by Rucker, Shay
“No. I am not stupid.”
He stood up. “You made a stupid comment so I had to ask. Can’t have stupid people messing around with my knives.”
“So what? It’s stupid for me to want to lose a few pounds?”
“Your body’s fine. Don’t go fucking it up.”
She shifted into a wide-legged stance, her brows drawing together as her hands came to rest on her hips. She looked like she was ready to go to battle. He stilled the blade’s motion, gripping the woven leather hilt. She tilted her head, looking at him like he was something that didn’t make sense. Then she smiled, rattling his brain as effectively as a two-by-four to the temple.
“Why, Zeus…whatever your last name is. I do believe you just paid me a compliment.”
“I don’t have a last name, and I don’t do compliments.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her as she left the room. “I’m going to pretend you just did.”
They made their way up to the first level, Sabrina leading as if she’d stayed there for months instead of hours. And most of those hours she’d spent sleeping. She adapted to new places quickly. That was good because he moved around a lot. It would be hard living with someone who couldn’t do the same. Not that he was going to be with her longer than the time it took to grab Kragen and cut his throat. If he had to move, it was best if she could do so on the fly and without complaint. The without-complaint part was critical.
“We gotta make a stop before I take you home,” he said as they moved from the second level to the first.
She turned around and cocked her eyebrow at him instead of asking a question. He liked that.
“I need to take you to get some temporary blades to practice with. Don’t have time to make you one.”
“You’re really going to teach me?”
“Said I would.”
“Yeah, you also said you would help me make my bed.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t do what you needed to do to make that happen.”
“Whatever.”
“And who taught you how to make a bed, anyway? The sisters would have had you kneeling on rice for days if you had tried to pass that mess off as a made bed at the orphanage.”
She tried to release his hand as they walked up the stairs, nearing the back door of the bar. He didn’t know if he’d made her mad by criticizing her domestic inadequacies or if she didn’t want the others to see them holding hands. He didn’t think she realized how often she initiated touching him. Even in her sleep, she’d crawled on top of him as if she had a right to do so. He wouldn’t let her release his hand. She sighed loudly.
“I don’t care,” he said, letting her know her sighs didn’t have any sway over him.
When they entered the bar, the others cut short whatever disagreement they were having and looked from Sabrina to Zeus. Almaya scooted out of the booth she’d been sharing with Coen and Price, while Bride and Lynx sat at the bar with Terry and Big Country.
Almaya stood, waving at the two of them. “See, I told you. She and Zeus have become close.”
“I wouldn’t say close,” Sabrina said even as she pressed against his side to hide their joined hands. “But we get along okay.”
“Based on that, you’re willing to condemn her to living with Zeus for some unknown length of time?” Coen asked Almaya.
“It was her idea,” Almaya said.
Coen and Price looked at Sabrina, seeking confirmation. Zeus tightened his grip, just in case she got any ideas about swapping him out for Coen since he was back.
“It was my idea,” Sabrina said. “I trust Zeus to protect me.”
Price scrubbed his hands back and forth over his face, leaning back to let his head fall on the top of the booth’s poorly cushioned back. “Okay. All right. After hours of having to listen to Juarez’s bullshit—”
“Then facing the women of his family, who clearly blamed us for his fucking stab wound.” Coen glared at Zeus.
“I am too tired to argue good sense. If you all decide Zeus will stay with Sabrina, he stays.” Price stood up. “I’m going downstairs to sleep for the next ten hours. I suggest no one disturb me.”
“I still think she needs someone a little more levelheaded close by,” Coen said after Price left the bar. “Someone else she can interact with face-to-face, as a go-between.”
“Bride will do,” Zeus said, volunteering the other woman.
Bride turned and looked at Zeus with cool contemplation before turning back around to face the bar.
“She should be the easiest to pass off,” Sabrina said. “An old friend from out of town I called to support me through this difficult time or some shit. Randy sublets one of his two bedrooms to international university students on a regular basis. It’s not rented, so Bride could stay there. It’d be easier than having one of the guys stay there. I wouldn’t want to be put in the position of having to hurt one of them if they became offended when Randy made a pass. And he will. Randy likes muscle-bound pretty men. Not that I know your preferences. Randy’s a good catch if you overlook his—”
“Bride can play backup,” Coen said.
Sabrina shrugged.
Was that disappointment Zeus saw on her face? Had Coen just let her down in some way? Why did he feel like smiling and punching the man at the same time? Curious.
When the remaining details were worked through, Sabrina changed back into her bloody clothes and Zeus covered them by wrapping her in the trench coat he had hanging in his room. Within the hour, Big Country, Bride, and Lynx had packed into Big Country’s surveillance van and made their way down the hill, Bride to join Zeus and Sabrina later at Sabrina’s apartment.
Back on the main road Big Country turned left and drove about a mile to the garage where the Brood housed their cars when in residence. After securing Sabrina in the passenger seat, Zeus threw his duffel bag into the trunk of his steel-gray Challenger, hopped into the driver’s seat, and steered his ride in the direction of the East Bay.
All was working out very fucking well, Zeus thought. Soon he’d be deeper into Sabrina’s world, her life; then he’d be making his way into her bed and into her body. This was working out very fucking well, indeed.
Chapter Five
Sabrina opened her eyes to Zeus’s profile and the landscape outside his window whizzing past. She had fallen asleep again when sleep was normally a commodity too hard for her to come by. It must have been a residual effect of the drug and the trauma her body had been dealt. What other reason could there have been for her having fallen asleep in Zeus’s presence for a second time?
Observing him, under the guise of sleep, she wondered what it would be like if he wasn’t a brutal killer who danced on the edge of madness. What if he was just a man, her man, driving her home after a weekend adventure? What if she wasn’t who she was but one of those women who were able to find a relationship that didn’t make her feel trapped? One that didn’t hurt or cause her to feel ashamed?
Nope, the sad thing was, even with the way violence and indifference made Zeus’s face mostly hard and unyielding, tempered his eyes into cold steel, shaped his interactions with others into inappropriate if not deranged experiences, she could see herself with someone like him. She’d always found herself with some similar variation. Since the age where she was finally old enough to choose who she wanted to be with, she’d never chosen well, never chosen anyone a woman right in the head would choose. Hell, a normal Zeus would be totally out of her league.
Sabrina slid her gaze over his body again, liking the way his jeans hugged those tree-trunk thighs and tight ass. Take away the crazy, three-quarters of the possessiveness, enhance his communication skills, and decrease his love for sticking people with sharp objects, and she wouldn’t hesitate to have sex with him. She was barely hesitating as it was.
Once he was safely out of her life, she would pull up all his physical attributes, even keeping his golden skin when she preferred darker tones, giv
e him an English accent like Idris Elba—whom both she and Randy were obsessed with—and she would have the perfect fantasy to get through the cold and lonely nights. She hated to admit it, but even with the sections of scarred skin covering his body, Zeus was the closest thing to a perfect physical specimen of man she’d ever had the pleasure of actually touching. Ernesto had been only slightly taller than she was, but he hadn’t possessed any of Zeus’s godlike presence. He’d been sleek and sexy, made up of hard wiry muscle and cold cruelty, but he could speak the sweetest, most believable words a young woman could ever hope to hear. When she had been younger and in need of safety and affection, Ernesto had provided it. For a while he had been a fantasy come true, until he became her worst nightmare.
The years had made her smarter. She might desire Zeus, she might even have sex with him, but when they had taken care of Kragen, he would be gone and she would have additional defensive skills to deal with Ernesto if he ever found her.
“You’re looking at me again.”
She jumped, blinked, forced her gaze from his lower body and back to his striking gray eyes.
“You were imagining having sex with me, weren’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes, you were. You don’t have to be ashamed. I think about fucking you every time I look at you. Every time I smell you.”
A sign flashed past, the reflective lettering snagging her attention. Sabrina sat up as they exited the freeway at San Pablo Dam Road.
“This is not the way to Oakland. Where are you taking me?” she asked, trying to stay calm. She had a bad feeling this wouldn’t end well for her. She looked at the vehicles around them, and Big Country’s van was nowhere to be seen.
“Detour. You need weapons to practice with. Maybe get you a boot knife and a dagger like mine. Something small and hard to recognize, like a punch blade maybe, and something to wear at your back and thigh.” His response was more like an external expression of his internal dialogue than a conversation with her.
“You’re kind of serious about this training thing,” she said, turning so her back, instead of her shoulder and temple, was flush up against the seat. They were heading up San Pablo Dam Road toward the reservoir, away from the downtown area.
“Before I leave, you’ll know how to cut to kill, how to incapacitate so you can run if you need to. No shame in running if you can’t win.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a chill running through her. It was getting hard to imagine him not around. When he was near, he kept the cold away.
“I can’t see you running from a fight,” she said.
“And you won’t. I’m not some woman too ignorant to know the difference between the tip and the hilt of a blade.”
She knew the goddamn difference but hesitated to tell him so for fear of how he would react. She no longer had the rest of the Brood to step in if Zeus lost it, so she had to suppress the attitude just in case the big bastard didn’t respond to her words well.
“So, that your first lesson of blade defense?” she asked. Despite her best efforts, she could still hear a hint of sarcasm.
“No, my first lesson is hold on to your fucking blade. Second, don’t get stabbed with it. That could get you dead. And if you live…that will just leave you shamed and embarrassed. Hold on to your blade.”
She was tempted to remind him he hadn’t held on to his blade when he threw it into Juarez’s shoulder, but she knew he would spout some bullshit about being bigger and more skilled than her or doing it because he knew his opponent wouldn’t be able to come after him. Anyway, she knew how to defend herself, and his arrogance was rubbing her wrong. Look at it this way: he’s going to teach you how to protect yourself better. In this world a woman had to know how to protect herself if she didn’t want to wind up being someone’s victim…or dead.
They made their way to a house on the outskirts of El Sobrante that looked like something that could be found in a destitute town in the backwoods—a large farmhouse with a wraparound porch. The closer they got the more clearly she could see how dilapidated the wood was. Some planks curved up slightly instead of lying flat.
The yard was big but cluttered with broken toys—a rusty rocking horse with only flecks of red paint surviving the wear and tear of youth and exposure to the elements, an old swing set. A tire hung from a big tree whose leaves had already abandoned it for the weed-and-dirt-patched earth broken in many places by its thick, curved roots. There were smatterings of brown-yellow grass closer to the house, which suggested there was a time in the distant past when the yard had been lush and well cared for. Not like today. Luckily there was only one broken-down car parked in the yard. Not enough to mistake the place for an impound lot.
The house had probably been a bright yellow once, but currently it was a pale lifeless color dulled by time, dirt, and lack of care. She’d bet if someone gave it one good pressure wash, the water would strip not only dirt and layers of paint but would expose what was more than likely termite-infested wood beneath. All that said, she had lived in worse places and really didn’t have room to judge. It wasn’t all bad, anyway. The windows were clean, and the wispy curtains inside were a pristine cream lace. Actually, the incongruence made the place look even more derelict.
“Somebody lives here?” she asked as they got out of the car and walked closer to the porch.
Zeus’s footing was sure; he didn’t stumble over weeds, debris, or indentations in the earth like she did. “Dominic and his ex-wife K.C.”
“So, what? Neither of them wanted to leave the house due to its sentimental value?”
Zeus looked at the house, then back at her, his expression blank.
“Okay, I’m being bitchy, but really, what’s the story?”
He didn’t answer her, simply grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the side of the house, supporting her as they traversed more uneven ground. As they rounded the back of the house, she saw a second building. Zeus released her upper arm and walked ahead, banging on a large metal door three times when he reached the building.
The double metal doors were pulled open, and the man who stood in the opening was…huge. What. The. Hell.
“Zeus,” the man she assumed was Dominic said with a welcoming smile. “Unexpected surprise, but it’s good to see you, man.”
A small woman leaned around him. She barely reached his chest, but she wasn’t delicate in the least. She had thick wavy black hair pulled back in a green scrunchie, a lean, muscular frame with all its womanly curves, and large intelligent eyes. Sabrina would guess the woman was Pacific Islander, maybe Samoan or Fijian.
“Hey, man, K.C.,” Zeus said, greeting them both. “Dominic, I need some blades for my woman.”
Both Dominic and K.C. balked at the comment. Sabrina had to admit that it even took her off guard.
Zeus shook his head. “She’s temporary. But I’m gonna let her keep the blades.”
His callous words didn’t seem to decrease the interest in the couple’s eyes as they looked at her.
“Uh…come in,” Dominic said, taking a step back. “Come in.”
As she entered the building, Sabrina was struck by intense heat, followed by the realization that this was a blacksmith’s workshop. Unlike everything she had perceived about the place since pulling up the drive, the inside of the building was all well-kept order. On one wall an assortment of every bladed weapon you could imagine was displayed—axes, scythes, blades, swords, throwing stars… This had to be Zeus’s version of heaven.
Dominic held out his hand to her in greeting, and she took it until he quickly let it fall back to his side. She turned in time to see Zeus shaking his head. Apparently his no-touching order extended beyond the people within Mama’s House. She had no doubt that every person in the Brood was a killer skilled in offensive and defensive combat. With his size and apparent knowledge of blades she just knew Dominic could protect himself. Why they all just let Zeus have his way was a mystery to her.
Dominic was about seven
feet, built like he was a mix of long-haired Viking bred with a polar bear. Where Zeus might look like a Greek god, Dominic looked like he might be a descendant of Thor. Arms and forearms were thick enough to pop your head from your neck if he squeezed you in a choke hold. With his sheer size and obvious knowledge of blades, one would think he would be less indulgent of Zeus’s demands.
She wasn’t going to stand by and allow Zeus to dictate other people’s behavior. She took a step forward, reached for the Dominic’s hand, and shook it. “Hello, Dominic. I’m Sabrina. Nice to meet you.”
His gaze locked on to their joined hands and darted toward Zeus before he turned a bemused eye back to her. “I haven’t crossed you, right? You’re not trying to get me killed, huh?”
Sabrina glared at Zeus. “No, Mr. Dominic, I’m not trying to get you killed. I just want to show Zeus that he can’t go around attempting to control other people, that it’s not okay to be as rude as he wants.” She turned back to Dominic. “There’s no good that can come from letting him believe he doesn’t have to abide within the rules of acceptable behavior. He already walks around acting like a god. People who allow him to have his way only encourage this behavior.”
Dominic relaxed as humor replaced worry. He shook her hand before folding his arms across his massive chest. “You really went and got yourself a woman, eh, Zeus?”
“I’m not his woman.”
“I’ll be keeping her awhile either way,” Zeus countered.
Sabrina shifted her gaze toward Dominic’s ex-wife. “I’m not his woman,” she repeated, hoping K.C. would show more understanding.
The other woman looked at her with an amusement as she stepped closer to Dominic and curved her arm around his waist. “Never in all the years that we’ve known Zeus has he ever brought a woman to meet us,” K.C. said, her voice the stuff of leather and smoke.
“It’s not as significant as you think. Zeus and I just met yesterday. He helped me out of a dangerous situation and feels obligated to teach me how to protect myself. He’s just getting me some knives,” she ended lamely.