Bulletproof Weeks

by Taryn Elliott

She slammed her fist into his gut. “It took it away too. You kissed Lindsey in that barn.”

  “I didn’t.” He shook her. “Those pictures were well fucking timed.” Again, the paparazzi showed the truth and the lies all in one shot. “I wanted to. I even bent my head to. I thought that if I could make myself want Lindsey than I could ignore us. She’s beautiful and talented.”

  She struggled in his hold and he tightened his abs as she drilled her fist into him again.

  “Hellcat.”

  “You don’t tell the woman you’re trying to get back that another woman is beautiful, goddammit.”

  “She’s not you, Izzy. She’s nothing compared to you.” He brought his other hand up to cup her face. “It’s not her face burned in my brain, or her face that I see in every crowd and hope to fuck it really is you and that I’m not insane. That I could catch just a glimpse of you and memorize those eyes that haunt me every damn night. Topaz eyes, my Izzy’s eyes.”

  She reached up and gripped his wrists. “The song.”

  “You. That song is you. You had to know.” He swiped a hand down her shoulder and over the soft swell of her breasts, cupping her almost roughly. He gentled his touch, his thumb found the tight center and swiped around it. “Your skin, the soft pink of your sensitive nipples that harden under my tongue, the honey taste of you under my tongue when you come so fucking hard that the world trembles.” He caught her hip. “That I tremble.”

  She shook her head. “Chemistry.”

  “Your laugh. The way you toss zingers at me as if insults are fucking caresses. I ached for every word, every moan, every bust-my-balls comment, and every laugh. Even when you yelled at me in that barn. Dammit, Izzy. You’re everything I ever wanted. Strong, sexy, and God, yes, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Or will ever know.”

  Fat tears tracked down her cheeks.

  “No, baby. Please.”

  “You let Aimee take that? You let her?”

  “I froze. Nothing I’d ever felt before could match that last night before we went out into that festival. Even that day. The sun was shining and you made me feel normal for the first time in a long goddamn time. Then she was just there.” The world had narrowed to a pinpoint of reality. Aimee’s stench soured the air and contaminated his skin when she’d touched him.

  “You left me hanging, Logan.” Her voice dragged him back. “You stepped away from me and then she was saying all this nonsense. With a smile no less. And the cameras and people were everywhere and you said nothing.” The broken tones of her words shamed him all over again.

  “Izzy,” he said helplessly.

  “What was I supposed to think?”

  The urge to walk away geysered inside him. Anything not to face the pain shimmering in her eyes. Because he’d fucked up. Utterly and completely.

  “I’m sorry, Izzy. I’d say it for every day if I could. All one hundred and forty-four days that you’ve been gone.”

  She swiped at the tears. “It still doesn’t explain all those days. All you had to do was talk to me.”

  He’d give anything not to tell her. He’d dragged her into his shitstorm, had hoped that if he pushed her away that he could deal with it. Shield her from it at all costs.

  And now, if he told her and she wanted to walk away, then so be it.

  She twisted the front of his shirt. “I know there’s more.”

  “Aimee’s been escalating.”

  Izzy tipped her head to the side, a frown gathering her brows together. “Did she try to hurt you?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Some things that Roth had found in Aimee’s past made him damn wary. He wasn’t the first man to have filed a grievance, but he was the only one not to cancel the restraining order. He’d tried to talk to the other men, but they’d shut him down.

  The entire situation screamed payoff.

  Aimee had set her sights quite a bit higher this time. Her parents’ money wouldn’t quiet him though.

  She gripped his sides. “Logan King, you answer me.”

  “No, Izzy.” He swallowed. Again, he wanted to walk. He didn’t want to put this on her. “Aimee threatened to hurt you.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

  “She threatened you.”

  “When?” she whispered.

  “Saturday. As soon as she saw me with you.”

  “But you made the decision we were over before that, right?”

  “No. I—” He’d fumbled, and he’d broken things off. It was by far the easier choice, but he knew himself. He wouldn’t have been able to stay away from her. Aimee took the choice away from him a mere hour after.

  “You made the choice. You didn’t confide in me and you took my choice away. I would have stood with you, Logan.”

  Incredulous, he simply stared. “After four days? Really?”

  “How do you know? You didn’t believe in us enough—believe in me enough.”

  He swiped his thumb along her cheek. “You can honestly say that you wouldn’t have run screaming? You want a home, a family. I’m…” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m such a bad bet.”

  “Done feeling sorry for yourself?”

  He jerked back. “What?”

  “Are you done?”

  Unbelievable. The woman was going to send him to the asylum. Christ. He stepped away from her.

  She caught the tail of his shirt and dragged him back. “No. You’ve walked away from me enough for my taste, Mr. King.”

  ∞ ♦ ∞

  The surprise and anger that flitted across his face were just what she wanted. She wanted him mad. Because she was freaking murderous. How dare that woman think she could control him like that? More importantly, that she could control them. Fuck no. That bitch thought she could pull their strings like a mad puppetmaster, but Aimee was going to find out just how big Bella’s damn scissors were.

  Logan looked down at her hand. “What exactly do you think I could have done differently?”

  “Call her bluff. Walk up to her and pull out her stupid stripe-y hair and toss her off a cliff?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, Izzy.”

  “What the hell is she going to do to me?”

  “She’s no back alley barmaid that’s going to swing a punch in a jealous fit. She’s got connections I couldn’t even dream about.”

  “And what has Marcus Roth done to help you figure it out? Just watch and wait?”

  “No.” He curled his fingers around hers in his shirt with a sigh. “Come sit down and we’ll talk about it like civilized people.”

  “I don’t feel civilized.” She followed him to the couch and swiped the blanket off the cushion. He sat down and she curled into him. Sitting at the other end of the couch wasn’t going to get it done now. “I want to rip her eyes out and feed them to her.”

  “Man, is it any wonder that I love you?”

  Startled, she hit her head on his chin. “What?”

  “Ow. Dammit, babe.”

  She grabbed his beard from each side of his face and pulled him down to her. “That’s the first time you’ve really said it.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in that endearing half-smile that made her insane. “Like there’s a doubt?” He brushed his lips over hers. “Fridays were the best and worst day of the week for me.” He nuzzled her nose. “That’s when Roth sent me a weekly report. A single photo as proof that you were fine.”

  She stroked along the ridge of his brow down his cheek. “You know that’s mildly creepy, right?”

  He let out a rueful laugh. “Now who’s the stalker, right?” He turned his back into the corner of the couch and settled her against his chest.

  She looked up at him. “Does she scare you that much, Logan?” He stiffened and she quickly turned in his arms so she could face him. “No hit to the ego here. Do you honestly think she’s capable of doing something?”

  “I’m not the first. It’s been hard to gather information on her because she’s got a lot of damn mo
ney. Her father has covered up for more than one indiscretion.”

  Her chest tightened. “Like what?”

  “In college there was a guy who ended up dropping out. You don’t drop out of Columbia University without cause. Especially when the kid was on full scholarship. But he enrolled in Princeton a year later with a special endowment. And there wasn’t much of paper trail for what he did for that year off. Not even a work history. He was completely off grid.”

  She frowned. “So, what? You think it was a payoff from her parents?”

  “It goes to pattern. But where was he for that year?”

  Bella settled the blanket in her lap and sat cross legged in front of him. She really needed to be wearing more than just his shirt. “What does Marcus think?”

  “He doesn’t like any of it. He’s one of the best investigators in the security business and even he can’t dig up anything concrete.” Logan raked his fingers through his hair. “I drive him nuts, but I won’t risk you.”

  The idea that anyone could be unbalanced enough to go after her just because she and Logan started a relationship absolutely baffled her. But she’d read more than one newspaper article about how far stalkers could go. To have it actually be a part of her life was the part that she couldn’t wrap her head around.

  “The thing I don’t understand is why? We were barely together.”

  He tucked a lock of hair around her ear. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is that you’re the first woman I really allowed into my life since her.”

  “And the threat?”

  “Was veiled. Nothing concrete that I could go to the police with.”

  She squeezed his leg. “What does that mean? Veiled. She either threatened me or she didn’t.”

  He reached for his phone on the end table, flicked it on and seemed to be swiping through a few folders. “Here.”

  She looked down at the photo. The note was typed on heavy card stock and had obviously been pieced back together. She turned his phone to the side and magnified it to read it.

  You made the correct choice. She was never good enough for you. She doesn’t love you the way I do. She never could.

  I did like walking around her place though. Words are power. We know that don’t we, love? Her world is full of words, new and old. So many pretty books and pictures. So fragile.

  I’m glad you didn’t make me show you how fragile.

  Love,

  Me

  Her place. The threat was there, whether it was actually her or the bookstore, it was spelled out without actually showing anything. It felt like someone actually ran an icicle down her spine. She looked up at Logan. “These are the kinds of notes she sends?”

  “She never signs her name, but it’s always on that paper. Of course you can buy it at any stationery store, but it’s always that paper.”

  She scrolled over to the edges. “I can’t be sure, but it looks a helluva lot like invitation paper.” She handed him the phone. “Like wedding invitation paper.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was told.” He looked down at the picture, his hand tightening on the case.

  “All right.” She took the phone and put it on the table. “We’re going to figure this out. You and me.” She rolled onto her knees in front of him. “No secrets, Logan. Is that everything?”

  “The only other thing I know right now is that she’s in the Mediterranean. Paris before that for New Year’s.”

  “Huh. So that’s what Sarah was bitching about.”

  “Sarah?”

  “My bodyguard. Said she was in Paris just recently. Seemed like my detail may have been a downgrade in her mind.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I’ve had someone paying attention to the both of you. It was a little harder for me to watch Aimee since she has her own security. Her parents being worth a few hundred billion makes her a bit more of a nightmare.”

  “And she seems the type to enjoy an entourage.”

  “You’d be right. The fact that we were together for a few months and I knew how her detail worked was the only reason Roth could get near her at all.”

  “Well, if she’s out of the country then maybe we can actually try for a normal life.” Surprised that she’d said it, let alone thought it, she met his gaze. And immediately knew she meant it. He loved her? That was crazy.

  “Nothing about me is synonymous with normal, Iz.”

  “Tell me about it.” She curled her arms around his neck. “But I don’t want to talk about your psycho ex-girlfriend right now.”

  “No?”

  “No. Let’s go back to that part where you said you love me.”

  He pulled the blanket out from between them and slid his hand under her shirt. His shoulders relaxed as he tipped his chin up to look at her. “I love you, Isabella Marie Grace.”

  She traced her finger over his soft lips. “Again.”

  “I love you.”

  She lowered her mouth to his. “Again.”

  He slowly dragged his fingers up her spine, under the shirt. With his other arm, he settled her over his lap. “I love you.” Breath to breath, the buzz of his voice so close made her sigh. “Izzy, mine.”

  Slower this time, with infinite care, he showed her just how much he’d missed her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Her voice woke him. She was trying to speak quietly, but his apartment wasn’t exactly the biggest place. And the hardwood made voices echo.

  He rolled onto his side and stuffed a pillow under his head. She stood by the window. This time she was wearing the white thermal that had been left on the couch. Seeing her in his shirt tugged at him in ways he didn’t want to study.

  As always, the curve of her hip and smooth legs had him shifting under the covers. He still couldn’t believe she was there. The fact that she hadn’t run out the door was impressive enough, but that she wanted to be with him?

  Daring to believe that was an option had been the furthest thing from his mind. And he was selfish enough that keeping her there was his first priority. Fuck, he’d been miserable without her.

  “Nic.” She sighed and thunked her forehead against the window. “No. I know. Yes¸ he groveled enough.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow. Groveled? Was there a rating scale he wasn’t aware of?

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen. When I know when I’m coming home, I’ll let you know.” She drew on the frosty glass pane, but he couldn’t make out the letters. “I don’t know.” With one last sigh, she swiped away whatever she’d written. “I will. Stop worrying. Yes, I love you too.” She turned around and straightened. “I gotta go.”

  “No need,” he mouthed.

  She shook her head. “Nic, I’ll call you tonight.” She rubbed her forehead. “I swear I’ll tell you everything.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  Izzy swiped a hand over her face, exasperation all over her features. “Yes, honey, I’m hanging up.” She gave a soft laugh. “Bye.”

  “Worried?”

  “She has a Master’s degree in worrying.” She crossed the room, set her phone on his end table, and perched on the edge of the bed.

  He slid his arm around her middle and dragged her under the covers with him. “It’s too cold to be up already.”

  She snuggled back against him. “I agree. But if I hadn’t taken that call, she would have sent the National Guard out for me.”

  The topic was still fresh between them, but he had to know. He tucked his chin into her neck. “What did you tell her?”

  She ran her nails through the hair on his forearm. “Just that we’re talking.”

  “And that I groveled enough?”

  “Oh, you haven’t groveled nearly enough, pal.”

  He smiled into her neck. “You mean all that time I spent making you scream last night wasn’t enough?”

  “Nope, that was just a level one. You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

  That was an understatement. If he was smart, he’d have her on a plane t
o Colorado and hidden away with Zeke’s parents in their cabin that was about as off the grid as was possible with internet connection. But he didn’t waste his breath. Izzy wasn’t the type to hide and she definitely wasn’t the type to take orders.

  “You got quiet.”

  He brushed his cheek against hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever make up for it, Iz.”

  She turned so their mouths met. Soft and sweet, she made that little purr in her throat that had dogged his dreams before she pulled away. “I’m not going to keep score.” Her topaz eyes were smudged with the remnants of her makeup and the proof of just how little sleep they’d had.

  They’d talked until the misty sun washed over the city. Little things dominated the conversation. Each of them trying to discuss anything but Aimee. Her work, his new album, Winchester Falls, and anything in between.

  Afraid she was just a dream, he’d talked until he was hoarse. He wanted as much time as was possible with her. But eventually they’d both finally drifted off. Now, he needed her again.

  He rolled her under him, disappearing beneath the covers to trail open-mouthed kisses along her thigh and her hip. He nosed the waffle-textured shirt up to find her silky belly and dipped his tongue into her belly button.

  Restless fingers slid through his hair and down his neck then made a return trip with the lightest bite of nails. He groaned into the valley where hip met thigh and traced his tongue down the downy soft strip of hair to the little hood of skin that hid what he wanted.

  She trembled as he made a lazy figure eight around her clit and flicked inside her warmth. He closed his mouth over her and listened for all her tells. Her sweet gasps as he found the rhythm she needed. The bite of nails at his shoulder told him he was close. He was relentless. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, not after he’d been starving for so fucking long.

  He slid a finger, then two, inside of her. She was so damn tight. He curled deeper as her pussy swelled around his fingers. He flipped the covers back, needing to see her face. Splayed out and arching up, she dug her heel into the mattress and twisted. He flattened his hand over her belly and used his thumb to come at her from the top.