by Unknown
“Fuck,” Blake muttered, easing farther down on the mattress. The move cost him, as familiar pain throbbed in his chest and out to his arm and shoulder. It sucked almost as much as his inability to communicate with Abbey.
Kwami threw his gloves across the room as he entered his apartment. He bee-lined to the fridge and snagged a much-needed cold brew. He opened the bottle and chugged half as the cold air of the open fridge wafted over his hot skin. It was a fucking million degrees outside and he’d made it even hotter by torching his ride. The dark Guinness tasted bitter on his tongue, and Kwami welcomed the bite. After another minute in front of the fridge, he sat his ass in his comfortable massage chair. After paying for two years of Mal’s private high school and two years of college tuition, he’d splurged and gifted himself with this bad boy last Christmas. Wiping a hand down his face, he settled in the soft leather and turned on the controller.
The rollers in the chair went to work and Kwami forced himself to relax. The shit was going to hit the fan soon enough, so he planned to enjoy a few minutes of peace.
Kwami snatched the remote and turned on the flat screen. He flipped the station to the local news to see if his handiwork made—
A smile curved his lips as the helicopter camera showed his gift to the inner city. The black Mercedes he’d jacked was now a burned out piece of shit. It was possible the owner didn’t even realize it was gone yet.
The last hour began replaying in his head. He’d been so close to taking the girl out. The dude too. The guy’s face popped into his head. Again. Why the fuck did he look so familiar?
His phone rang and he reached in his pocket, checked the number. Damon. Kwami hit Talk. “Qué pasa, man? What’s up?”
“What’s up is I never heard from you? Did you get her?”
So much for his relax time. “Not yet. But I will.”
“You sound pretty relaxed for a dude who’s going to eat a bullet if they manage to ID you. Facinetti’s going to take you out before the cops get near you. He won’t want the hassle, K.”
“It won’t get to Facinetti if you keep your mouth shut. I’ll get her.” Kwami said.
“Damn bitch is going to pay for making me shave my ’stache, you can count on it,” Damon said.
Kwami listened to him complain for another minute before he ended the call and tossed his phone on the table. Killing her had seemed the smartest thing because it eliminated the chance of her identifying him.
Except she’d been too fast. He’d been a second away from creaming her on the sidewalk, but the shithead down the road had warned her. Kwami hadn’t so much as heard him yell as see his mouth move and because of that, he’d been the next target. But why did the shithead look so familiar?
The massage cycle ended on the chair and Kwami got up to pace. The guy, the guy… Who was that guy? He knew him. He was sure of it. Dark hair, light eyes. Dark hair, light eyes.
That was it. There were four all together, but two of them had been twins. “Well, fuck me.” Kwami rubbed his jaw, thinking back two years. “What was the name? The name?” He wracked his brain. There’d been six family members all together and the mom had been one hot piece of ass…shit what was the name? It was simple. Smith, Jones…no… John! Yeah, that was it. Wait. No. St. John! That was it. He was one of the St. John twins.
Kwami wiped a hand across his jaw. “The one with two full earlobes, or the one without.” Facinetti had told him to take the whole ear off, but Kwami hadn’t been able to. He’d barely managed to slice off the chunk he had without puking. But he’d laughed and talked through the whole thing like it was business as usual. That had been one hell of gig. He’d barely gotten away.
But this brought up a whole new bag if issues. What if the kid saw him today? What if—between both of them—they made a positive ID and connected him to any of the Facinetti family? He’d started working for Michael not long after Paul had been sentenced.
Now he had two people to get rid of. Just what he needed.
“What were the fucking chances of this happening?” he muttered to himself.
The TV cameras cut back to the burning Benz. He hadn’t left any prints because he’d been wearing gloves, but he saw no reason to take any chances. No hair or DNA to find if everything in the interior gets incinerated. As it definitely did by the looks of things.
He may not have gotten what he wanted today, but he had to admit it was a hell of a ride. Besides, he had no doubt he’d succeed. He had to. He’d take the advice he dished to his brother. Do the work and you’ll get what you want. That’s why he always had a job and always made top dollar.
It was only a matter of time with these two. A matter of time.
Chapter Seven
Abbey eased the door open and stepped into the dark office, now Blake’s room for the immediate future. She’d never been more torn in her life. To be living under the same roof with him, even for one or two nights, was almost more than she could handle. He made her itch to do things she didn’t want to do. He made her think about all the natural things she’d possibly—probably—been missing out on as an adult.
The road rash on his arm cut a livid red distinction from the sleeve of the white T-shirt he wore. He’d thrown back the comforter and only a clean beige sheet covered him from the waist down.
Gingerly Abbey sat at the edge of the bed and set her hand on his arm. “Blake? Wake up. I need you to wake up.” The EMT had been very clear about not letting him sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time until they knew for certain he really didn’t have a major head trauma. Abbey wished for the thousandth time that Blake had gone to the hospital to get checked out. Why was he so stubborn? She shook his arm again. “Bla—”
“I heard you. I’m up,” he croaked out in a sleepy voice. He turned his head toward her, his eyes just slits of blue. “Why’d you creep in so quiet if you planned on waking me up?”
“How do you know I crept? Maybe I came in with a bullhorn.”
“Liar,” he mumbled, but he was smiling and that made her smile.
Don’t be so cute! God, he was nearly irresistible when he grinned like that. “How do you feel?” She leaned over and felt his forehead for fever.
“I’m good as long as you keep your hand there. Feels good. Nice and cool.”
“Are you hot?” she asked. He didn’t feel hot.
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He just watched her with that devil look in his eyes and made her feel self-conscious about her tank top and sleep shorts. That was when she realized he was taking her question in a completely different context and heat warmed her cheeks. “I’m feeling sore,” he finally told her. “Kind of like… I don’t know. Like I got hit by a car.”
She smiled at him because he was so damn adorable. But her better sense shoved its way forward and slammed some reality into her. She didn’t have the tools to make a relationship work. She stood to leave, but Blake grabbed her hand.
“Don’t go. Stay a while. Please.” He patted the space next to him on the other side of the bed. “C’mon. I promise to be good.” His eyes drifted shut for a second.
Lie down next to him? She swallowed her nervous tension. This was Blake, a nice guy she’d known for over a year. He never did anything to make her uncomfortable. She managed to do that all by herself.
“C’mon, Ab. Consider this a horizontal chair. You’re just gonna sit and hang out for a few minutes.” He looked so sad Abbey couldn’t refuse him. She crawled over his legs and settled next to him on the bed, keeping a good distance between them.
“Why are you in Siberia?” he mumbled. “Too far away.”
“You’re going to be asleep in less than a minute. It doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to me,” he murmured. He fumbled for her hand and found it. Closed his fingers around hers. “Thanks.”
She barely heard the word before he got it out. Then he was fast asleep. Abbey gently took her hand back and set her watch alarm for another two hours. Now she should go
back to her own room. Blake was asleep and wouldn’t know either way if she stayed or left. But she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. In fact, she did the thing she’d never thought she’d ever do. She slid her hand back into his. He didn’t budge, so she eased a little closer to get a better view of their clasped hands.
He had more road rash on his knuckles and a fresh surge of sympathy oozed through her veins. His big hand engulfed hers. It was warm and strong even as he slept. He was always so strong, so competent and sure. From the first day she’d met him he’d been in control. He didn’t have a shy bone in his body. His very hot, cut, gorgeous body.
God, just thinking back to the afternoon when the EMT had sliced off his shirt, she’d wanted to run her hands along the divide between his chest and abs. She’d wanted to taste his skin in those little valleys.
Who are you? It was a good question to ask herself since she’d never thought she’d have these feelings or urges. Ever. Of course it didn’t mean she’d ever make good on them either.
Though they’d iced the whole side of his body where he’d slammed into the tire, the bruise on his face was already showing. His cheekbone and eye were going to be a solid purple and black tomorrow. Her lids got heavy as she watched him. Poor guy.
Abby’s watch alarm went off—the sound of an old time European ambulance—and she jolted awake and shut it down. The room came into focus and it wasn’t hers. A wave of heat flushed her skin. She’d fallen asleep in Blake’s bed. Next to him! Her panic faded as she turned to him, his eyes closed, his breathing steady. A wave of embarrassment washed through her quickly followed by remorse for having to rouse him from sleep again. She yawned and gently touched his shoulder. “Blake?”
“I’m awake. Who could sleep through that siren of an alarm?” he asked in a sleepy croak.
Grinning, Abbey cocked her elbow and leaned her head on her hand. “My sister for one.”
“No way. I don’t believe you.” His gorgeous blue eyes opened and stared right at her.
“Honest to God, truth. Bernie can sleep through an earthquake.”
“Bernie?” he asked.
“Short for Bernadette. She’s my big sis.”
Blake gingerly adjusted on his side, bent his arm under his head to see her better. “How much bigger? By how many years?”
“Four.”
“How come you never told me about your sister?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It’s not important. It’s just never come up.”
He watched her so closely, as if he could figure out her life story if he stared long enough. “Tell me something else about you.” His voice sounded sleepy and sexy and Abbey wished she were brave enough to let herself go with him.
“Like what?” At his impatient glare, she smiled. “What’s to tell? Really? I work for Julie, I’m a dancer, I have one big sister and my parents moved to North Carolina to be with my Dad’s parents a couple of years ago. That’s my story.”
“You just told me the only things I already knew about you.”
She hadn’t told him any of that besides Bernie. “How could you already know?”
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you’re going to ask me that knowing I work for Troy, a private investigator?”
“Does that mean you were investigating me?” She didn’t know if she should be angry or flattered.
“No,” Blake replied. “It means I wanted to know more about you because you won’t ever talk to me.”
“That’s not true,” she argued. He made a wide-eyed face at her and she had to come clean. “Okay, maybe sometimes I’m not great at conversation.” One dark eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Maybe more than sometimes,” she admitted. But if he tried to get more out of her now, she’d be out of here faster than he could blink. In fact, it was way past time for her to leave this bed. She lifted her head and eased back.
“Don’t. Please, Abbey. Just stay. I promise I won’t ask you any questions. Just stay with me. I sleep better with you here.”
She shook her head and fought back a tired grin. “You’re sleeping because you tangled with a Hummer, you’re loaded up on ibuprofen and you’re wiped out.”
“You take the comp out of compliment, you know that?” he asked.
She settled next to him again and they watched each other for a long minute. “Well this is fascinating,” she murmured.
“I don’t believe it,” he said in a lazy drawl. “Two jokes in one day. I must have landed in an alternate universe.” Keeping her grin under wraps wasn’t possible and he smiled back at her. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are when you smile like that?” His raw whisper hit her on a cellular level.
Heat burned up her cheeks and she blinked. How was she supposed to answer that? “You make it sound like I never smile.”
“If you do, it’s not when I’m around. You have no idea how much I want to change that.”
“Blaaake.” She drew out his name, a warning to stop because she didn’t know how to make it any clearer that nothing was going to happen between them.
“Abbeeeey,” he replied softly. He was too sweet and she smiled from the warm fuzzies at the way he said her name.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He watched her for a second and sighed. “Okay fine. You don’t want to talk about you. Let’s talk about me.” He rolled onto his back. “What do you want to know?”
Now this she could handle. “I know you have an older sister, two older brothers and Brendan is your twin brother, but who’s the older twin, you or Brendan?”
“Me, of course. Thank God. It’s about the only thing I have to lord over him.”
“Spoken like a true big brother.” She grinned at his sidelong glance. “I met your sister.”
Blake shifted on his back and tried to adjust his pillow, and Abbey leaned in to help him when he grimaced in pain. “When?” he finally asked when he was comfortable enough.
“During filming. Julie introduced us one afternoon. I only saw her a few times, but she seemed really nice.” Payback was a true story based on Jess Bryant’s life. A story that involved not only her husband, but her whole family, including Blake.
“My big sis. I’m really proud of her.” The slight curve of Blake’s lips hinted at a grin. “She worked herself into the ground for that film.”
Abbey still didn’t want to ask him about being kidnapped. The topic opened the door to sharing, and she wasn’t great at talking about herself, but remembering the movie and seeing Blake so banged up now had her emotions riding a thin line.
His whole family had gone through hell and she didn’t know what to say. “That whole ordeal must have been a nightmare.” Without even thinking, she reached out and took his hand.
Blake could’ve died and gone to heaven right at that very minute. The way Abbey said his name made every wish, dream and fantasy he’d ever had about her seem like a possibility. It was the first time Abbey had ever reached out to him while not in a crisis. He would’ve made a joke about it, but doing so would only push her away. He knew her well enough to guess that.
It had bothered him that in all this time she hadn’t said one goddamn word in sympathy for his being kidnapped and tied up for the better part of four days. Her lack of interest had actually curbed his rampant desire to get her under the sheets.
Watching her wide green eyes shining in sympathy and concern made him feel like a total heel for being mad at her all those months ago. Time had pretty much gotten him over the anger, but he’d filed it away as ammunition whenever he got soft around her, whenever he’d catch himself staring and daydreaming about touching her or kissing her.
“You don’t need to look at me like that,” he said softly.
“How did you…? How are you? How did you deal with that?”
He saw her looking at his ears. “You’re thinking of Brendan. My ears are fine. Intact.” The names had been changed in the movie so only people really close to the family knew it was about them.
“But still. The ending of the movie. Is that what really happened?”
“You mean, did the whole family get shot?” He nodded. “All true.”
That sympathy was back as Abbey’s brows knit together. “And everyone recovered from it okay?” She adjusted from sitting on her shins to crossing her legs in front of her. Her mile long legs gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the window and he fought the urge to reach out and touch all that soft skin.
Blake couldn’t help but grin at her tone. “You did see the movie, right?”
She smacked his arm. “Don’t make fun of me. It was still a movie and just because it was based on true events doesn’t mean that’s what actually happened.” She glanced up to the ceiling. “Whenever I ran into Jess while doing stuff for Julie, she was so nice to me. Like we were friends or something.”
“You talked to her?”
“Not a ton, but a couple of times. She was kind of busy, producing and directing.”
Blake nodded. “Yeah, she worked her ass off. Tanner and she didn’t go on their honeymoon until after she’d finished up in editing. Jess had actually cornered Blake midway through production when he’d visited the set and asked him point blank what the situation was with Abbey. He hadn’t been able to hide his feelings from his sis. Jess had a made a point to talk to Abbey a little bit more just to see if she passed inspection. “She liked you,” he said.
Abbey narrowed her eyes at him.
He laughed and regretted it instantly when a shock of pain zipped through his chest. “I’m serious. She thought you were very nice and very good at your job. She thought it was sweet how much you take care of Julie.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re very good at taking care of the people you care about.”
She dipped her head, shy. She really didn’t know how to take a compliment. He felt her slipping away.