by Alexa Rynn
God, what the hell had he been doing? Listening at the door?
How about a little privacy in my own home!
I was so embarrassed that I could have died. Relax, Bella, I told myself. It’s not like he knew I was thinking about him while I touched myself. A lot of women masturbated; it was a perfectly natural way to express and explore one's sexual needs. I mean; I had needs, too! I wasn’t easy; I wasn’t just going to jump into bed with anyone, so, that meant sometimes I was left to my own devices! I had nothing to be ashamed about!
But still, I could feel myself starting to blush.
“I’ll be right there,” I called. “I just want to… shower first.”
Shooter swung around and looked me up and down. I could tell he wanted to make an inappropriate comment, he wanted to call me out, tease me about what I could be so dirty from but instead, he just shook his head. “You can shower after breakfast, Bella, we don’t want the food to get cold.”
I could hear the sound of his feet on the steps heavily. He had said it in a way that was more of a command than a request. I knew I didn’t have to listen to him, he wasn’t in charge of me, but still; I found myself obeying him.
I grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and wiped my hands clean then took the steps downstairs quickly, smoothing down my hair as I went and grabbing a sweatshirt off the sofa in the living room and throwing it over my head. It wasn’t exactly sexy but it was an improvement over the matching pajama top Shooter had seen me in last night. I could add it to the long list of humiliating moments I seemed to be having in front of him.
The table was completely decked out. Plates and plates of food sat in front of me; eggs, bacon, pancakes, bagels, sausage, hash browns, coffee, and a bunch of different kinds of juice. A plate was already made for me and sitting at my spot on the other side of the table, it was pilled so high that it was threatening to start overflowing at any second. How much did he think I could eat? And where the heck had all this food came from? We didn't even have half of this stuff in the house!
“How much do you think I can eat?” I grumbled, plopping myself down in the seat. I was being a brat, I knew I was, but I was still recovering from the fact that Shooter had caught me touching myself, kind of. “Where’s my dad?”
“He already ate and then went to bed.” Shooter poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from me, picking up the newspaper and flipping through it half-heartedly. “And what’s the problem? You could stand to put a little weight on if you ask me.”
The realization that my father wouldn’t be with us made me feel weird all over again, it would just be the two of us; down here, all alone. I told myself to relax; it was just breakfast in my kitchen; not a sex factory. I picked up a piece of bacon and popped it into my mouth so I wouldn’t say anything stupid. I’d never had a man call me skinny before, I was practically twice Amber’s size, the idea that I could put on some weight was laughable to most people.
“Where did we get all this?” I asked as Shooter flipped through the paper, looking bored. The idea that he read the newspaper was funny to me for some reason. It was out of place with his bad boy image somehow. He went out at night causing havoc and committing crimes then came home and kicked back with the world news?
“I went to the store,” he said nonchalantly.
“When did you have time to go to the store?” I asked, shocked.
Shooter shrugged. “I went after my run.”
I practically choked on the greasy fat that was traveling down my throat. “You went for a run? Jeez, what time did you wake up?” I shoved a piece of pancake into my mouth and let the juicy syrup wash over my body. The truth was that I was enjoying this. My father’s idea of a home cooked meal was a T.V. dinner so if I wanted anything fresh I had to make it myself and between all the hours I put in at the hotel downtown it was hard to find time for cooking. I always felt like I was on the verge of falling asleep.
“Around 5,” Shooter said, still barely looking at me. “Just like every day.”
I tried to not let my mouth hang open. “Why in the world would you do that?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. There’s too much to do to sleep away the day.” He glanced at the clock on the other side of the wall like he was judging me for sleeping until ten on a Saturday.
Only... I wasn’t exactly sleeping the whole time.
“Well, I could never wake up that early.” I took a long sip of my juice. “So, how was my dad’s mood when he got home? Did he eat a lot? He normally only has cereal for breakfast so I bet he was loving this.”
“He was fine.”
“What was his mood?”
“I don’t know, Bella, his mood was his mood!” He tossed the paper down onto the center of the table. “Do you always talk this much in the morning? This is kind of my winding down time. You know when I reflect on my night and the tasks I need to handle for the day.”
“Hey,” I pointed out, “you’re the one who wanted me to come right down here first thing.” I reached over and grabbed the coffee pot from in front of him and poured myself a huge mug. “And I really love to be chatty first thing, it’s like, my favorite.”
I had been trying to be condescending but it backfired within seconds because Shooter took a huge bite out of his plate of eggs and then leaned back in his chair, draping one of his arms over the back of the chair next to him. “Great, let’s talk then. What’s the deal with your mother issues?”
I choked on the coffee that was in my mouth and sent it flying all over the front of the table, soaking the white table cloth that I had never seen before in my life.
Shooter handed me a pile of napkins and then leaned back again. “Mother’s day is tomorrow and your father was telling me last night you always shut down at this time of year so let’s talk about why.”
I laughed, trying to recover from my obvious uncomfortableness. “He said… he said what? Well, that’s ridiculous.” I lifted my coffee to my lips again but my hands were shaking so hard from the lie that I had to put it back down again. Besides, who knew, maybe I would start choking again.
“Is it?”’ Shooter asked, clearly not believing me.
“Yes,” I lied. I wasn’t sure what bothered me more; the fact that my father would say something like that to this man I barely knew, or the fact that my father knew how bad I struggled with the fact that my mother was such a nonexistent presence in my life. I had always thought I was pretty good at hiding it, pretty good at acting like I could have cared less.
Especially with my father, I never wanted him to think that he wasn’t enough for me, that I wasn’t thankful for the life he had given me; because I was. He meant everything to me.
“Relax,” Shooter said, popping almost an entire piece of bacon into his mouth. “He wasn’t curled up in a ball crying about it or anything, he just said it casually, like he was talking about the weather or something.”
I hated the way he knew what I was thinking when I said nothing out loud. I hated the way he knew that he knew even more. Everything about Shooter was starting to annoy me more and more; his deep eyes, his knowing attitude, his damn cockiness, and his stupid, dumb, perfect abs.
“Let’s talk about you,” I snapped, trying to deflect my emotions. “What’s the deal with your mom? Where is she? Don’t you want to go back to wherever you came from and see her tomorrow? It is mother’s day after all!”
Shooter shrugged. “My mom died when I was younger, I go visit her grave in New York every year, but I came to terms with it a long time ago. Of course, it’s sad but it’s different…”
“Different?”
“Well, yeah,” he told me straight forward. “My mom died, she didn’t have a choice in the matter. I had to make myself have that closure. But your mom is just out there somewhere and you have no idea where or why or who she is. It’s hard to get closure from something you know nothing about.”
I poked at my plate roughly, jabbing the fork into it so hard that the whole pl
ate shook. “I don’t need closure because it’s not that important to me, she left, that’s on her. No one else.”
It was a lie. Of course, it was a lie. I wondered about my mom a lot. I wondered who she was or where she was, what her life was like, or if she ever thought about looking for me. But no way I was going to admit that to Shooter, I didn’t even know him, and he definitely didn’t need to know about it.
“I don’t believe you,” he announced. “I think it is a big deal and I think we should find her. I was planning on driving down to New York anyway to see my mom’s grave, your mom is in New York, it’s right on the way. We can stop along the way and check it out,” he said is casual: like it wasn’t a big deal.
I dropped my fork. “What are you talking about?” I squeezed my shoulders together, uncomfortable. “My mother doesn’t live in New York, we don’t know where she is. My father hasn’t even seen her since…”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “She is in New York, right at the edge of New York, actually. I found your birth certificate in that cabinet over there and I put some calls into…”
“YOU FOUND MY WHAT?” I yelled. Was he for real?
“I put some calls into one of my men in blue and he ran the name, matched them to some DMV records, traced down what car she drives now, and then traced it back to her current address.” Shooter pulled a piece of paper out of nowhere and slapped it down onto the table. “If we leave soon, we can drive until dark and then stop to sleep… we can make it to her house by late afternoon tomorrow.”
I pushed my plate of food away forcefully and shot up from the table. “What the hell is the matter with you? What… what right do you think you have? Snooping through our personal things and putting in calls to the police and… and…” I wanted to say more, I wanted to scream at him until I was red in the face and couldn’t breathe anymore but I was having trouble getting the words out, I felt like I was being held under water while I gasped for air, fighting for my life.
“I wasn’t snooping, Bella, I was organizing and I just happened to come across it after your dad was venting to me. What’s your problem, anyway? I thought that you’d be happy.” He got up from the table and carried his plate toward the sink. “This is hardly the thanks I was expecting.”
“Thanks? Thanks?” I hissed. “It’s none of your damn business!”
Shooter rolled his eyes. “It became my business the second your dad told me about it, once a brother, always a brother… he’s worried about you and that means I’m worried about you. So, Bella, with all due respect, get the fuck upstairs and pack a bag before I have to throw you in the back of the car myself,” he paused. “Not that the idea of you all tied up is a bad idea, just under different circumstances,” he winked.
He really wanted to make inappropriate jokes at a time like this? I hated him. “I hate you,” I snapped. “Stay out of my life!” I took off toward the steps, ready to hide in my room the way I had all night, ready to lock the door tight behind me and not come out until he finally left. I felt invaded by him, I felt like he had this hold over my emotions when I had only just meant him. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like giving that much of myself to anyone, let alone someone I had just met.
I was almost up the first stair when I felt Shooter behind me, swinging me around to face him. “Bella! Bella! Stop!” He held me by the arms tight, forcing me to look him in the eyes. He was so close that I could feel the inhale and exhale of his breathing. “You need to just… stop.”
I let my eyes linger on him for a few beats before I forced myself to look away. The truth was that I didn’t want to look at him at all but I couldn’t help myself, he had this power over me, this hold over me that I didn’t want to admit to anyone; especially to myself.
“Let me pass, Shooter,” I whispered.
He moved closer to me instead, ignoring me. “Bella, we’re going, and we’re going soon. Go upstairs and fucking pack,” he growled, anger burning into me. He wasn’t used to anyone not doing what he told him or her to do: especially a woman. I knew how the brothers operated, women were objects to them, objects that needed to be controlled.
Normally I would have been offended and started some big back and forth with him, and maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted to get a reaction out of me and for me to show some real emotion instead of running away, but I couldn’t give him that. I couldn’t give him any more power than he had already taken without my permission.
“No!” Even I could hear the way my voice was catching in my throat.
“Bella,” he sounded stern; like he was talking to a child. “Yes.” He moved even closer and it occurred to me that if I moved even a fraction of an inch my lips would be on top of his. “You can’t keep doing this.”
I couldn’t keep doing what? Thinking about what it would be like to kiss him? To feel his hands all over me? To remind myself of what it felt like minutes ago when I was upstairs touching myself and moaning while I thought about his perfect body…
I let my eyes slip closed, I felt like I could do all those things forever.
“You can’t keep running from your mother.”
My eyes snapped open and I pulled back from him. Oh, that was what he meant. Of course, he wasn’t talking about how bad I wanted to rip his clothes off and let him show me things I had only heard about. How could he be? He didn’t even know I had any of those filthy thoughts.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he told me, reaching out to push a stray piece of hair behind my ear. It was an intimate gesture; he was trying to reassure me, trying to be as soft as he could. To an onlooker, it wouldn’t have looked like much, but for Shooter it was something, he was using an unspoken language. One that I understood all too well; it was the same one my father used to use before he left Red Sin. Oh, who was I trying to kid? It was the one he still used.
“You’re scared of someone you’ve never even met,” he continued. “You’re letting someone you don’t even know control you. You carry this unbelievably huge chip on your shoulder, Bella, I noticed it the second I saw you. You’ve got to do something about it and now’s your chance!”
I sighed and tried to form words; words that would shut him up. Words that would show him how wrong he was being about everything. I wanted so badly for him to be wrong, to have no idea what he was talking about, but the truth was that he was right. I was upset about my mom; I was constantly battling with myself about where I came from or why she didn’t want me, or why it had been so easy for her to never call, not even once, after all these years.
And that just made me angrier with Shooter, because honestly, who was he? Walking in here out of nowhere and reading my mind in a matter of seconds and then trying to fix everything I had been trying to forget for as long as I could remember. I didn’t need him to do that; I didn’t need anyone.
Shooter thrust his hand inside of mine out of nowhere; sending shivers up and down my entire body. “You’re scared, I get it. Hell, I would be scared, too. But you can do this, I have the information, I know exactly where she is. The mystery is gone from it… and I’ll be there with you.” He squeezed my hand. “Right next to you the entire time.”
I felt my heart start to soften. What was wrong with me? Why did everything seem to much less scary at the thought of him? He shouldn’t have this effect on me, I had just met him, but somehow he did. He could make me go from wanting to ring his neck to wrapping my legs around his ripped body in a matter of seconds. It was crazy… and sexy.
“Okay,” I found my mouth saying without my brains permission.
Shooter grinned and dropped my hand. “Really?”
I nodded and bit my lip. “Really.” I rubbed my hand back and forth slowly; it suddenly felt cold without his touch, like his hand was made for mine or something. “I’ll go,” I said firmly, trying to convince myself more than him. “I’m going to go with you.”
Shooter’s teeth were so white that when he smirked it looked like they were glowing. �
��Now that,” he said slowly, showing his cockiness all over again, “is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
I ran my tongue over my own teeth self-consciously and tried to not let my annoyance at his sureness show. The truth was that he was right about everything he was saying and deep down I had known it for as long as I could remember, I had just never been brave enough to face it alone.
But I wasn’t alone anymore.
Shooter was…
Well, he was here with me.
And, somehow, that was enough.
“Well, go,” he said loudly. “Go. Go and get ready!”
I somehow managed to move my body around him and start up the stairs. Shooter reached out and guided me as I moved, allowing his hand to rest just above my butt as I passed by him. He stood at the bottom of the steps and didn’t move until I was safely at the top and out of his sight.
I practically ran to my room, suddenly excited.
This whole thing felt thrilling. I was taking control of my life, taking back my power. I was going to find my mother once and for all. The idea was making my heart race a mile a minute.
Or maybe that was the thought of Shooter watching my butt climb the stairs.
Either way: it was going to be an interesting few days.
Chapter Four
SHOOTER
Bella’s ass looked too good running up those steps. I mean; the jiggle in it enough was enough to make my heart race. It took every ounce of control I had to stop myself from reaching out and slapping it as she passed me. It was a move I would have no trouble pulling on one of the club whores back home, but I wasn’t back home and Bella definitely wasn’t like the club whores I was used to fucking around with. She wouldn’t tolerate a move like that.
Or would she?
I had heard how loud she could get when the sound of her moans were traveling through her bedroom door and out into the hallway. It was pretty clear from her reaction this morning that she had been thinking about me while she rubbed on her pussy. The thought was enough to make my cock start to swell in my pants. I gripped my hands tighter across the steering wheel and told myself to control that shit.