Chad's Chase (Loving All Wrong Book 2)

by S. Ann Cole

  With an immense sigh, Chad shifted from kneeling to sitting on the ground, resting his head on the couch. “Can I just sit here with you for a while? I…I missed you every day, Jhay.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  His fingers found mine, lacing them together, and the next ninety minutes cruised by as we sat in absolute silence.

  In a world like ours, a world of chaos, rage and war, turmoil and tragedy, death masks and evil veils, silence was a luxury.

  Silence was golden.

  It was Vivian who tugged us back to the present, beckoning us for dinner. By then, my limbs were in full function. If I ever saw that stupid doctor bitch again, I’d be returning the favor with a little twist to it.

  Sitting up on the couch, I stretched, mumbling, “And just like that, another day bites the dust.”

  Ta-da-dum. Day over.

  In its slow and humble descent, the sun’s weak tangerine glow cast symmetric slim rays through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the sunrays like security laser beams, slicing through and through the penthouse.

  Evenings here had a different feel than back at my apartment. Evenings here were beautiful and soothing, shifting shades, especially as it reflected in Chad’s deceivingly warm dark eyes.

  If only there wasn’t a hose of shit waiting somewhere nearby to start spraying on us, I could remain here with him. Because damn, no, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want the moment we were having to end. Ever.

  But life was a bitch.

  It ended.

  Chad stood up from the floor and stretched, too. “We missed lunch. Come on, let’s eat.”

  “And then you will tell me what the hell is going on?” I really hated being left in the dark.

  “Yes.” Reaching down for me, he pulled me up by my arms and pressed me to him. “As long as you’re here, inside this building, you don’t need to worry. This place is a fortress. The windows are bulletproofed. I imagine you already know this considering you’ve been trying to get to me for months. If you could’ve gotten in, you would’ve gotten in, wouldn’t you?”

  “I won’t feed your ego.”

  Chad flicked a finger at my lips. It stung, but I smiled as I winced, because it was such a familiar gesture. One he used to do to me when I was a feisty little thing, always mouthing off at someone. It stung like a mofo, but it was always effective in getting me to shut up.

  “I’m just assuring you of your safety here. Outside is a different story. So just breathe easy for now, okay?”

  Folding my lips to quell the sting still lingering on my lips, I nodded.

  Chad grinned. “Nice to see that still works.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Another finger flicked at my lips again, and I chucked him.

  Jerking a step back, he full out laughed now. That sound, oh how I loved it.

  Tapping my forefinger to my lips, I demanded, “Kiss it better.”

  I was expecting him to deny me, but that expectation fled when he grabbed me and dropped his mouth down to mine in a heated hunger, like he’d been yearning for this.

  Holding onto his biceps for balance, I braced myself against him and dug deeper into the kiss, giving, offering, submitting, surrendering.

  The wave between us was stronger than just two people wanting each other sexually. A current that went far beyond sexual torridity was drawing us together. Like a whole that had been struck into two halves by a lightning bolt, being forced back together by a high current sea, pushing, shoving, not letting up until those two halves drew back together like magnets, until they stuck, sealing, healing, becoming a whole again. Becoming one.

  Whether or not we shared fond memories of the past, it was wrong of me to be having these feelings for this man. Because following those fond memories were horrible, horrible memories also.

  All of this was wrong. Me enjoying the way his tongue felt in my mouth, or wanting him to throw me down on the couch and fuck me into oblivion—wrong. These feelings, these wants, these cravings were forbidden.

  Wrong.

  Here, I wasn’t avenging my family. I was loving the enemy. Blood of my family forgotten.

  How could I be so cruel to them? How could I betray them like this? Giving myself up, my whole body, my mind, my heart, my trust, to the person who turned me into an orphan, who threw me in the lonely darkness, who was the catalyst for my one dozen years of hell.

  This wasn’t right. This was selfish. This was twisted.

  Yet I couldn’t let myself stop. I couldn’t let myself not want the full gamut of the erection digging into my stomach. I couldn’t let myself not get wet from the smooth thrust of his tongue inside my mouth. I couldn’t not want him.

  I just couldn’t.

  Much to my displeasure, Chad broke off the kiss and took a step back from me, adjusting his jeans. “We need to eat.”

  “We were eating,” I pointed out, moving in to pick up where we left off.

  Chad laughed yet again, and I was loving the fact that I could make the taciturn, ever-serious, arrogant dickhead laugh. “Actual food. We need actual food.”

  I crossed my arms. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not,” he denied. “Just hungry.”

  Through narrowed slits, I studied him for a heartbeat and a half. “Okay. Well, after we eat, you tell me what’s going on outside this fortress. And then we fuck for the rest of the night. Deal?”

  No response. Only an arched eyebrow.

  Uncrossing my arms, I went up on my tippy toes and whispered in his ear, “If you deny me your cock tonight, things are going to get really, really ugly.”

  Without waiting for his response, I shouldered past him and sauntered to the dining area. Leaving him some time to get his hard-on under control.

  Vivian prepared bacon-wrapped baked chicken, with sautéed vegetables and a home-baked garden pizza on the side. The woman could cook her knuckles off, had to give her that.

  It wasn’t until my dinner plate was empty and I was biting into a slice of the garden pizza that I realized how hungry I’d been.

  From across the table, Chad was watching me, amused, as if to say, I was right, wasn’t I?

  He was right. We’d only eaten breakfast, and I spent hours updating him on the last horrific years of my life. Not to mention I’d been overdrugged. So, of course, I was starved. Just hadn’t noticed how much until the first morsel of food touched my tongue.

  Chad’s dish was empty, too. But he didn’t seem interested in the pizza, sipping from his wine glass. Watching me.

  Polishing off the last of my pizza, I wiped the corners of my mouth and broached, “I can understand The Voice’s coming after me. I failed a mission. And I’m in cahoots with the target. But as for the other person, that I don’t understand. What do they want with me?”

  “The Voice?” Chad asked, a sardonic arch to his brows.

  “Well, your father,” I corrected. “I dubbed him ‘The Voice’ because we only communicated over the phone. And that’s only when he was giving me a mission, or checking up on the status of one. For everything else, like giving me cash or upgrades, he sends his henchmen.” I picked up another slice of pizza and bit in. “As a matter of fact, I’m not sure any of his employers know what he looks like. But now that I know he’s Rafail Niiveux, I understand. You can’t very well be a good guy and a bad guy at the same time, can you?”

  Chad’s father, along with his two other uncles, Vlad and Pavel Niiveux, were joint owners of the car brand Niiveux, which was one of the largest and most expensive car brands in the world which produced vehicles that only millionaires could afford.

  From Niiveux stemmed a whole slew of other car brands, thus making the Niiveux brothers infamous billionaires. Little did I know Rafail lived a double life. Heck, they probably all did.

  “Strange nickname,” Chad commented through a chuckle. “I would’ve gone with something more villainous.”

  “Like ‘Veiled Demon’?”

 
“Something like that.” He sobered up. “My father has been spying on you long before now.”

  “What?”

  “He might not have trusted you—how long ago have you been assigned to kill me?”

  I winced. “About seven months now?”

  Chad nodded. “That explains it. Unless you’re trying to assassinate someone from the White House, no assignment should take this long.”

  Appetite gone, I set my half-eaten pizza down. “So you’re saying he thought I was giving him the run-around?”

  “If he sent men here to spy on you”—shrug—”yeah.”

  “What a cowardly stinking piece of shit!” I erupted, tripping over my tongue in a tangle of words that didn’t make sense. “H-how many men has he given this same assignment? Twelve. And how many have you stopped in their tracks? Twelve! Did he seriously expect me to run in like a brave fool and make myself a number fucking thirteen?!”

  “Calm down, Jhay,” Chad said in a steady, even voice.

  “No!” I said, sweeping a set of utensils off the table. “I want to kill him! I want to kill that cock-sucking asshole my fucking self! First he fucks up my life, then he makes me a target because I failed a mission that a dozen men died trying to fulfill? Rafail Niiveux can go fuck himself!!”

  “Jhay, calm down.”

  “Fuck off!” I shouted at him. “Fuck right off!”

  Unimpressed with my choler, Chad slammed a tight fist down on the table, swift and firm, and contents on the table danced as if a mini-quake had just licked the earth. “Calm. The fuck. Down.”

  I shut up, but glared at him across the table, pretending he didn’t intimidate me.

  Propping his elbows on the table, he locked his eyes to mine. They weren’t cold or threatening, however, but carried a gentle understanding. “Jhay, you’re freaking out because you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared,” I denied.

  “Yes, you are,” he said, sticking me where it hurts. “But I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to trust that I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” I shrieked in disbelief. “How are you going to protect me from two different sets of people when you are still a target?”

  “Jhay—”

  “What are we gonna do, stay locked up in this bulwark? Yeah, until someone decides to launch a big ass bomb through your ‘bulletproofed’ windows!”

  “Look, you seriously need to calm down.”

  “I can’t.” And that’s when the tears began to flow. Because Chad was right, I was afraid. Life suddenly meant something to me and I wanted to live. “I’m not ready to die.”

  Pushing back his chair, Chad got up and came to my end of the table, crouching down in front of me. “It’s okay to fear death. But Jhay, freaking out is not gonna help.”

  “I used to wish for death,” I told him through a messy muffle of sniffles. “I hated my life and I just wanted to die already. But now I realize why I didn’t pull the trigger whenever I put the gun under my chin. It’s because I didn’t really want to die. I just wanted a way out.”

  Taking my trembling hands in his, he whispered, “No matter how much we pretend, none of us really wants to die. Not even those who commit suicide. Some commit suicide because they’re tired of screaming out into the void and not being heard, so they do it for people to notice their pain. But I’m sure in death, they’re wishing they’d stayed and fought it out. Because they did get people to notice them, to hear them, but what’s it worth now that they’re dead? How can they be helped?” He squeezed my hands, warming them. “I’m glad you didn’t pull the trigger, Jhay. I’m glad you stayed and fought it out. Because I’m here now. I hear your screams. I notice your pain. And I’m here to help.”

  “You’re gonna die trying to protect me and yourself,” I said hoarsely. “I don’t want you to die.”

  “Funny,” Chad chortled in spite of the situation, “considering two nights ago you were aiming to blow my head off.”

  That’s because two nights ago I didn’t know I still loved you. “I’m serious, Chad. I don’t want—”

  “You’re not going to die,” Chad assured me, firmly positive. “I might…but you won’t.”

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “Remember that second person I said is after you?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, they’re not really after you.” He gave my hands another reassuring squeeze.

  “They’re watching over you.”

  THIRTEEN

  He will my shield and portion be,

  As long as life endures.

  I watched Chad like he’d just spoken monkey language.

  Who the hell did I have left on earth to ‘watch over me’? I almost laughed. “Okay, um, I’m officially confused.”

  Getting to his feet, Chad drew me up from the chair. “Let’s talk in the living area so Viv can clean up this mess.”

  Still a little nervous, worrisome, and overly bemused, I let him lead me through the open-floor plan, and we took up residence on the couch. Chad lifted my feet up onto his lap and began massaging my soles.

  Okay. This was nice. Really nice. God, please don’t let me die.

  “I don’t know who ordered protection over you,” Chad admitted.

  “Chad…” I sighed, frustrated, “I’m getting more and more confused by the second.”

  Concentration dedicated to my feet, his brows furrowed as he said, “When Nadia first brought you to my attention, I took immediate precautions.”

  “Ah, so it was Nadia who ratted me out.”

  “Yeah, before she got so disturbingly smitten by you.” He glanced over at me and shook his head. “How’d you manage to turn a completely straight girl gay?”

  With a chuffed smirk, I replied, “Same way you managed to turn a completely gay girl straight.”

  Bringing his attention back to my feet, he abandoned that little digression and hopped back on the main topic. “I went by your apartment and installed cameras so I could always be two steps ahead of y—”

  “That’s impossible,” I said, wagging my head, disbelieving. “I swept my apartment for bugs every night.”

  Lips compressed, Chad gave me a pointed look, as if saying I’d had no idea who I was dealing with. “Ah, yeah. My guys found your bug detector and tampered with it so you wouldn’t pick up on the ones we planted.”

  “You…argghh!” I tried to kick at him, but he firmly held my feet in place.

  “Did you forget you were trying to assassinate me?”

  Out of valid excuse to throw a bitch tantrum, I huffed and relaxed back into the couch. “You jerked off on all the girl-on-girl action that went on in my apartment?”

  “That would imply I’m a pervert,” he deadpanned.

  “Did you?”

  Refusing to entertain me with an answer in the positive, he ignored it altogether and continued with the original topic. “A man broke into your apartment when you left for work one night. He didn’t seem to be digging for anything like a burglar would; just snooped around and checked stuff. Flipped through notebooks and drawers. Like someone searching for clues to back up a conjecture. Two nights after that, when you left for work, a completely different person broke in. Wired up a cam in your bedroom and left. Soon as he left, I went and got rid of it. That’s when I decided playtime was over. So… I organized a plan—which I predicted you’d play right into—to get you here.”

  “In the garden…was that planned, too?”

  “Yes,” he confessed.

  “It was a distraction,” I stated instead of asking.

  “Yes.”

  Mortification licked at my veins, or maybe it was irritation, or indignation, rather. “And then you want to give me shit about our fucks not meaning anything to me.”

  Fingers still massaging my soles, he spoke in an annoyingly calm tone. “That’s not important right now.”

  Like hell it’s not. But I let it go…for now. “So what did you do
on the fifth floor?”

  “Off the guy who installed the cams in your apartment.”

  I straightened. “He was living at The Chess?”

  “Yep.” His thumbs massaged deep into my soles and I emitted a low, appreciative moan. “For a month, he told me when I questioned him. Claimed he meant you no harm. Said he was assigned to protect you. But of course, I didn’t believe him. So I offed him. When you left to tail me, my dirty cops moved his body to your apartment and set it on fire.”

  “Then if you killed him, who were you putting on a show for in Excelsior? The handcuffs and the bike bombing?”

  “The two who’d followed you there,” he filled in. “I guessed whoever sent them to spy on you was whoever sent you to kill me. So the burnt-out apartment, the bike bombing, me taking you as hostage, was to send a message that you failed. If I had you, the general assumption would be that I’m going to imprison and torture you for information, then kill you. The goons would report back to their boss, and that would hopefully throw them off you, marking you as a lost cause.”

  “You think it worked?”

  Massaging paused, Chad looked at me like I was an imbecile. “No, Jhay. Now that I know your boss is my father, I’m positive he saw right through it. He knows I’m never going to kill you.”

  My shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Well, that’s comforting.”

  Cruising his hands up my left leg, he squeezed my thigh. “You’re safe, Jhay. Someone powerful, extremely powerful, more powerful than my father, is protecting you. Rafail will have to get through those men before he can get to you. I’m the only one who’s wide open. The gun is at my head, they couldn’t give a shit. The gun is at your head, your assailant meets his death before he can even pull the trigger.”

  Oh God. I removed my feet from his lap and crawled over to him. “But I’m with you. Why won’t they protect you, too?”

  “Because I killed your mother.”