Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2)

by Sybil Bartel

  “Just a through and through. It’ll heal.” He winked at me then inclined his head at my suitcase and smiled. “I hope I grabbed the right stuff.”

  His smile was making me uncomfortable. “Thanks. I’m gonna shower.”

  “You want me to stick around?” He lifted his injured arm. “Luna sidelined me. I’m bored as hell.”

  “Um, no, I got it.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t mean to watch you get dressed. Relax, babe, just company.” He turned to close the door behind him and Viking strode in. In a suit.

  His glare trained on Tyler, he looked no less menacing than if he’d been in fatigues with guns strapped all over him. “I gave instructions to text me from the garage.”

  “Just keeping her company, Christensen.”

  “She does not want your company.”

  Tyler chuckled but there was a nervous edge to it. “Ten-four, boss.” He glanced at me and his tone went all formal. “My apologies, Miss Walsh.” He walked out and quietly closed the door behind him.

  “Jerk,” I muttered.

  Viking leveled me with a stare that was one hundred percent pissed. “Do not open the door for anyone besides me or Luna.”

  “He had my clothes.”

  “You should have told him to leave them in the hall.”

  Right. “Nice suit.” My tone was sarcastic as hell.

  “Get dressed.”

  He took his phone out and strode to the balcony. He touched the edge of the door and the mullion slid open to reveal a handle. He opened the slider, stepped out and shut the door behind him as he put his phone to his ear.

  Fucking fancy condo.

  I pulled the suitcase and bag to the guest room and took my time showering. I found my hair dryer and makeup bag and even my jewelry bag in the suitcase. Most of the clothes looked familiar and having my own stuff gave me a sense of calm, but nothing triggered any more memories.

  I carefully did my hair and makeup so you couldn’t see the bruising. The whole time, I tried like hell not to think about Conner or how he was doing. But by the time I sifted through the three cheap dresses in the garment bag and pulled one on, I was intent on hearing my son’s voice.

  I strode into the living room in heels that made me appear more confident than I felt and found Viking standing by the windows, his hands in his pockets. “I want to call Conner before he goes to sleep.”

  Without turning, Viking placed a call on his cell. He spoke a few words in Danish then held the phone out without making eye contact.

  I stepped forward and took the phone. “Conner?”

  There was a shuffling noise, his giggle, then, “Mama?”

  Relief washed through me and I sank to the edge of coffee table. “Hi, baby. It’s Mama. How are you?”

  “Ice cream!” he squealed in delight.

  “Aw, c’mon, C-man,” a male voice said in the background. “You just threw me under the bus. Tell Mama you ate your vegetables.”

  Conner dissolved into giggles. “No carrots. Ice cream!”

  I smiled. “Enjoy your ice cream, sweet boy. I just wanted to say I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

  “Lubboo, Mama!” He put the phone down and I heard silverware clanking then the line went dead.

  I set Viking’s phone on the coffee table and made my way back to the bathroom in the guestroom. Gripping the counter, I breathed through my nose and tried not to cry.

  “He is fine.” Viking’s deep voice cut through my pity party.

  “I know.” I straightened and turned.

  Leaning on the doorframe, one hand on his hip, Viking had pushed his jacket back just enough to reveal a shoulder holster with a gun on his left side. “Ready?”

  I was sure his stance was purposeful to show me he was armed. “And if I’m not, does it matter?” I walked toward him and he moved out of the way.

  “You need to eat.”

  Yeah, food. Because that’s all this was, a date. I scoffed. “At Pietra’s.”

  “You will enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure.” Was he out of his fucking mind? “Between looking over my shoulder and the scintillating conversation with you, I can’t wait. Let’s get this over with.” I walked to the front door and reached for the handle.

  “Stop.”

  He moved in front of me and blocked the door. “Left side, one step back. If I give you instructions, follow them. Questions?”

  I was too damn nervous to be offended by his bossy attitude. In fact, I would never admit this to him, but I was starting to rely on it. His unwavering alphaness was the one constant I’d had since I’d woken up in that warehouse. “What if Candle doesn’t show?”

  “He will,” he said confidently.

  “And you know this, how?” I couldn’t decide which I liked better, him shirtless or in a suit.

  “His moves are predictable.”

  I had to point out the obvious. “Yet he was able to kidnap us both.”

  For two heartbeats, he stared at me. “I was not going to let a woman get taken alone,” he finally said.

  I blinked, immediately understanding his nuance. “You let him take you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you said you made a mistake.”

  “On purpose.”

  “So…” Oh my God. He didn’t make a mistake. It was calculated. Everything Viking did was calculated. My thoughts, my gratitude for him just seconds ago, it all swung in a pendulum and I was staring at a man who had zero feelings for me. It didn’t matter everything he’d done for me, I couldn’t see past what he’d just admitted. I was just a woman to him. I could’ve been any woman. André was right. I mentally shoved everything down because any emotion I showed, I knew Viking would read into it.

  I nodded and used my best matter-of-fact voice. “I’m ready.”

  He opened the door and I followed him to the elevator.

  I tried not to think about the last twenty-four hours but my mind was reeling. I watched him glance in every direction and take in his surroundings. His awareness wasn’t practiced or even an act, it was ingrained. None of his movements were wasted. Every one of them was purposeful and he thought fifteen steps ahead of anyone I’d ever met, maybe more.

  We rode the elevator down to the garage in silence and I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. He held a hand up when the doors opened and after a quick glance, he nodded for me to follow.

  Feeling like a leashed dog, I kept my designated distance and we bypassed the truck he’d parked the bike in front of last night and walked to a Jaguar XJR parked two spots over. It was huge and new and probably more expensive than five years’ worth of my earnings at the strip club. Viking opened the passenger door and as my ass slid across butter-soft leather, all I could think was the ridiculously expensive car said more about him than anything he’d told me about himself. Viking didn’t compromise. Ever.

  We rode to the restaurant in silence and Viking pulled up front and got out before the valet could get to his door. He moved around the front of vehicle, but unlike in the garage or the drive here, he didn’t glance around. It was almost as if he wanted to appear like he wasn’t looking.

  He opened my door and his eyes zeroed in on my mine but he didn’t offer a hand to help me. In fact, he hadn’t touched me at all since he’d finger-fucked me like a cheap whore. The valet standing behind him looked as nervous as I felt.

  I glanced at his impeccable charcoal-gray suit. Dark blue shirt, no tie, his shoes looking like they were bought this afternoon, he was cover model gorgeous. Worse, he acted like he didn’t give a damn. I smoothed my hands over my red lace dress and wondered if it was a bad choice. Fuck it, it was too late now. I swung both legs out and stood with a grace that’d taken me years to perfect. “Valet? How normal of you.”

  He shut the door but didn’t comment. With a nod at the valet, he walked to the entrance of the restaurant I couldn’t afford and held the door.

  I waltzed in and the hostess looked over my shoulder and
smiled at Viking. “Good evening, Mr. Christensen. Nice to see you again. I have your table ready.”

  “Thank you, Clara,” he quietly replied.

  The hostess blushed and my bravado faltered. Not only was she pretty in a way I’d never be, her dress was designer. Even in the most expensive outfit I owned, I didn’t fit in with Viking’s world.

  “Right this way.” Clara turned and Viking held his hand out like I should follow her first.

  I stared at the hostess’s perfectly tight ass and small hips as she led us to a booth in the back and wondered for the hundredth time how the hell I’d attracted Viking’s attention in the first place.

  “Enjoy your evening.” Her half-a-second glance in my direction was friendly enough but the instant dismissal spoke for itself.

  Fighting to contain the scowl on my face, I slid into the booth and waited until Viking lowered his massive frame and settled a solid two feet away from me. “So McDonalds wasn’t taking reservations tonight?”

  “You are nervous.” He folded his hands and placed them on the table.

  “Besides the obvious, why did you bring me here?”

  “To eat.”

  “There are hundreds of restaurants in Miami.”

  He studied me a moment and I fought to keep from squirming. “I like this one.”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “Why?”

  Was he kidding? “Do you see any other strippers here?”

  “I am not concerned with convention.”

  What the hell did that mean? “Good for you.” I reached for the menu but he took it out of my hands.

  “I will order.”

  “Shocker.” I crossed my arms and a waiter appeared.

  “Mr. Christensen, nice of you to join us again.” The elderly waiter glanced at me and tried not to look at my tits. “You have a lovely date with you this evening.”

  Neil briskly recited an order complete with wine. I’d say he was irritated but his expression never changed, so who knew what the hell he was thinking.

  The waiter cocked his head and frowned. “I would recommend a red with that.”

  “She does not drink red.”

  “Of course.” The waiter retreated.

  I stared at Viking. “How do you know that?”

  “I asked.” Like he said everything else, he stated the answer. No intonation, no apology, no emotion.

  “Who did you ask?” And why?

  “White wine, Diet Coke, frozen meals, tropical fruit, milk, graham crackers and yellow rice.” He rattled off the items, giving me not only the answer to a different question but my usual shopping list.

  I stilled, alarm raising the hair on the back of my neck. Who would know that except… “How the hell do you know what I buy at the supermarket? Were you stalking me before all of this?”

  “I do not stalk. If I am interested in a woman, I learn her preferences.”

  Interested? Is that what this was? “Was that before or after I was kidnapped?”

  “Before.”

  “So you asked my ex what I buy at the grocery store?” It was so fucked-up on so many levels, I didn’t even have an emotion to fit that level of crazy.

  “No, I asked the cashier at the grocery store around the corner from your apartment when I bought you groceries last week.”

  He bought me groceries? The shame was instant. “I want to leave.” Fuck his plan to lure out Candle.

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Answer one question then we will leave if that is what you still want.”

  “How about you answer a question? You said I was important to you then you said no attachments. You said you wouldn’t have asked me on a date, yet here we are, at a restaurant, after you’ve fucked me and gotten so deep in my problems that you were almost hanged. You can’t wake up next to me but you’ll piss all over some guy who brings me clothes? What the hell kind of no attachment is that?” I thought I had him. I thought I’d finally turned the tables on him. But I hadn’t even come close.

  “The sexual kind. Are you ready to answer my question?”

  Jesus, I was a fucking idiot for even asking. To his credit, he didn’t mock me, he simply stated the answer. “What’s your question?” I asked, weary.

  “What do you know about me?”

  Was this a trick question? He knew I didn’t remember him. “You’re a contractor and you’re loaded.”

  “And how did you come about this information?”

  “That’s two questions.”

  His penetrating stare was my only response.

  I exhaled. “I asked.”

  “You asked. You learned.” He leaned back as if he’d proven his point and the waiter appeared with the wine.

  Holding the bottle out, label up, the waiter looked at Neil.

  Ignoring him, Neil gave me a choice. “Your decision.”

  Shit. I was starving and I’d never get another chance to try this restaurant, that was, if Candle didn’t show up and fuck everything all to hell. Not to mention, Viking had a point. I leaned back in my seat and Neil nodded at the waiter.

  Instead of tasting the wine when the waiter poured some in Neil’s glass, he inclined his head to me and the waiter smiled as he poured my glass then set the bottle on the table and left.

  “You’re not having any?”

  “No.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Then why did you get a whole bottle?”

  He read a text then placed his cell on the table. “Try the wine.”

  Christ. “Do you ever answer a direct question?”

  “Try it.”

  I refrained from giving him attitude and took a sip. Crisp, tart fruit exploded on my palate and I took a large gulp. “It’s decent.” It was the best wine I ever remembered tasting.

  The corner of his mouth twitched and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I just saw his shoulders relax. “I know.”

  “Then why ask?” I drank a quarter of the glass in one breath to calm my nerves.

  “Are you testing my credibility or wine knowledge?”

  “Does it matter? It’s not like you’re going to answer either way.”

  A slight line appeared between his eyebrows. “I do not withhold information from you.”

  “Uh-huh.” I twirled the glass only to stop myself from chugging it down. Two twirls and I figured I’d shown enough restraint. I polished off the glass. “So…” I set the glass down. “What do you want to talk about?” I glanced around the restaurant. Yeah, no strippers in this crowd.

  Viking inclined his head at my glass. “Was that to prove a point or do you have a problem?”

  Heat rose in my cheeks and I studied my empty glass. “You know, you have a way of making people feel like shit.”

  “People or you?”

  What a jerk. He knew I was uncomfortable here. “Going out on a limb here but I’m gonna go with people.” I was sure I wasn’t the first person to be insulted by him.

  Casual, like he hadn’t just accused me of being an alcoholic, he refilled my wine glass. “I am not responsible for what people think.”

  I took the glass and drank because why the hell not? “Does that work for you? The whole no accountability thing?”

  His phone vibrated with a new text and he glanced at it.

  “Is he here?” I asked nervously.

  “No.” He focused back on me. “Who said I am not accountable?”

  I didn’t have enough alcohol in my system to deal with this shit. I shifted in my seat and thrust my tits out. “Do you like my dress?” Two could play this game.

  His eyes didn’t even hint at moving south. “You do not strike me as someone who needs reassurance.”

  About my looks? I didn’t. But about my bank account? In here? I knew who I was and it wasn’t someone who threw away money. “It’s cheap as shit. It’s years old and from a clearance rack at a discount store. And my shoes?” I rubbed his leg under the table with the toe of my shoe just to see wh
at he’d do. “They’re not designer. Know why?”

  He didn’t move but for the first time all night, something shifted in his expression. “You are a single mother.”

  “So that makes me poor? Thrifty? Able to prioritize?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I drank more wine. “Let me help you out. It’s all of the above, but mostly, it’s because I don’t see the value in a thousand-dollar dress.” I glanced around the restaurant. “Or a five-hundred-dollar meal. It doesn’t impress me.” But being alive did. Funny how getting kidnapped would do that to you.

  With his eyes on mine like he had complete control of this whole conversation, his massive hand reached for his water. Slow and calculated, he ran his fingers the entire length of the glass before he picked it up.

  He was good, I’d give him that. He knew exactly what he was doing. My mind strayed to what I knew those fingers were capable of and when his lips touched the glass, it got hot as hell in the restaurant. His Adam’s apple moved with his swallow and I hated that his simple movement had become my new version of porn.

  He set his glass down but casually left his arm on the table. “I grew up in a rural area.”

  I fought to keep from looking surprised. “You’re sharing personal information?”

  “Yes.”

  I glanced at the calluses on his hands, knowing how they felt dragging up my thighs. “Miami, born and raised. But you probably already know that.”

  “We hunted for the winter,” he continued, ignoring my jab. “Fished in the summer.” His gaze drifted. “It was a simple life.”

  “From humble beginnings to Armani.” I guessed the only men’s suit brand I knew.

  “Brioni,” he corrected, glancing at me with disapproval.

  “Of course.” I didn’t know Brioni from Barney—the purple stuffed Barney—and before today, I’d never cared about my ignorance. Proving my enormous restraint, I only drank three more sips of the wine.

  “I appreciate the cut of a custom-tailored suit.”

  “I appreciate the state-funded walk-in clinic in my neighborhood and not having car payments,” I countered.

  “You have a smart mouth for a female.”

  “Female. Wow. Impressive comeback, but we both know we’re not here on a date, so what the hell does it matter who I am?”