly on what’s going on outside the room where I’m trapped.

  “Paisley.”

  There is a commotion outside my confinements. It sounds like glass being broken and hard objects being thrown against walls. The hysterical woman has grown quiet, and for whatever reason, that brings chills to my being. The man is still screaming, growing more agitated as time passes. None of his words are coherent to me any longer.

  In my dream, I don’t move. Not even an inch. My panic festers as whatever is happening around me grows more sinister. My chest rises and falls at an alarmingly quickening pace with little oxygen making its way through. My head feels like a weight chaining me down, and dizziness takes over, even though I have not moved from the spot I always occupy on the floor during these taunting nighttime visions.

  “It’s a dream. It’s only a dream!”

  The smell of fire fills my nose, and it’s not long before I’m physically choking on the smoke permeating my lungs. The man’s voice has gone silent and the sounds of destruction are no longer. Smoke fills the dark room, and my body finally leaves the spot on the floor, something that’s never happened in one of my dreams before.

  Through the darkness and the increasing smoke, I find my way to the single door in the room. The only exit that, no matter how much I willed my body to move toward, I couldn’t reach. Somehow the door is scarier than the increasingly daunting situation within the room. Tugging on the handle burns my hand, and I’m faced with the realization my only exit is hopeless.

  “Please . . . Paisley. Please, wake up. You’re okay. I’m here.”

  With a gasp of clean, smoke-free air, I’m pulled from my nightmare as my eyes blink open forcefully. The room no longer exists in my current reality. Instead, as I try to control my breathing, I’m in the arms of a real-life, flesh-and-blood threat to my safety as well as my emotions. Yet, somehow, I feel safe as he pleads in whispers for me to wake up, telling me I’m okay. I close my eyes once again, unwilling to face the day and wanting to stay wrapped in the comfort of his arms before he knows I’m awake.

  Morning has a funny way of messing with my head, especially when my heart is involved. What in the world have I found myself in the middle of? My childhood was filled with chaos and violence, and it seems I have somehow unconsciously searched it out in my present. Problem is that when I should be running from the scene of the crime without looking back in order to hold on to my sanity, I’m more certain than ever this is where I should be. With Burke. With these people.

  Sweat soaks through my shirt and goose bumps still pebble my skin from the life-like fear that had its hold on me. My muscles are achy and tight. With my breathing back to normal, I work to understand what happened and what it means.

  “What was that, Paisley?”

  My body stiffens now that I have to confirm my crazy. The trouble is, how do I explain something to someone else when I don’t have any explanation for myself? I hoped to have a little more time pretending I was asleep to sort more of this out. His hold on me tightens, and I’m sure he can feel the discomfort within my form. A man who has been brutal, intense, and scary brings me comfort with his presence, and I question all my instincts while I cuddle into his warmth.

  “I could hear you, trying to wake me. Your voice infiltrated my dream and tried to pull me from the nightmare.” The words are nothing more than a whisper, but I know he hears them just as clearly as I could hear him while I was trapped in that room.

  “I was worried. It seemed like you were having a panic attack in your sleep.”

  With all the problems we have going on stemming from what happened last night, a panic attack from a dream seems like the least of our worries. We have much bigger things to deal with today, starting with the man held prisoner downstairs. Funny that I’m dreaming about being locked in a room, while the man I’m taking comfort from currently has someone locked in a room downstairs.

  “Don’t you think I deserve a little honesty. I confessed last night to killing a man?” An awkward chuckle leaves his lips.

  “That’s not funny.” While I understand the situation he’s in, joking about it seems callous. His eyes tell me he isn’t unfeeling toward the situation every time he references it. So I know not to take much stock in his insensitive words. Acting unaffected is how he’s dealing.

  “A part of me wishes I could explain it to you, but I’m not sure how. The other part wants me to hide it away forever so no one can see how broken I am.” The truth I’ve never spoken aloud before is overwhelming and leaves me vulnerable.

  “Being broken is a feeling . . . not a characteristic. It doesn’t define you, Paisley.”

  His words are more perfect than I could have hoped for, but they don’t completely reach the depths of my beliefs in myself. It’ll take more than a few pretty words from a man for that to happen. Burke pulls back while still keeping his arms around me. There is a space between our bodies that I want to fill the instant it appears. That space gives both of us an opportunity to see one another better. He’s trying to make sure his words sink in. His fingers make lazy circles on my back, and I find solace in his touch. How’s this the same man who intends to go downstairs and torture a man later today?

  “Will you try to explain it to me? Is this about last night?”

  I take a fortifying breath and try to and detangle my jumbled thoughts in a way I can articulate. “No. It’s not about last night. I have nightmares. Pretty much every night. Usually they are always the same. I’m locked in a dark room all alone. Nothing really ever happens in the dream, but they always bring about an overwhelming sense of panic and fear.” I don’t share about the mural with him, because it doesn’t seem relevant. It also feels too personal.

  “Last night was different. There was more. I heard voices. A man screaming and a woman crying. There was some sort of loud altercation, and then the room I was in started to fill with smoke. For the first time, I actively tried to get out of the room, but found I was stuck. That’s when I woke up. I’ve had the same dream, every night, for as long as I can
remember, and it’s always felt like my subconscious was trying to tell me something. The problem is that I have no idea what it’s trying to tell me.”

  “Do you think it’s a memory?”

  I’ve always wondered. They’re familiar enough for me to think maybe they are, but I am not sure if they feel familiar because they actually happened or because I dream about it so often. I certainly never remember being in a house filled with smoke, but that was the first time that ever happened in my dream.

  “I don’t know.”

  Done with this conversation, I bury my face back into the warmth of Burke’s chest. I hope he’s satisfied with my answers, because I don’t want to share any more on the topic. Between the intensity of that dream, the state of panic I felt when I woke up, and sharing about this for the first time with anyone, I’m emotionally overextended.

  Braelyn knows I have nightmares. There is no way to hide something like that from someone I’ve shared a room with and lived with for so long, but I’ve never confided in her about what they’re about. When we were younger, she used to try to keep me quiet because my late-night episodes used to wake our foster dad, and it was never pretty if that happened. I always felt guilty not sharing with her when she was the one burdened with hiding the disturbance I’d make, but I have never been comfortable enough to confide in her. She also never asked.

  Burke pulls my face away from his chest again. I feel defeated that he won’t let this go. I’m about to speak my piece about needing some space on the subject when he takes me by surprise and kisses me with a force that knocks the wind out of me. His kiss has an effect like none other before. With his lips on mine and his tongue making sensual movements with my own, I don’t have to think about the dream or what it means, the man held prisoner downstairs, or the person who brought me into whatever sick game he or she’s created.