I Am Lioness (The Bloodshed Series Book 1)

by Dee Garcia

  Out of everything Jason said, one word stood out most. Just one.

  Risk.

  The room spun a little and then it felt like everything around me was slowly crumbling. Panic bloomed deep in my belly and began spreading through me one limb at a time as realization set in. I backed into the wall and swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. When I glanced at Jason, I found him already watching me.

  “I’m just trying to help you.” His voice was soft. He rose to full height and started toward me, but I lifted a hand and turned my head away, stopping him abruptly mid-step.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry you think I ruined your night but I care about you too much to see some spur of the moment prick hurt you.”

  “Just get out, Jason.” I said, trying to sound angered rather than afraid.

  Of course he didn’t leave though. He just stood there as the silence stretched between us. A thousand different thoughts were barreling through my mind when suddenly a blazer-clad arm came up beside my head and light brown eyes bore into mine, taking me by surprise. I had joked about Jason working for the FBI, but at times his movements were so stealth-like, the idea didn’t really seem so farfetched.

  “You can’t be mad at me.” He murmured quietly.

  I clenched my eyes tightly, blocking him and the tears that threatened from sight. “Just go, Jay, please. There's nothing left to discuss.”

  “Fine,” he said after a beat, pushing himself off the wall behind me. “But just remember I was only keeping your best interests in mind.”

  Then the door clicked shut.The sound triggered bits and pieces of the night to flash through my mind, luring a strangled sob from my throat. I sank to the plush carpet with tears streaming steadily down my cheeks and dropped my face into my hands as fear consumed me, churning my stomach painfully.

  What have I done?

  Pounding. My head was pounding the following morning. It felt like someone had a jackhammer pointed straight to my temple and was letting it rip full-force. No matter what I tried, I couldn't seem to get comfortable, and after an indeterminable amount of time tossing and turning, I finally found comfort laying on my stomach and let myself begin to drift off again.

  But then my cell phone rang from somewhere in the suite.

  My eyes snapped open.

  “Damn it.” I muttered, throwing off the comforter in a rush and scrambling onto my feet. My head protested against the sudden movement and I groaned, rubbing small circles along my forehead as I followed the sound of my ringer.

  Snatching my clutch off the couch—which I couldn’t remember for the life of me how the hell it got there—I ripped it open and pulled out my now nearly dead phone, not bothering to check the display before accepting the call.

  “Hello?” I croaked.

  “Morning, kiddo.”

  Bernie. I should have known. No one else called me this early in the morning. I dropped down onto the couch in a heap and turned away from the bright stream of sunlight pouring in through the window. “Morning, Pops.”

  “Get dressed. We’re having breakfast in thirty.” His tone was unusually clipped.

  The mere thought of food made my stomach roil.

  “I'm going to pass on breakfast, old man. I've got a killer migraine and I'm basically running on fumes. Got in late last night.”

  There was shuffling in the background followed by a door closing. “Take some Excedrin and get in the shower, problem solved. I'll meet you in the lobby.” He grumbled testily.

  What the hell crawled up his ass?

  I groaned. “Bern, seriously, I’m not hungry. Like at all. All I wanna do is crawl back into bed and sleep this thing off. I feel like shit.”

  “Well, shit or not, it’s our last day in Vegas and you’re not going to sleep the entire day away. We need to go over our schedule for Phoenix.”

  “C’mon, Pops!” I whined, squeezing my temples when my head protested against that as well. “We can review all that on the plane or once we check-in to the hotel.”

  “Absolutely not. You know I despise procrastination. I’m serious, Hazel. Either you meet me downstairs in thirty minutes or I'll go up there and drag you down myself.”

  “Fine.” I conceded, harrumphing and all.

  The line went silent and I practically stomped back to the bedroom to plug my phone into the charger before barging into the bathroom for my obligated shower.

  I emerged twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed and ready to handle the grumpiness that awaited me downstairs. Now that my migraine had dissipated to a tolerable thumping, I was suddenly ravenous. A plate full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes sounded like heaven. I dressed in double-time, sent Bernie a quick text to let him know I was on my way, and slipped on my vans as I headed out the door.

  Both the hallways and elevator were typically quiet for a Sunday morning, but the casino was busier than I’d expected. Although it wasn’t bursting at the seams with people in every nook and cranny as it had been last night, there were still several slot machines already occupied and a few patrons spread out amongst the different tables.

  Waltzing in through the mouth of the lobby, I found the boys congregated near reception. Bernie gave me a tense side-hug, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, and Jason barely uttered a hello.

  The two took off without another word, leaving me and Manny behind to follow in their dust.

  “Well, okay then.” I muttered, glancing up at the gigantic man beside me.

  Manny shrugged. “It’s early and they’re hungry. You know how they get. Just ignore ‘em, baby girl.” He said, excusing their child-like behavior.

  Throwing an arm around my shoulders, we trailed behind the grumps in easy conversation through the hotel until the four of us were seated at a table.

  There was a palpable stiff vibe circulating in the air around us, mostly between Jason, Bernie, and myself, but having Manny there made it bearable. He gave me a knowing nod as the hostess passed around the menu’s and I flashed him a small smile, thankful to have one person who always remained neutral, no matter what the circumstances were.

  The waitress appeared several minutes later, placing napkins and coasters around the table as she introduced herself. Hayley was her name and her initially sluggish mood shifted dramatically the second she laid eyes on Jason.

  It was like a burst of caffeine hit her and she perked right up, standing a little taller with a seductive tilt to her hips. She raked a well-manicured hand through her dark tresses and bit down on her bottom lip, drinking him in for a long moment before reluctantly returning her attention back to the task at hand, namely her job.

  Despite being easily distracted by Jason while taking our order, it turns out that Hayley was actually one hell of a server. She was polite, friendly, quick on her feet, and also very observant. While it didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice Bernie’s crabby mood, Hayley seemed to pick up on the dead air radiating from his end of the table almost immediately, and she tried her best to butter him up.

  Bernie remained stoic for the most part, but unlike Jason, he couldn't resist her charm for long, especially when she returned with serving tray in hand and laid down a fluffy chocolate croissant beside his plate. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning and suddenly, all was right in world. At least for now.

  “Is there anything else I can get you all?” She asked sweetly as she distributed the rest of our meals.

  Jason slid his mug to the edge of the table and peered up at her pretty face. “More coffee, please, sweetheart.”

  Whether it was the term of endearment or just Jason himself, Hayley flushed a bright crimson. “Yes, sir.” She said, fumbling to fold the serving stand, her hands visibly shaking. “Let me just get this out of the way and I’ll be right back with that.”

  He waved her off. “Not a problem. Take your time.”

  She nodded graciously, a hopeful smile hiking up the corners of her mouth, and scampered off to the back, lugging both the tray a
nd stand beneath her arms.

  “Poor girl.” That was Manny, who was already nearly done with half his plate.

  Beast.

  Jason glanced at him with a confused expression. “What?”

  “Are you blind or just ignorant?” Bernie asked as he drenched his waffles in maple syrup.

  Manny and I choked back a laugh in tandem, the sound drawing out an unimpressed scowl on Jason’s face.

  “It’s too early for this.” He muttered.

  “Apparently not for her.” I teased behind a snicker.

  Jason's glare was evident long before I even saw it. I shrugged it off coolly and shot him an equally lethal glare in return.

  Hayley reappeared at our table with a pot of piping hot coffee. It smelled delicious which only lead me to assume it was probably freshly brewed. The thought had me chuckling silently in my corner. She sidled close to Jason and refilled his mug, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

  I could see how desperately she just wanted him to notice her but he didn’t bat an eyelash in her direction, other than a curt nod by way of thanks. Hayley’s face fell a bit and I found myself feeling both amused and sympathetic for the poor girl, draping a hand over my mouth to hide the smile stretching my lips.

  The entire scenario was comical to say the least, mostly because watching different women fawn over Jason was always was. I couldn't say I blamed them, though. He was very good-looking. Average in height, probably about six-feet even, but very good-looking.

  A man well-kept described him best; hair perfectly styled, defined edges of his face clean-shaven, and hard lines of lean muscle apparent beneath his finely-tailored suits. Tie that in with the Ray Bans perched atop his nose ninety percent of the time and his somewhat gruff personality, and you had one intimidating yet intriguing man.

  It was hard not to notice Jason and that alone brought him a lot of attention, but he never acted on it and I always wondered why.

  When Hayley finally discerned Jason wasn’t going to snatch the bait, she excused herself to go check on another table in her section. Once she was out of earshot, Manny wiped his mouth and stared at Jason in disbelief.

  “Throw the girl a damn bone, Jay. You can’t tell me you don’t think she looks good.”

  “Not my type.” Jason said dismissively, digging into his pancakes.

  Manny arched a brow. “Really? Then what is your type ‘cause I haven’t seen you with one chick in the two years we’ve worked together.”

  Three sets of eyes latched onto Jason, waiting to see how exactly he was going to dig himself out of this one. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked between us all, huffing when he realized his only way out was to answer.

  “Blondes, Emmanuel. Blondes are my type.”

  Manny threw his head back, barking out a full-bellied laugh at the same moment my eyes bugged out of my head and Bernie muttered a Jesus Christ.

  He can't possibly be referring to me...

  Could he? No, right? That would be ridiculous.

  I gaped long and hard in his direction through Manny’s howling but Jason wouldn't look at me, his line of sight trained firmly on his plate. It wasn't until he lifted the coffee mug to his lips that he regarded me for a fleeting moment before returning to his breakfast, as if nothing had happened.

  From the corner of my eye I could see Bernie shaking his head disapprovingly. Being the wise man he was though, he chose not to comment more than he already had. I decided to follow his lead and keep my mouth shut as well because asking what exactly his admission meant would only make the situation more awkward than it already was. And believe me, it was about as awkward as I could take.

  Silence engulfed the table once more and everyone seemed to be cleaning their plates minus myself. My food was suddenly not so appealing anymore. I don't know if I was shocked or just downright disgusted but I couldn't bring myself to touch any of it. Not even the bacon, which spoke volumes.

  I was poking my food around, debating whether or not I should pull Jason aside later and ask him the million dollar question, when suddenly a now familiar voice boomed beside the table.

  “Good morning.”

  The deep, velvety sound hit me like a freight train, jolting me in place. White-hot goosebumps flourished over my skin, singeing each layer down to the blood rushing through my veins. I peeked up into crystal blue eyes and gasped as all the air rushed out of my lungs.

  Oh. Fuck.

  If it seems to good to be true, it probably is. That’s how the saying goes, right?

  As I sat on the edge of the bed, back in the solitary confines of my room, I couldn’t think of a time when a phrase had ever been more true.

  Scoffing, I dropped my head into my heads, mentally chastising myself for going balls to wall over Hazel Perry in the first place. What the hell was I thinking?

  If I’d been more level-headed and played it cool—like I did with any other woman—there was a great possibility I wouldn’t been sitting here now, feeling like a dejected asshole. Even Luis, who never interfered with my “love life”, had essentially told me to take a deep breath and calm the fuck down.

  But it was out of my control. Whatever this was, it controlled me. My thoughts, my actions, everything was consumed by this crazed, insatiable need for Hazel, and I would’ve trampled over anything standing in the way of her and I if it meant I could have her.

  Perhaps it was because I knew this wasn’t a one way street, that the pull between us was undoubtedly as strong for her as it was for me. I'd seen it firsthand in the smile that lit up her beautiful face, or the way her eyes smoldered when she looked at me, or how every light touch, every brush of our fingers set us both aflame. It was undeniably real and something neither of us could seem to ignore, and coming to Vegas had solidified it all.

  Or so I thought.

  Aside from Jason abruptly ending our night long before we were ready, everything had been perfect. From the casual conversation, to that kiss, and everything else in between, I’d gone to bed under the impression we were moving along in the right direction. The morning’s events, however, proved I could not have been more wrong.

  I don't know what exactly I was expecting when I strolled up to Hazel’s table but what actually took place was far from it. Her reaction was disheartening. How she tensed at the sound of my voice and peeked up at me with panic in her eyes.

  The fire I’d seen burning there hours before was gone. But I brushed it off as the initial shock of yet another surprise and waited for her to say something, anything. Instead she glanced frantically between the three men seated around her like a deer caught in the headlights. I couldn’t decide if she was more worried about what they thought of me or that she would have to explain who I was.

  How would she begin to define us anyway? This thing had collided our lives with such force that we had no choice—ready or not—but to grab hold and ride the wave. And because of that, we’d bypassed the just friends zone before we even hit the ground running. Where that left us, I wasn’t so sure.

  I didn’t have to dwell on it long though. The answer became very clear when I noticed Hazel truly struggling to introduce me to the older gentleman beside her.

  Terrified, she stumbled and stammered over her words, wringing her fingers nervously in her lap, until finally she managed to say, he’s friends with Reyna. Talk about a bitter pill to swallow. It felt like she’d slapped me in the face and kneed me in the gut in one swift move.

  To say it stung barely began to scratch the surface, but amidst my chagrin, I stood tall and extended my hand to the man, throwing in a friendly smile for good measure. He introduced himself as Bernie, death-gripping my hand in the process, while observing me with stern brown eyes.

  Something about the way he looked at me and how Hazel seemed most concerned about his reaction, told me he wasn't just her coach. I made a mental note to ask her about it later, if there would even be a later, that is.

  Not wanting to feel like more of a fool t
han I already did, I took off shortly after that. I also decided to skip breakfast with Luis and Reyna. Whatever appetite I had prior to seeing Hazel had vanished and I was in no mood to be questioned by the two. They'd known me long to enough to sense when something was off and they would not hesitate to give me the third degree.

  I shot them a quick text and hightailed it straight up to my room, hoping the solitude would quiet my racing thoughts. Much to my dismay, however, being alone did nothing to calm my nerves or abolish the sense of imminent doom that hung over my head. In fact, it did quite the opposite, giving me far too much time to over-analyze every detail of the exchange and torment myself with the why’s and what if’s.

  After trying—and royally fucking failing—to figure out what I’d done for her to make such a drastic 180 from last night to this morning, I pulled out my phone to answer a few emails I’d seen come through late yesterday afternoon.

  It was merely a temporary distraction but I needed something to do other than stare at the ceiling and mentally berate myself for being such an idiot.

  Ten minutes later, I’d replied to all my clients for the upcoming week and answered some inquiries on my Facebook page regarding availability when I found myself scrolling through my text messages with Hazel. Probably not the best idea. Typing out a new message and sending it before I could think it through was also not a good idea.

  Can I see you?

  I stared at screen at those four little words, wondering if she’d already seen them. Would she reply? Ignore it all together? I sat there waiting and hoping for a response.

  I needed to see her, needed her to explain what was happening because I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Even if she gave me but five minutes of her time, it was better than going back home not knowing the truth.

  Much to my surprise, three little dots began dancing around on the screen and within seconds her reply pulled up a new bubble.

  Yeah. We need to talk anyway.