“Damn it, Olivia, you’re out here alone in the middle of the night!”
“Uh, naturally,” she nodded, spreading the water apart with both hands. “Seeing as that it is night.”
“Don’t be a fuckin’ wise ass,” he snapped, shooting her an angry glance.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ caveman, then,” she hissed in turn.
The hint of a smile played at his lips. “Guess, I deserved that.”
“You did,” she murmured, feeling the anger drain away. “I don’t understand why you are so upset with me.”
He stared at her hard. “Accidents, things out of our control---they happen all the time.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me!”
“But, what if it did?” he said hoarsely.
At the sight of the pain in his eyes, her heart hurt.
He really was scared for her.
“Jarrod,” she said softly. “I’m fine. I’m safe here. Nothing’s going to happen, okay. I’m sorry that I scared you.” Desperate to kill the solemn mood, she gave him a huge smile. “And I’d have to be---to do this!”
Laughing, she splashed at the water, giving him a fresh bathing, and then she broke past him. In the watery background, she heard his deep chuckle.
The chase was definitely on.
When she’d almost reached shore, the water was waist deep.
As his arm snagged around her waist, she squealed in delight and surprise.
“Not so fast, my little mermaid,” he muttered, giving a deep laugh, and pulled her against him. “I’ve got you now---there’s no more running away from me.”
At the contact, their laughter died.
Vulnerable, lost, heated, in turmoil, needy, wanting, desperate….
Every emotion that she had sprang to life.
She turned to him.
Again, she was struck by his attractiveness.
The water droplets clung to his black hair and trickled along his face. In fine streams, the water ran down the planes of his hard chest and taut abdomen. Though the water was cool, the dangerous heat rose between them.
Their gazes locked.
“Jarrod,” she whispered helplessly, staring up at him. “I---”
He laid a single finger against her trembling lips.
She shivered.
Felt his shudder.
“Olivia, what are we doing?” Jarrod rasped, grabbing her face in his hands. “What we’re doing, it isn’t right.”
The hurt played on her face. “Why?”
“Things are so complicated, in ways that you don’t even know. The way that I’ve handled things to this point---it’s all wrong.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered again, swallowing hard, and felt the threat of tears. But, she forced them back. “Why isn’t it right? Why wouldn’t it be?”
Under the moonlight, he watched her, and his emotions burned with pure fire. And it was if he were learning every aspect of her that he could, she mulled, taking in a ragged breath.
She clung to him.
As he traced the outline of her lips, she trembled against him.
Taking his thumb, he pushed them apart.
Her breath escaped in a rush.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, right now?” he asked thickly, framing her face in his hands again. “And all I’m thinking is what right to I have to mar such sweet and beautiful innocence.”
“Jarrod,” she said on a breathless whisper, so caught up in the moment. “I don’t understand.”
“And it’s good that you don’t.” Closing his eyes, he blew a frustrated breath before freeing her. “Come on. Let’s go before you catch a dead chill.”
Hurt, disappointed, she nodded, all the while blinking back tears as she followed.
Once they reached shore, she headed for the spot where she’d dropped the towel. Her hands trembled as she picked it up, and so absorbed she was, she didn’t hear him as he stopped behind her. When he placed both hands on her shoulders, she jumped.
“Here, let me help you,” Jarrod rasped, taking the towel from her.
“T-thank you,” she mumbled, turning around.
They were standing so dangerously close.
The heat seared her body.
She stared into the wall of his chest.
His breathing was ragged.
And then she understood.
He was fighting the same fight.
With that knowledge, she looked up and her gaze clashed with his.
The intensity nearly made her crumple to the ground.
They needed no language.
For deep down, their souls already knew and were prisoners of their dangerous attraction.
His eyes flicked over her.
With a subtle slowness, he wiped her face with the towel, and he took his time, tracing every line along her face, it seemed. He moved onto her the firm column of her neck and dried it slowly with the towel. When he reached her chest, she stopped breathing.
His eyes met hers again.
She trembled.
“You’re cold?” he asked, and his voice was unsteady. “I was afraid that you’d catch a chill.”
Suddenly, mute, she nodded.
“Come here.”
As he moved closer, she did the same, bringing their bodies in full contact.
She closed her eyes against the fiery fury of sensational madness and forced herself to breathe. And he was affected by their closeness, too, she realized, feeling his hard shudder.
He wrapped the towel around her fully. “Better?” he asked, lifting her chin, and at her quiet nod, he clasped her hand in his. “Let’s get you back to the bungalow.”
They walked in silence.
Minutes later, they’d reached the bungalow.
When they reached the door, she turned to face him, but wouldn’t look at him. “I really could have made it back safely,” she mumbled, staring at his chest. “But, thank you for walking me back. Goodnight.”
As she moved to turn away, he caught her wayward hand in his. “Olivia, wait.”
“W-what?” she stammered, finally looking at him.
“It’s not my intentions to lead you on or hurt you,” he said, moving closer. “It’s in both of our interests not to rush things, especially when we don’t know where they’ll lead. I hope that you understand.”
The pain stung her again.
Just in how many ways could he hurt her?
“Jarrod, I think that you should go. There’s nothing more to say,” she said, firming her shoulders. “And you’re right---we don’t need to rush things.”
He released a pent-up sigh. “Olivia---”
“Nothing happened, right? I’m not going to force you into something that you’re clearly not ready for or even want,” she muttered, fighting to maintain composure. “I suppose that I should be thankful for your candor. Most men would just take advantage of the situation and walk away.”
“Damn it, Olivia. It’s not that way, and you know it,” he shot back angrily. “I just want you to realize that I’m just not after sexual favors---”
Suddenly, defeated, she shook her head in confusion. “No, I don’t know, Jarrod. I don’t know what you want from me at all. It seems that the closer that I get to you, the more you run away.” She closed her eyes again. “I’m tired. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ll be back tomorrow to help with the paperwork---”
“I won’t be there.”
“What do you mean you won’t be there?” she asked, feeling hopeless all of a sudden.
Nothing seemed to be working out!
He looked at a spot above her head on the door, avoiding her gaze altogether. “I have business to tend to back in the States.”
A feeling of loneliness surged through her, one she hadn’t felt in weeks.
She gulped hard. “How long are you going to be gone?”
“A week, two weeks---who knows?” he shrugged. “However long it takes to settle the deal.”
“Does Meghan know?” she asked quietly, chilled all over. “She’s going to be devastated that you won’t be here.”
And so I am, she thought, feeling the tears rise.
She blinked them back fast.
“She didn’t take the news too well,” he sighed. “And that’s to be expected.”
She held his gaze. “She’ll miss you terribly.”
And so will I---
More so than anyone…
“When are you leaving?”
“At the break of dawn, which is a few hours from now. After I leave here, I’m going to pack and get the boat ready for departure,” he muttered, studying her close. “I was on my way to tell you earlier, not realizing that you were playing sea nymph. While I’m gone, please refrain from swimming alone and at such a late hour. It’s far too dangerous. If you go too far out and catch a cramp---”
She gave a sad smile. “Jarrod, stop. I promise that I won’t go out alone.”
“I know that you had it in you to be a good girl,” he said with a quick smile. His eyes locked with hers again. “Well, I suppose this is it. I’m going to get an early start.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Have a safe trip.”
He gave a curt nod. “I will. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Turning, he walked down the pebbled path, and she watched until he fell out of sight.
She pushed the door open to the bungalow and stepped inside. When she was safely within, she crumpled to the floor.
Finally, the tears came.
Chapter 10
The north side streets of Atlanta were dark and dreary except for the old dilapidated buildings that hadn’t seen any occupants in years. Well, maybe cockroaches and rodents resided with the rats that conducted illegal business deals here, Jarrod deduced, turning the customized, jet black SUV onto 21st Boulevard.
And the very rat that they were meeting on the late Saturday night was the worst of the worst.
Over the last week, things had gotten pretty heavy, especially since he’d crippled some illegal operations with a few high dealers. And while he was working with the feds, not even they were aware of his latest maneuver. But, then again, he thought darkly, they didn’t have a personal stake in it like he did along with Marc. It was only fair that they had a right to render their own brand of justice and restitution, especially after what Addison had done to them both.
He frowned.
Everything that they’d done thus far was legit.
Well, except for maybe now.
But, this maneuver only ensured that they hit Addison hard in the gut. Once they got what they wanted out of the criminal, they’d gladly turn it over to the feds. Hopefully, soon, they’d be able to put the crime organization under for good, and Addison and his prodigal son would justly receive the appropriate punishment.
As for now, tonight, he mulled again.
He was about to make the son-of-bitch dance to his drums.
A light mist began to fall.
Certainly, at this time of the year, it was a staple in the southern city. Right now, he’d much prefer basking under the island sun, being with Meghan….
And Olivia, he mulled, and his face flushed in the darkness. Even miles and worlds apart, she still affected him greatly.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Marc asked, casting him a fast glance from the passenger’s side. You haven’t said a word for miles.”
He shrugged. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Let me guess: Olivia Lange,” Marc finished for him. “I’m afraid to ask what kind of what-the-fuckery you have going on with that disaster. Dude, please tell me that you’ve come to your senses and ended that charade.”
“Olivia’s out of it. She’s no longer a part of my scheme against Addison. I’m going to do everything in my power to protect her from that son-of-a-bitch.”
“When are you going to realize that she was never a part of it?” Marc probed, scrolling the screen on his cell phone. “From day one, this thing with Olivia Lange has been about you and only you.” He pointed an accusing finger at him. “Tell me that I’m wrong, and I’ll call you a lying bastard straight to your face.”
“You once told me that you’d dig me out if I was buried alive,” Jarrod murmured, slowing the SUV to a near crawl. So, far he hadn’t been alerted to anything suspicious along the dark cresses of the alleyways. “I’m ten feet under with no chance for survival.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Marc replied, sending a surprised look in his direction again. “After all this time, are you finally ready to face the truth and admit that you love the woman?”
The streets were darker now.
Not a street lamp illuminated a single thing.
A gentle wind swept through, rustling the trash and debris that hovered along the fringes and corners of the darkened alleyways.
“I care about Olivia,” he admitted, keeping a hand on the steering, and cast a look out the tinted window. “We’re friends and I just want her to be happy---”
Marc shook his head. “Nope, I’m calling bullshit on that one. If you’re going to lie to someone, at least don’t do it to yourself. You want me to help dig you out? Well, I’m tossing the first shovel---admit to yourself how you really feel about her.” He paused briefly as if in thought. “What excuse did you give her for leaving?”
He stared ahead.
Again, he was sickened at his own lies.
Every time that he did, he felt smaller---unworthy of her blind faith and trust.
“I told her that it I had a high-stake business dealing,” he quipped tightly. “What else could I say? Telling her that I was about to stage a meeting with a murderous, lying mafia kingpin certainly didn’t seem a viable option.”
The prepaid phone rang on the console.
In an instant, tension filled the dark confines of the SUV.
After five rings, he picked it up. “Sabatino,” he muttered tersely, gripping it hard.
The voice was thick and heavy on the other end. “Turn on 22nd and enter through the old baker’s shop. We’ll be waiting on the second floor. Take the stairs.”
The phone went dead.
“You think it’s a trap?” Marc probed, already loading bullets into the semi-automatic pistol. “Too bad, I don’t plan on becoming one of their helpless rats.”
“No doubt the bastard is packing plenty of heat,” he muttered, turning onto 22nd Street, finally spying their appointed meeting spot. “We have our own fucking arsenal, too, and that scumbag will figure that out fast enough. And when you’re dealing with nasty filth, you have to become scum as well. It’s the only way to beat them at their own game. ”
Jarrod pulled the SUV to a stop beside the old baker’s shop.
He took a fast glance around.
A round of quick, subtle flashes nearby signified that his backup was there.
He killed the engine.
Johnson-Lorde’s Bakery---once a thriving delicacy operation on this side of the southern city, he mulled, listening to the quiet sounds of the deserted area. At one point during the early 1960’s, it’d served as the secret meeting place for illicit business dealings, much like now. Though, the structure was still intact, it still showed signs of tear and wear. Once red in color, its bricks were now a tarnished orange, and in places, a few of them were crumbling to pieces. The lettering on the old baker’s shop’s window had faded with the ages and wasn’t even decipherable now. No glass panes filled any of the windows at the three levels. Still, the large square spaces were obscured with dark shadows.
A black stretch limo was parked at the curb.
At the front entrance of the baker’s shot, Addison’s henchman hovered.
“Here,” Marc muttered tersely, passing the pistol. “Already loaded and ready.”
He kept his gaze on the henchman while accepting the weapon.
Without saying a word, he opened the SUV’s door.
In silence, he and Marc
treaded ahead.
As they approached, the henchman stepped from the door. Dressed all in black, the criminal’s thug matched the night. Though, his white pale skin was the clear outlier. “Is it just the two of you?” the henchman asked, tensing, tightening his hold on the assault rifle, and blocked their path. “There better not being any more motherfuckers getting out that SUV or you’re both dead.”
“Where’s Addison?” Jarrod snapped, barely restraining his anger. “And if you don’t back the hell up, you’re going to find your guts spilled on the ground.”
“If I were you, I’d take heed of his warning,” Marc added, raising a brow. “Don’t let Jarrod’s baby face and pretty features make you think that he’s a softy. The mofo is a loose cannon when you get in his way. Like he said---dude, back the hell up.”
The henchman’s face hardened, but still, he relented as he stepped aside. “The boss is waiting for you on the second floor.”
No light illuminated the space as they stepped in.
Jarrod swept a quick gaze around.
The area was completely vacant.
He led the way to the stairs.
Their ascent was quiet and slow.
Hell, didn’t they both realize what was at stake.
They reached the next floor.
On this level, there was faint light, and the dim bulb positioned overhead flickered intermittently. The tension rose as they strode along the hallway and headed for the sole room on the entire level.
To no surprise, another henchman waited at the door.
But, obviously, this one wasn’t intent upon any interaction, and the henchman only gave a fast nod before announcing their arrival. “Sabatino and Angelo are here,” the man barked through the closed door.
“Send them in.”
Stepping aside, the henchman allowed their entrance.
The door closed behind them.
Attached to a long cord, the light bulb dangled from the ceiling, swinging back and forth in a slow motion. Still, it emitted bright light into the large room. A vacant table rested at the center with nary a chair. At each corner of the room, a muscular thug stood, packing enough heat to wipe out many in an instance.
But, he had enough heat to level the place, he thought darkly.
The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) Page 17