by Olivia Arran
Yeah, me too.
Cole
Back at the house, and several hours later, I eventually emerged from one of the small, dark rooms just off the basement. Wiping my hands on a cloth, I gave up when all it did was smear the grime around. I had never wished for a shower as much as I did right now. I was covered in dirt and blood, and the water from the lake drying on my skin was starting to itch.
On the plus side, I could feel my skin knitting back together, the blood rushing to my wounds in an effort to speed the healing. It had hurt like a motherfucking bastard when Angel had dug out the bullet, but a hell of a lot less than it would have done if it had found its original target.
Heart hammering in my chest, panic gripped me and squeezed me tight.
My gaze snapped over to Tasha. She was curled up in a corner of the main basement, completely swaddled in a terrycloth robe with only her head peeking out. Her hands had a death grip on a mug of hot chocolate, the steam rising and curling around her as she blew carefully before taking a cautious sip. The tightening around my chest loosened. She was okay.
“What did he say?”
I didn’t have to ask who. She’d been seated out here waiting for me for hours. She knew exactly who I’d just been speaking to—or rather, interrogating. I shoved the blood-stained rag behind my back. No need for her to see the evidence. “Not much.” Exactly what I’d thought he’d say.
She struggled to her feet, her legs tangling in the white robe. “What do you mean, not much?”
Walking over to her, I stopped an arm’s breadth away. Blood and white toweling didn’t work well together. “He’s a paid assassin. He won’t tell us anything.” And I had been convincing. Very convincing. Let’s put it this way, he wasn’t walking out of here anytime soon.
I could see her connect the dots, reaching the conclusion I had known the second the shots had been fired.
“He’s still out there.” Her bottom lip wobbled and she clamped her mouth shut.
My arms twitched by my side, aching to hold her. But I had a man’s blood on my hands. I was filthy. Hell, I knew I wasn’t worthy of her but I was going to try my hardest to make it up to her. “Shh, we’ll find him. I promise.”
“He’s got money then.”
Pride swelled inside of me. My mate was sharp. She’d not only connected the dots, she was jumping ahead. “Yes. That guy didn’t come cheap.” The fact that he wasn’t spilling his guts spoke volumes as to how much he’d been paid. “He’s a professional.” I should know, I’d had the same training.
Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, her eyes flicked from me to the door I had just exited and back again. “So, what now?”
“I have a couple of ideas, but I need to check some details first,” I said, keeping my answer deliberately vague. I was pretty sure I knew who was behind this, but I didn’t have any evidence. I needed a little more time to lock the bastard down. “Why don’t you go get some sleep and we can talk again in the morning.” Again my arms tried to rise, my hands itching to smooth away the damp patch on her cheek. Not now, not yet, I cautioned both my wolf and myself.
I could see her closing down, pulling away from me and retreating into herself. Breaking my gaze, she turned and made her way up the stairs, back to the main house.
I needed to keep my head in the game for now. But after this was all over?
There’d be nothing holding me back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Natasha
Sleep? Was he trying to be funny? I shoved open the door at the top of the stairs, the daylight streaming in through the windows a mocking reminder that it wasn’t night yet, despite the illusion the dark, musty basement had given.
“Natasha, there you are!”
“Jorge?” Blinking in astonishment, I watched as the cluster of tall, musclebound wolf shifters parted, revealing Jorge standing in the middle.
Sensing freedom, he rushed toward me and grabbed my arm. “Are you okay? I was worried that you’d been caught in the crossfire!” He pushed me back, his gaze raking over me.
Quashing the familiar feeling of distaste I always got when he manhandled me, I forced myself to smile. “I’m fine. A slight graze but nothing serious.”
“Oh, thank God for that!”
Then it hit me. “Jorge, how did you know where I was?”
He stumbled back a step, righting himself almost instantly. “I was worried. When I saw the van leave with you in it, I followed you. Natasha, darling, these guys—” His lip curled, his eyes darting over the members of Cole’s team. He lowered his voice to a low hiss, leaning forward. “They’re a bunch of ruffians! I mean, look at today! You very nearly got shot! You could have died!”
I tugged my arm away, surreptitiously rubbing where his fingers had dug in. “I almost did. I’m only alive now because they saved me,” I snapped at him, my cool faltering under his steady stare. “They caught the guy, actually!” There, take that and chew on it!
“They did?” His eyes narrowed, and I’m pretty sure he would have frowned if he’d been able to. Botox ruined the effort.
I nodded. The guys were still milling around, trying to look busy, but I knew they were listening. Looking out for me. “Where’s Scar?” I asked Angel.
“In the kitchen cooking up a storm,” he replied, sounding hopeful.
“She always does that, cooking or baking when she’s in the middle of a crisis. It’s her way of coping.”
“Speaking of your sister,” Jorge murmured. “I didn’t know you had one. It’s astounding that you’ve managed to keep your family out of the press—”
“And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Of course.” He glanced around, his eyes pausing on the heavy, obviously expensive paintings and sumptuous elegance of the hallway. “Nice place these guys have.”
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Greg quipped from the corner of the room where he sat fiddling with wires and cables.
“And how did you find the money for—”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, do you?” Greg’s easygoing demeanor melted away, giving a glimpse of the alpha wolf inside. He was metaphorically baring his teeth.
“No. You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Jorge’s answer was vague, like he wasn’t really listening.
The door behind me swung open, and Cole finally appeared. What had taken him so long? He’d been right behind me…
“Jorge. This is a surprise.” He drew level with me, his arm brushing against mine.
Goosebumps erupted in a scatter of zaps and tingles.
“He followed me home to check that I was all right,” I offered.
Cole’s eyebrows arched high on his face. Scratching at his five o’clock shadow, he stared at Jorge. “You followed her to my house? Why, when you could have had your agent call to check on her.”
Jorge’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, but he held Cole’s gaze. “Like I said, I was worried.”
“Sure you were.” Cole turned and walked away, signaling the conversation was over.
I nearly felt sorry for Jorge. Nearly. It wasn’t his fault that his touch gave me the creeps. “Uh, it’s probably best if you go. Thanks for coming.”
He beamed at me, nearly blinding me with the whiteness of his smile. Cockiness oozed off him. He had clearly recovered from Cole’s brushoff. “No problem, darling. I’ll see you on set tomorrow.” He started toward the door, then came to an abrupt stop. “You have got the guy who did this locked up nice and secure, haven’t you? I only ask because I wouldn’t want him to have the chance to finish what he started.”
A chill traced a path down my spine, panic pooling in my stomach.
“He’s tied up in the basement. It’s very secure. There’s only one way in and out.” I jumped as Cole’s low voice came from behind me. I thought he’d left.
Jorge’s eyes flicked to the door through which Cole had arrived, his shoulders sagging with relief. “That’s good to know. I take it the po
lice will be arriving soon?”
“No. I’m going to let him stew for the night. See if I can get anything more out of him in the morning. He’s not going anywhere, not with the amount of ropes tying him down. Greg, will we be ready to head out in twenty?”
Greg muttered under his breath, but flashed Cole the A-Okay signal.
I wasn’t the only one whose mouth dropped open at Cole’s words, his teammates exchanging sideways glances.
“Good, good,” Jorge muttered, pulling the door open. “I’ll see you soon then, Natasha. Until then.”
The door clicked shut behind him and as one we all turned around to stare at Cole.
“What was that?” Vin was the first to put into words what we were all thinking.
“Nothing. He deserved to know that the assassin won’t be a threat anymore. Just putting his mind at rest.” Cole shrugged, then stalked off into the kitchen, the open door wafting the smell of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices into the hall.
Apparently Cole didn’t feel the need to explain himself about anything. The faint throbbing behind my eyes flared to life. Maybe sleep was a good idea after all.
Cole
“What the hell—?” Angel barked out after slamming into the kitchen.
Scarlett froze, halfway done retrieving yet another tin from the oven, the metal shaking just a fraction in her gloved hands.
“Sorry, Scarlett. Here, let me.” Angel grabbed a towel and took the pan from her, his smile widening as he breathed in the yeasty smell. Setting the loaf on the counter, he spun around to face me.
“Seriously, Cole. What the fuck?”
I fought back the urge to stiffen.
My wolf snarled inside of me, his ears pinned back.
He wasn’t challenging me. Not really. “Keep your voice down,” I growled, leaning back against the wall. I was pretty sure I’d done the right thing, but the waiting was going to kill me.
“Why?” Angel snapped back. If he’d been in wolf form, his fur would have been bristling.
“Does one of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Scarlett muttered, her head swiveling back and forth between us, a scowl dragging at her lips. “Someone tried to kill my sister today and you won’t let me near the son of a bitch.” She had a large bread knife in her hand and she was waving it around, punctuating her words. “I’ve had it up to here with men today, so if one of you doesn’t spit it out…” Her eyes glowed with her wolf, and a promise of what would come.
Greg and Vin chose that moment to barge into the kitchen. Whether they were led by their noses or their curiosity, I didn’t care. They needed to be here.
I looked behind them as the door swung shut. “Where’s Natasha?”
“Upstairs.” Vin’s reply was short, his brow furrowed as he stared at me.
I nodded. “And Abel?”
“Running patrol outside.” Greg flipped his laptop open and spun it around. A grid of little screens popped up, each showing a different section of the house. He jabbed a finger at a box labeled eight. “There he is.”
Black fur flashed across the tiny square, gold eyes glowing in the afternoon sun.
“Good. Vin, you need to go outside and run perimeter with him. Greg, I need you to power up the main system. I’ve baited the trap, now let’s see what we can catch.” Taking a deep breath, I braced my arms on the back of a chair, meeting their eyes one by one. “This is the plan…”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Natasha
“Are you awake?” Cole’s voice tugged me from dreamland.
I rolled over, dragging the pillow out from under my head and shoved it over my eyes. “No.”
“Tasha—”
“What?”
“I need you.”
His words had me bolting upright in bed, though I tried to mask my reaction by stretching my arms high above my head. He needed me?
He stood in the doorway, his large frame highlighted by the soft glow from the corridor, his face cast in shadows. He didn’t speak, and didn’t move. Images of him striding across the room and pulling me into his arms fizzled and died.
“What time is it?” I eventually asked.
“Late.” His voice sounded strangled, forced.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered, sliding out of the bed. My bare feet hit the floor with a soft thud.
A loud crack sounded from over where he stood.
I padded toward him, straining to see his face. “Cole?” I flicked the light on.
Cole’s shoved his hand behind his back, a guilty expression on his face. A large hole gaped in the doorframe right where his hand had been. Lines bracketed his mouth and his eyes were fixed firmly above my head.
“Cole?” I repeated.
“Could you put some clothes on?” he said, his voice clipped.
I glanced down at myself, not remembering what I had dragged on before falling into bed. Huh? No wonder he was acting all strange. I was clad in my bra and panties and nothing else. My stomach sunk as my throat tightened. He was asking me to get dressed, not ripping the rest of my clothes off…
“Tasha?”
I folded my arms over my chest. If he didn’t like the view then he could get the hell out. This was my bedroom, for the duration of my stay anyway. “What do you want, Cole?”
His gaze snapped to mine, and what I saw there took my breath away like a sucker punch to the gut. Need blazed in his eyes, burning heat, liquid, and churning in the green depths. “Okay, I give up,” he whispered, his eyes flicking heavenward.
Within seconds I was pinned against the wall, his mouth hot and wet and hard against mine. One hand cradled my head, the other snaked around my waist to hug my hip, pulling me hard against him.
“…mate…” His low growl was muffled, the word pressed to my lips.
I could feel his cock pressed between us, thick and ready, rubbing against the heat flaring in my core. My hips jutted out, urging him forward, wanting him to possess me, wanting everything he offered.
He groaned against my mouth, sharp teeth biting and tugging on my bottom lip. “Tasha—”
“Yes?” My reply was a breathy moan, my hands grasping and tugging at his shirt. His scent surrounded me, earthy and rich and male. His sheer size overwhelmed me. He was everywhere, blocking out the world.
He hesitated, his next groan sounding suspiciously like one of defeat.
I swallowed his groan, mashing our lips together in a clash of teeth and tongue, lashing and seeking, silencing whatever he felt the need to say. I didn’t want to know—didn’t need to know. Couldn’t he see? Life could be amazing if we didn’t judge every single action, analyze every little reaction.
Let me believe in happy ever after, just for a short while, I pleaded silently with him, using my body to convey my words, my wants, my desires.
“Tasha…” he murmured my name as he pulled away, his eyes cloudy with desire.
I had already decided I was leaving. There was no point putting off the inevitable. Why couldn’t he give me this one night of perfection, and then maybe, just maybe, I could walk away. “No,” I whispered, trying to tug his head back down.
It was like pushing a boulder up a hill. Immovable.
Bracing his hands on the wall on either side of me, he took a deep breath. Then another.
For good luck? I silenced the snarky voice inside my head with a swift kick. There’d be time for that later.
“I came to ask you to come to the control room with me.”
“Control room?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to cross my arms and shield my half-nakedness.
His eyes flickered from my face, darting down my body in a long, languid glide. “Fuck, Tasha. You take my breath away.” He sounded shell-shocked, like he couldn’t believe it.
My nipples stiffened, the lace of my bra scratchy and uncomfortable against my heated skin. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.
“Like what?” His voice was a low rumble.<
br />
“Like you want me.”
“Believe me when I say I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in the world.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did. “Then why? Why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Give me another chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve fucked things up, I know I’ve acted like an asshole, but give me just a little more time.” His eyes pleaded with me, the words coming out of his mouth everything I’d been waiting and hoping for. He stroked a finger down my cheek, the corner of his lip quirking. “We could be good together, you and me.”
“Cole—”
“Don’t answer now. Just think about it. I’m not going anywhere, and if I have to, I’ll follow you to your job, and the one after. Natasha Silk’s own personal bodyguard. I like it.” He let out a wry chuckle.
His words were the wakeup call I’d needed, smothering the hope that had sparked. The declaration now meant nothing. Would he want me without the fame? Not Natasha Silk, but just plain, old, boring Natasha Sands. A part of me yearned to take that leap of faith, to trust him not to hurt me—again—but the cynical part of me demanded that I protect myself. I had been betrayed by so many people whispering empty promises, using me then discarding me when they had what they wanted. Like Cole had when he’d walked away.
“Tasha?” He sounded unsure of himself, completely unlike his usual cocky self.
“How can I believe you? After everything we’ve been through, how you’ve acted, you expect me to just accept it all?”
He jerked as though my words were a physical slap. “I know it seems like that, but I had—”
“I don’t care what your reasons were. You screwed me then walked away. What can you possibly say to me that would excuse your behavior? Are you dying? Sick?” I shook my head, more to convince myself than him. I was doing the right thing, protecting myself.
“No. But—”
“But I should forgive you?”