Twist My Heart (Wicked Games Book 1)

by Brooke Taylor

  “I don’t believe we have anything in lost and found, Mr. Steele,” he replied with a pouting frown. Nik feared the savvy clerk’s negotiating skills were as fiercely perfected as his eyebrows, until he winked and added, “At least nothing in your size pretty enough to go with those gorgeous green eyes.”

  Nik choked on a laugh. “Thank you, but I didn’t mean for me. My, um, guest”—is practically naked…—“lost her bags in the storm and we’d really like to go get something to eat, but she’s not comfortable going”—naked…—“in her, um…traveling clothes.”

  “Riiight. Well, what size is your”—Dylan paused to make actual freaking air quotes—“um…guest?”

  Nik bit back a retort. Of course Dylan would assume the…naked…“guest” who he’d brought up the back stairs, even though the lobby was closer to his room, was a hooker. Oh God, one with a dog! Nik didn’t have the kind of cash on hand for this kind of thing.

  Clenching his teeth, Nik gritted out, “Let me have a look at the clothes.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Steele, whatever you want, you can…have. I’ll be right over here, looking this way.”

  This way was apparently holding the C-note up to a light and striking it with a special highlighter before pocketing it. Yep, Dylan had seen and heard it all. Probably done his fair share himself.

  Nik sifted through the lost and found boxes, initially selecting some baggy, black sweatpants and a Jayhawks sweatshirt. Should keep the curvaceous feline covered up nicely. Then remembering the temperature outside would make those unbearable, he spotted a white dress with thin shoulder straps and a gauzy skirt. He also grabbed up a pair of sparkly flip-flops he guessed would fit the average range of women’s feet better than regular shoes.

  Heading back to the room, he had no clue if she’d like the clothes. Lord knows he’d tried to figure her out all evening, but she wasn’t having any of it. It didn’t make sense. What was she up to? Didn’t she want to figure out who she was or where she came from? Who might be looking for her?

  Why was she so cagey? Didn’t she want to go home? Maybe the memory loss was all an act. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. And what had she needed a gun for?

  Even though it was not his nature, Nik had been trained to be suspicious. He’d honed his skills of observation by analyzing body language, intent, and emotions. The mystery girl he’d fought to keep from ravaging all night wasn’t anything like what he trained for. In fact, she was proving to be much more difficult than the insurgents he typically dealt with.

  But even if it was all an act, there was one thing he knew for certain—she truly believed she had reason to be scared. Likely just the shock from the head injury and the memory loss. After eating and getting some rest, no doubt she’d rethink going to the hospital and he could be on his way.

  As he slid his key card into the slot, the hairs on the back of Nik’s neck tingled. He stilled. Through the opening doorway, he sighted the gun aimed perfectly left of his breastbone.

  His buddy Coop’s voice sounded in his mind, ‘It’s a good thing you don’t have a heart, Steele. One less thing to kill you.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’d probably bleed out and die slower’ had been his standard reply to his teammate’s incessant ribbing. Right now, he didn’t find the joke quite so funny.

  Chapter Seven

  “You told me you weren’t a killer.” I stared Nik down in the doorway as I leveled the gun I’d found in his bag at him. My hand had curled instinctively around the grip, as I’d stretched my index finger out alongside the trigger, but I was unsure if I even knew how to use the weapon.

  His eyes locked with mine as he drifted through the doorway. Reaching an arm out, he set the clothes he’d brought for me onto the vanity in the bathroom. Behind him, the door slipped shut with a solid, terminating click.

  “That’s not exactly what I said,” Nik drawled, standing in the hallway. He might’ve stopped moving forward, but he grew larger as he straightened—his spine rigid and his back flared out. He easily filled the passageway. My only way out.

  I distinctly recalled his solid and strong body pressing against me in the bathroom. No way in hell I’d be able to force my way past him.

  “I believe what I said was—I’m not a serial killer. I’m very much a killer.” He laughed, assumingly to himself since I was in no humor. “I hunt.”

  I may have lost my memories, but thankfully I hadn’t lost my intelligence. “This isn’t a hunting gun.”

  “Depends on what you’re hunting, doesn’t it?”

  Oh, shit. I swallowed hard and chased it with a measured breath. “Stay back.”

  “Put the gun down, Tigger.” Boredom teased in Nik’s voice. As he came closer, I widened my eyes at his courage. To which he explained, “It’s not even loaded.”

  “Stay back!” I wagged the useless piece of metal at him.

  He smirked. “Or what? You’ll throw it at me? Spoiler alert, Tiggs, I’m a pretty good catch and I have the mag—you know, the bullets.” He produced it from his left front pocket as proof and slid it back in. The twinkle in his eye begged me to try and come get it.

  As Nik eased forward another step, Titan curled his twitching lips back. His sharp hackles raised up and an evil snarling growl rumbled from his throat. Nik halted, opening his hands in front of him. At least we both knew Titan was loaded and ready to kill at my slightest indication.

  “I’m staying back.” Nik showed me his empty hands again. His body still blocked the hallway leading to the door. “Yes, I’ve killed. People. Although some shouldn’t be called human. I’m a Navy SEAL. Hunting and killing are some of the things we do. They were some pretty evil motherfuckers and I’m glad they’re gone from this world. I apologize if I wasn’t completely up front with you about it. For the record, the gun’s not even mine.”

  “Right. Sure. You’re holding it for a friend?”

  “You could say that.” This smirk was even more amused than the last. “We are friends now, aren’t we?”

  Terrified of the answer I knew was coming, I asked slowly, “Whose gun is it?”

  “Yours, Tiggs.”

  I tossed it onto the nearest bed, disgusted. Yep. Another bad choice made by her. I was really starting to hate this girl.

  “I took it off you when you were unconscious. But in the interest of full disclosure, and since I can tell you don’t like surprises—I have my own guns with me as well and they are loaded. I also have knives. I wouldn’t advise pointing a weapon at me again.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I’d already checked his bag, finding only the one gun. Mine.

  He hitched an impossibly broad shoulder at my skepticism. His jaw flexed hard, the desire to kill me back in full force. He really didn’t need a weapon. His bare hands could’ve done it easily. But his hand wasn’t bare when it returned from under his shirt. It held a dark gray pistol in its grip. He tapped an index finger to the magazine and winked before slipping it back under his shirt. From inside his front pocket, he produced another object. The knife sprang open as he flashed me a savage smile. The aggressive arc resembled one of Titan’s massive claws. Nik brought the glinting blade to his lips, blowing me a kiss off the cold, wicked steel.

  “Now…how about we go get those pancakes, Tigger?”

  * * * *

  I’d tossed the baggy sweat gear aside, opting for the white dress. It fit surprisingly well. If nothing else, I figured it would help get Nik’s attention back on kissing me. Seeing as how killing me was no longer one of those ‘in theory’ kind of things.

  Despite my body stiffening painfully from having the snack aisle of a Shell station fall on it, I managed a little extra swish of my skirt as I walked. Unfortunately, Nik was all business as he escorted me to the lobby. He hadn’t gotten over my pointing a gun at him and I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  The handsome reception desk clerk arched his bold brows and made wide eyes at me as we passed.

  “Why is he looking at me like t
hat?” I hissed under my breath.

  “Who? Dylan?” He gave the blond man a two-finger wave and a smile before turning back to me. “He thinks you’re a hooker.” He waited for my mouth to drop to add, “With a dog. Woof woof.”

  Why would a hooker need a dog? Oh… Wait, what? I shot Titan a questioning look, which he returned with a dramatic head tilt.

  Nik chuckled at my confusion and subsequent repulsion. His manly rumble curled warmth around me, but even so, I wanted to wipe the smug smile from his sexy face.

  “I don’t know why you’re laughing. I’m sure he thinks these bruises on my legs and this split lip were from you.”

  Nik stopped cold in his tracks. “I do not hit women.” His gritted-out statement was matter of fact and intended to end further conversation. The “Or children” he tacked on was meant to put me in my place.

  It stung. Instead of stomping my foot and insisting I wasn’t a child for crissakes, I made sure he didn’t know his cheap shot had wounded me. “And I am not a hooker with a dog, but here we are…off to get pancakes.” I smiled up at his scowl as I looped my arm through his and gave Dylan a little wave over my shoulder. “Woof woof.”

  * * * *

  Nik surveyed the restaurant as he approached, noting the cars in the parking lot, the surrounding streets, and nearby structures. He chose a parking place directly in front of the main doors which would allow him to drive straight out. He cataloged the exterior features of the All-Day All-Night Diner, not so much the 1970s architecture, but the construction of the building—the windows, the doorways, any ladders going up to the roof, the roofline.

  Inside, he again determined each exit, including a possible route through the kitchen galley where one waitress and one cook were currently doing tasks related to their respective jobs. He scanned the booths and tables, noting only two patrons, both male. Each appeared to be simply having a coffee or small meal, no doubt either getting an early start or taking a break on a long drive. The overweight white guy at the counter Nik assigned to the big rig alongside the parking lot. The black man in the booth he paired with a compact silver SUV. Judging from his dress pants and shoes, traveling salesman would be his first guess.

  Old habits. Nik liked staying aware of his surroundings. Besides, it kept him rooted in the here and now, which was a far better place than the uncertain future or the unshakeable past.

  Normally Nik would’ve gone for a table—easier to get in and out of—but he suspected Tigger would be more comfortable in a booth. He picked one close to an exit and away from the other two patrons, and slid in. He could easily see all the doorways as well as out the front windows to his Rubicon where Titan’s head currently stuck out of the backseat window. The beast was also assessing his surroundings. Probably figuring out the best bushes to piss on.

  Confident in his table choice, Nik settled in and handed Tigger, who’d trailed behind him without her usual spring in her step, a menu. Opening one for himself, he figured he’d get the Hungry Man breakfast special and a few cups of black coffee. “What looks good to you?”

  She stared blankly as she leafed through the six laminated pages showcasing every comfort food known to America. “Pancakes are fine.”

  “Just pancakes? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m starving… I…I don’t know what looks good to me.”

  “What’s your favorite?” he tossed out, grimacing as he realized his mistake.

  “Don’t laugh.”

  She’d misread his expression. He didn’t find it funny. In fact, his chest tightened as he noted the defeat in her voice matched the sullen look on her face. Guilt for giving her crap about the hooker stuff set in. He’d simply forgotten the hell she must be going through, not knowing who she was or who she could trust. It must’ve been terrifying to be wounded and trapped in a hotel room with a gun-toting stranger.

  He hadn’t done himself any favors reacting so aggressively by trapping her against the bathroom vanity, either. Thankfully, or maybe cursedly if her constant flirting had been any indication, she’d figured out his motive there had had more to do with passion than anything else. Still, he hadn’t handled this situation well and he didn’t like failure. He could do better.

  “I know all these words. I can read. I know what the foods are,” she bit off with defensiveness. Underlying her words, she was trying to tell him she wasn’t stupid. Shit, he knew that. Even with a head injury and in shock, she was more intelligent and quick-thinking than most.

  “Swear I wasn’t laughing.”

  She continued, exasperated, “I don’t know if I like the taste of any of them.” She let the brightly colored menu fall to the table and dropped her face into her hands. “Order for me, please.”

  His stomach knotted seeing his Tigger so deflated. Any doubts Nik had about her memory loss evaporated. He’d looked at some pretty sketchy menus in foreign countries and not known how to order, but he could always find some way of figuring out what he’d like to eat. Before he could quell her humiliation or work through some of the things on the menu, the waitress, wearing a gold and brown uniform and a nametag reading Wanda, appeared. “What can I get you folks?”

  “Morning, ma’am. Is it only breakfast right now?”

  “Naw, hun. All menu all-day, all-night exactly like our name. Order anything you want.”

  “Well, alrighty then…” He sat back as he gave his fisted knuckles a crack over the menu. “Let’s start with the Big Country Smasher breakfast, one egg over easy and one scrambled. It comes with both hash browns and pancakes, right? And it looks like only one meat, but I’ll need both bacon and sausage, so add one as a side, please. Oh, and a sweet roll. A cheeseburger—all the veggies—mustard and mayo on the side, and fries with that. Then, this chicken strip dinner looks good. Mashed potatoes, but can you do the gravy on the side? Steamed veggies. Meatloaf with onion rings and corn.” Nik closed the menu. “And what desserts do you have?”

  The aged waitress’s eyes widened as she finished scribbling down the order. “We have chocolate pie, banana cream, apple, and cherry.”

  “A slice of each. Vanilla ice cream on the side of the apple, chocolate with the chocolate pie, whipped cream on the cherry.”

  Wanda stopped writing, long past growing suspicious. “Look, I don’t know if you’re pranking me right now, but we get a lot of dine-n-dashers at this hour. If this is really what you want, you’ll need to pay up front.”

  “Not a problem. Consider this a down payment.” Nik pulled out his wallet and set a hundred-dollar bill down.

  She took the money and cocked a heavily penciled-in eyebrow. “And to drink?”

  “Iced tea, please.”

  “Sweet or unsweet?”

  “Both, and water with lemon…on the side.”

  “Uh-huh. And for you, miss?”

  A flash of panic skidded across Tigger’s face, but Nik interjected, “Oh, that is for her. Doesn’t look like a hearty eater, but trust me, she’s a real tiger when it comes to food.”

  An amused spark fired in the coppery eyes across the table from him, but Nik stayed in character. “I’m watching what I eat, so a side salad and coffee, black, for me.”

  “Dressing?” she asked carefully.

  “One of each on the side, please.”

  “Of course.”

  He handed their menus to her with a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Wanda may hate him now, but he’d be sure to tip enough to be getting Christmas cards from her for the next ten years.

  Chapter Eight

  Nik rubbed his palms together as Wanda approached with the first of three large trays of food. “You’re in for a treat, Tigger,” he said as he shot me a smile across the yellow booth.

  “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbled before he flashed a grin. “I have to call you something. Now, I need you to stay focused. It’s important for you to hit this hard and fast. This kind of food is best when it’s hot. I’m going t
o need you to keep moving and try everything.”

  I couldn’t even speak I was so excited. I pushed myself up with my palms, kicking off the oversized flip-flops and crossing my legs underneath me to give me a better view of the offerings.

  “We’re going to begin with breakfast. Fork up!” he commanded. I eagerly pulled my silverware from the cloth napkin as he slid the large breakfast platter in front of me. “Start with the eggs.”

  I looked at each egg and chose the fluffy scrambled one first. The texture was interesting, a little weird and the flavor a bit bland. “They’re okay.”

  “Now the over easy, like this.” He dug his fork into the yolk, taking a bite himself. I copied him.

  “I like it.”

  “Me too.” He shoveled in another bite, this time big enough to finish the egg off.

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t worry, Tiggs, we have bigger and better things ahead.” Taking two slices of meat, he ate one and held out the other. “I give you…bacon.”

  I nipped a small piece off the strip… Oh yeah, this is some good stuff. I leaned back across for another bite, but he snatched it away.

  “Eh eh eh… One taste each, you’ve got a lot of ground to cover, soldier.” He broke it in half before pushing both pieces into his mouth, devouring them as I forlornly watched on. “Moving forward, the sausage.”

  I pouted as I finished the link. Not as good as the bacon, but a solid contender. The hash browns were good, but bland.

  “Very astute. I now give you these.” He gathered the salt and pepper shakers. “Use them wisely. A little can go a long way. We also have ketchup. And if you need more artillery, this is some damn good stuff.”

  “Tabasco?” I reached out, but he held it just beyond my grasp.