by Morgan James
Jules had been tucked away in her room most of the evening, and I hadn’t wanted to bother her by digging around in the safe. Instead, I’d dropped my stuff by the couch where it was within reach. I snapped my belt into place and did one more look-over. I never knew what the hell I’d run into, so I always erred on the side of caution.
Shit. I let my eyes close and my head drop back as I realized I’d put my extra magazines in the gun safe a couple nights ago. And the safe was in the bedroom. I brushed a hand down my face and debated my options. I didn’t want to barge into the room while Jules was sleeping, but I hated to go out unprepared. Fuck.
Heaving a sigh, I made my way down the hall as quietly as possible. My heart sank as I neared the bedroom. She was sleeping with the light on again. I thought it was a fluke when I saw her light on last night. I hadn’t even meant to notice, but I’d seen the rectangular outline around her door when I got up in middle of night last night to use the bathroom.
Leaning my ear against the door, I listened for any sound within. I scratched softly, but it remained quiet. Taking a deep breath, I tested the handle. My eyebrows shot up in surprise when I realized it was unlocked. After everything, I hadn’t expected that. In fact, I wouldn’t have been shocked to find she’d barricaded the door with the dresser while she slept, as skittish as she’d been today.
I pushed the door open and peeked inside, my eyes sweeping the corners of the room. What greeted me damn near broke my heart. Instead of lying in bed, Jules was curled up in the chair in the far corner of the room. She was tucked into a tiny ball, like if she made herself as small as possible, she would go unnoticed. She hadn’t even bothered to pull the comforter off the bed or use a covering of any sort—the only thing she had was a pillow. Her entire body was wrapped around it, holding onto it like a lifeline, her head buried in the downy fabric.
A fierce protectiveness swept over me. I hated to see her like this, vulnerable and afraid. Part of me wanted to pull her into my arms and soothe her, promise that everything would be okay. I couldn’t do a damn thing, though, because she wouldn’t let me in. The helplessness rising within me was a foreign emotion. I’d been trained for most every situation, and yet this young woman eluded me. I had no way to help her because I had no idea what I was up against.
I hated it even more because I knew she’d never let me—or anyone else—see her like this. She would bottle everything up, lock it inside where no one would see it. She would fight her demons alone because she trusted no one to help. She was too strong, too goddamn proud, and it pissed me off.
Biting back a growl of frustration, I quietly strode to the closet where I stored the safe. The keypad beeped with each digit I tapped in, and I cringed, praying even that soft sound wouldn’t wake her. The door of the safe unlocked with a metallic click, and I quickly grabbed two extra magazines from the top shelf. I closed up the door, making sure it relocked, and tossed one more look Jules’s way.
She couldn’t possibly be comfortable, her body crunched into that tiny space. Shadows played over the wall, making the circles beneath her eyes even more pronounced. She looked absolutely exhausted, and I briefly debated carrying her to bed. Just as quickly, I dismissed it. She obviously wasn’t sleeping well, and I didn’t want to risk waking her up.
With one last look at Jules, I quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me.
Chapter 19
Giuliana
The sound of organ pipes filled my ears, and stained glass windows glowed radiantly as the sun spilled through the colorful panes. The sound of Monsignor Francis’s voice drew my eyes to the stooped little priest a few feet away on the altar. My eyes dropped the length of my body, taking in the ornate lace gown. A chill swept down my spine as I recognized the dress Uncle Massimo had selected for me to wear when I wed Nikolai. I felt a presence next to me, and I glanced across my right shoulder to the man at my side. His head was turned away from me, so I couldn’t get a good look at his face. My gaze darted back to the priest as he droned on, and a collective cry of joy went up as he lifted his hands toward us.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. The man—Nikolai, I assumed—took my hand in his and tugged me to my feet. His grip tightened as I tried to pull away, his fingers digging into the back of my hand and putting pressure on the delicate bones. My cries were drowned out by the jubilant voices of friends and family joined together at the church. I tried to dig in my heels, but people poured out of the pews and pressed in around us, sweeping me along, forcing me forward as Nikolai pulled me up the aisle. I swiveled my head left and right, searching for a sympathetic face. Surely someone would help me.
As we reached the tabernacle, the cathedral faded away and became the gathering room in my family’s restaurant. It’d been elegantly decorated, white cloth-covered tables placed throughout the room. The pungent aroma from thousands of white roses rose in the air, and the sickeningly sweet scent filled my throat, causing me to gag. I still couldn’t make out the man’s face, but everyone kept approaching us, shaking his hand and congratulating us. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I was pulled around the room, through a sea of smiling happy faces.
All of a sudden, Daddy was there. He and Massimo stood in the corner arguing, and it sparked a memory I had long forgotten. Daddy and Uncle Massimo had argued bitterly about a week before Daddy died. Where was Eric? I glanced frantically around the room. Then, as if he’d heard me calling for him, Eric appeared. I tried to break free and run to him, but the man grasping my hand held me back. Eric’s face twisted in anger as the man refused to let me go. He reached for me, ready to pull me away, and I stretched out a hand for him. Our fingers brushed, but I was yanked backward, and he slipped from my grasp.
Over Eric’s shoulder, I saw Uncle Massimo’s face twisted into an evil glare. I tried to call out, tried to warn him before it was too late, but nothing came out. The knife glinted as it cut through the air, and I let out a scream. Massimo drew the blade across Eric’s neck, and his eyes bulged as a bright red line appeared. I ripped myself away from the man beside me and threw myself at Eric as he collapsed to his knees. He pitched forward, clutching at his neck with one hand and reaching for me with the other. Blood saturated my pristine white dress as I knelt next to him.
“No! Please!” I grasped his hands, begging him to stay with me.
Eric’s lips parted, and blood trickled out. Hazel eyes met mine, and I leaned forward to capture the words leaving his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
I let out a scream as arms grabbed me roughly from behind and drew me away. I fought against their hold, my eyes on Eric as a crowd formed around him, swallowing him up.
A familiar voice spoke next to my ear. “You’re mine now.”
I sucked in a breath as I jolted upright, sweat clinging to my skin, my body simultaneously running hot and cold. Harsh breaths heaved in and out of my lungs as I glanced frantically around the room. My heart pounded in my chest, and my mind raced with worry and fear.
Oh, God. Eric.
It took a long moment for the dream to dissipate, and I finally recognized my surroundings. I was in Eric’s bedroom. I was safe. Another shiver wracked my body as I mentally replayed the dream, and a tremor of worry sliced through me. My stomach twisted as I remembered Eric bleeding out in my arms and shook my head to dispel the image. It had felt so real—I needed to see for myself that he was okay. Dropping the pillow to the floor, I bolted from the chair and raced from the bedroom.
Escaping into the dark hallway, I made my way toward the living room, padding quickly but quietly along the wood floor. It was cold beneath my bare feet, the sensation helping to ground me and bring me back to reality. The living room was dark, and I could feel the emptiness before I even stepped foot inside. He wasn’t there.
Turning on a heel, I went to the spare room. Light spilled over the empty room as I flipped the switch, and my heart kicked into overdrive. Fear rose in my throat. Oh, God. Where was he? Was he okay?
> I sprinted into the mud room and threw open the door to the garage. Even before I turned on the light, I knew I’d find it empty. Closing the garage door, I hastily made my way back to the kitchen. I flipped on the overhead light and scoured the counter for a note, anything that would indicate why he’d left in the middle of the night.
As my mind cleared, the pieces began to come together. His boots weren’t in the tray by the door as they normally were. A quick glance around told me that his duty belt and heavy overcoat were gone as well.
My heart slowed to a more normal pace as it hit me. He’d been called out for something, probably an emergency at this hour. Dragging in a deep breath, I returned to my room. I couldn’t do anything but wait and pray he was okay. I was overreacting. This was his job; he was called out at all hours of the day to help people, and he could certainly handle himself. I was sure Eric was safe wherever he was.
The heat of embarrassment washed over me as I headed back to the bedroom. I was glad Eric hadn’t been here to see me overreact. I stripped off the sweats I’d been wearing, suddenly too hot. This time, I crawled under the covers and curled up in the middle of the bed. Here, surrounded by his scent, I felt safe. It made me feel connected to him in a way, and it helped to calm my rioting emotions.
I closed my eyes and imagined the snow falling softly outside. Almost immediately, I blinked them wide open again. What if it snowed so hard he got into an accident? Oh, God. I ducked beneath the covers, pulling them over my head as a thousand scenarios—none of them good—assaulted my brain in rapid succession.
Growing up, my father had done his best to shield me from the ugly side of his business, but that didn’t keep me from knowing it existed. As I grew older, I heard whispers and rumors about my family. I knew I was different—that they were different. I’d never really experienced death firsthand until my father was killed. I’d once thought him invincible, and it was the same thing I thought of Eric. He was so strong, so smart. He seemed to me like he could walk through fire unscathed, but death knew no bounds. It stole without remorse. I couldn’t bear to lose Eric too. Somehow, he’d become incredibly important to me over a short period of time. I tried to tell myself it was just because he was a good man... but I knew better.
What I felt for him was more than friendly.
I couldn’t get that scar out of my mind. It slashed across his throat, and there was no doubt it could have been lethal. I couldn’t fathom the thought of something happening to him. Lying here was slowly driving me crazy. The last thought propelled me from bed. With no clear intention of where I was going or what I was doing, other than just not imagining the worst, I left my room.
I slipped around the corner into the dark kitchen and winced against the bright light of the fridge as I quickly retrieved a bottle of water. Cool air rushed over me, sending goose bumps over the flesh of my arms and legs. My hand shook as I twisted the cap off and took a sip, but I knew it wasn’t the cool blast of air that had me shivering. The bottle trembled in my hands, and I recapped it before I spilled any. Taking a deep breath, I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the freezer door.
I turned around just as a lamp flickered to life in the living room. “Jules?”
My heart jumped into my throat at the sight of him, safe and unscathed. “Eric!”
Dropping the water bottle, I launched myself into his arms.
Chapter 20
Eric
I sighed as I sank onto the couch, glad to be free of the weight of my duty belt and vest. The plates inside my vest weighed damn near forty pounds alone, but I never went without them. I’d learned the hard way that they could mean the difference between life and death. Yeah, Pine Ridge was a sleepy little town for the most part, but you never knew when shit would go down in a big way.
I tipped my head toward the ceiling and had just closed my eyes when a soft sound caught my attention. From my position on the couch, I watched Jules skulk into the kitchen like a silent little kitten. Then... Oh, God. I saw her—all of her. The light from the fridge glowed around her gorgeous, lithe body like a halo, over those sleek legs and pert, round bottom encased in a tiny pair of lacy black boy shorts. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Her cheeks swelled under the fabric, and I wanted to run my fingers over the creases, use my teeth to pull the panties from her body and put my mouth on her.
Oh, fuck. This was bad. So, so bad. It’d been stressful enough over the past week, knowing she was under the same roof. But now... seeing her half-naked in my kitchen, clad only in a tiny, tight camisole and black underwear, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. My groin swelled in appreciation, pressing against the seam of my uniform pants as if trying to push through the fabric, begging to be inside her.
Shoving down the urge to pull her over my lap and sink deep into her warm, sexy body, I adjusted myself with one hand and stood. I took one more long moment to study her before flipping on the lamp to my right. “Jules?”
Her eyes met mine from across the room, flaring wide. “Eric!”
Before I could process what was happening, she was in my arms, her tiny body pressed to mine. I wrapped one arm around her waist and caught her against me. “Wh—”
I didn’t even get a full word out before she was rambling, her hands moving over every inch of me she could reach, her voice frantic. “Oh, God, Eric! You’re here, you’re home! Thank God you’re okay!” The warmth of her fingers burned my flesh through my shirt as she ran them across my chest and biceps, over my shoulders to cup my face. Those wide green eyes, full of relief, drew me in. “I woke up and you were gone, and I was so worried about you.”
She’d been worried about me? Why? I tightened my hold on her. “Jules, what’s wrong?”
Her arms tangled around my waist, and she buried her head against my chest, her perky little breasts pressing against my stomach. I felt my arousal spring to life once more, the feel of her warm body against mine like heaven. She heaved a deep breath before speaking, those tight little nipples scraping my flesh through my shirt.
Oh, God, I’m so going to hell for this.
She pressed her cheek to my chest, right over my racing heart. “I had this horrible dream, and I just... I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Tentatively, I ran one hand down her spine. “Everything’s fine, Jules. I’m good.”
She shivered—because of the cold or because of my touch, I couldn’t tell—but the motion somehow brought her even closer to me. One bare thigh slid between my legs, and she tipped her head up, those gorgeous green eyes locking with mine. For a long moment, we stood frozen, staring at each other. Slowly, her hands moved. Palms splayed open, she caressed the expanse of my back before slipping them around my waist and up my chest. Every muscle in my body tensed as they coasted upward to rest on my shoulders.
“Jules...” Her name fell from my lips—a warning or a plea, I wasn’t sure.
“Eric.” One hand moved to cup my face, and my breath suspended in my chest as my good intentions dissipated into thin air.
Only inches away, I could’ve dipped my head and captured her mouth. She was asking for it—I’d seen that look a thousand times before. But never had any of the other women made me feel this way. She felt so fucking good and yet... she was too young, too pure. She deserved more than someone like me. I was broken in so many ways, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be whole again. Besides, we both knew how this would end. I refused to start something when she was already planning to run. The thought pissed me off all over again, and I lashed out as the injustice of it all bubbled to the surface.
“You think this is what you want?” Quickly spinning her, I pressed her up against the wall and caged her in my arms. Her chest rose on a sharp inhale, the movement causing her breasts to brush against me. Just the slightest touch made my resolve waver, and I leaned into her the tiniest fraction, not ready to break the connection between us, no matter how tenuous. I kept my palms planted firmly on the wall. I couldn’t touch her—I wouldn’t. H
er skin would be my kryptonite, soft and silky beneath my fingertips. I was terrified I’d lose control and take her right here against the wall.
She smelled so fucking good, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. Dropping my head next to hers, I drew in a lungful of her sweet scent—flowery soft and uniquely Jules. She tipped her head back as I traced the curve of her cheek with my nose. My lips barely brushed her soft skin, and the sensation sent fire licking down my stomach, my dick tightening at the feel of her. Of their own volition, my hips pressed forward, seeking the softness of her body.
This was all I could ever have of her, this moment right here. Closing my eyes, I inhaled once more, committing everything to memory—each contour of her pretty face, the sensual curve where her waist flared out to her rounded hips. I lifted my head and steeled my spine as I met those bright green eyes, the ones that haunted my dreams each night and would continue to haunt them long after she was gone.
“I’m not a good man, Jules. I don’t make love, and I’m not gentle. I’m not what you need.” She started to shake her head, and those beautiful lips parted, but I spoke over her. “And you’re not what I need.”
Confusion marred her brow, and guilt shot through me as a look of intense insecurity crossed her beautiful features. I hated the way I felt, knowing I was about to hurt her. With a heavy heart, I delivered the final blow. “Go back to bed, little girl.”
Her head jerked as if I’d slapped her, and she flinched. I dropped my arms to my sides, and she pulled away from me. Head held high, shoulders straight, she walked stiffly back to her room and closed the door. The soft click was worse than if she’d slammed it, and I cringed.