A few girls walk by, smiling as they try to control their little rat dogs. Her building is covered in vines and flanked by two large palm trees, but whoever is trying to move in has made it easy for me to enter since a potted plant is holding the glass entrance door open. The hallway is a dirty cream color, reminding me of my sister’s dorm when I used to visit her.
“Excuse me, young man. Do you think something illegal is going on?” An old lady reaches her hand out her door.
I smile at her. “I think everything is okay. Can you point me in the direction of 6D?”
“Oh my, you’re such a handsome one.” She smiles. Her front teeth are missing. “It’s up the stairs, down the hall. I called the police because of the screaming and crying.” She pulls her bathrobe tighter around her neck.
“Well, the police are already here. I saw them as I pulled up.” I nod at her and follow the screaming. The carpet smells slightly of mildew, but that’s Hollywood for you. I rarely spend much time over here anymore. When I was in my twenties and had my band, I spent a lot of time in Hollywood. But now, unless I’m going to hear live music, I pretty much stay away.
Taking the stairs, I see the two cops immediately, along with a woman holding a baby and a man who seems very agitated. His eyes widen as he spots me.
“Great, who are you?” He waves his hands. This guy’s average in every way—one of those people you could talk to for hours yet turn around and not be able to pick him out of a police line-up.
The two cops turn to look at me and rest their hands on their holsters. Should it bother me? Probably, but honestly? The cops are the least of my worries. I should be getting my head examined for even being here.
“You Axel Fontaine?”
“I am.”
The one who’s shorter holds up his hand to the man, trying to calm him. He steps back and bites his nails. Hollywood might not be the place for him if his sweating is any indication.
“I’m Officer Ortega. We spoke on the phone. You’re her employer?”
“What difference does that make? You called. I’m here.”
I’m definitely getting more aggravated because this is drama. I don’t do drama—that’s an Edge thing, maybe even Blade, but not me.
The woman with the screaming baby looks at me. Her eyes are puffy, her face and neck have red splotches, and along with her stained sweats, she seems to be holding up about the same as her husband.
“What’s the problem?”
“This.” Ortega points his pen toward the inside of the apartment.
“She’s breaking the law. We’re supposed to be moving in and she won’t leave.” The woman is screaming over her baby, causing the child to scream even louder. Snot runs down its nose into its mouth. “She threatened my husband with a baseball bat.”
I turn to her. “Why don’t you and the baby get some fresh air, maybe a walk.” She blinks up at me.
“Oh.” Her cheeks get redder as she rubs her baby’s back. The man looks at his wife then me as he straightens to his full height, not even coming up to my chin.
He glares. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but she’s in the wrong. I have a baby, and we just got into town…”
My stare makes him shut up.
“What happened?” I glance at the two cops.
“Apparently, the landlord, who we haven’t talked to yet, rented out Ms. Van Doran’s apartment. She’s three months behind on rent.”
“That’s a lie,” she yells from inside. It’s raspy, alerting me that she’s also been crying. I grit my teeth at the idea that I’m starting to know these things about her.
“Allegedly she pulled a baseball bat on him and threatened to use it if they set foot in the apartment.” He nods toward the man. “The couple wants to press charges.”
The man looks up from staring at his shoes. “Yes. She absolutely threatened me. I don’t know why the cops haven’t taken her away yet.” He looks like he wants to burst into tears. I almost laugh because what a fucking cunt. Instead I move around the cops to enter.
Then I stop at what I see.
“Christ.” I scrub my hands up and down my face. “What are you doing?”
She sits in the middle of the living room, like she’s on a throne, but it’s not. It’s a crappy purple beanbag chair. Legs crossed, head high, and in her lap, a wooden baseball bat.
“Antoinette?” I say sharply, causing her to look up at me. And for a brief second, I see all of her. Her fear and desperation, it’s all there. Her pale face makes her blue eyes look huge. I have no idea what it is about her, why I can’t seem to stay away. Why I want to take her and protect her from everything. Fuck, the biggest person I should be protecting her from is me.
“Mitchell…” She bites her top lip to stop whatever else she was about to say.
“You okay?”
She tightens her hands on the bat. Her long hair spills around her shoulders in a spectacular disarray of curls. Jesus, she’s breathtaking.
I want her.
Fuck, I’m fighting myself not to pick her up and fuck her right now, wrap my hands around those silken tresses, bury my face, and let myself find nirvana.
Turning, I kick the door shut.
ANTOINETTE
The door slams and I dig my nails into the wooden bat.
He came.
As he walks toward me, stopping at the end of my beanbag chair, my pulse races and it’s hard to catch my breath. I need to get ahold of my emotions. The idiots with the baby are forgotten, nothing but an annoyance that earlier seemed like the end of the world.
My cheeks burn as I look straight at his crotch and hear Frenchie’s voice. Does he really have a giant cock?
I shouldn’t have asked for the cops to call and ask for him. Crystal would have probably helped had I insisted. After all, she’s the one who has secretly kept me on the books stating that I can come back as soon as some guy named Edge returns.
He crouches down in front of me. Watching the way his thighs strain against his jeans, I grip the bat tighter as if it can help me fight these raging feelings.
It must be his physical beauty that has me acting like this. I can’t understand it otherwise. Mitchell makes me feel secure. Even though I know in my head it’s ridiculous, I can’t help it.
“Give me the bat, baby.” And I think I might die. I have to pull myself together and stop staring at him like he’s special. Remember that I had him called because he’s the only man I know who can make my landlord, the cops, and some crazy couple with a baby not toss me into the streets.
Inhaling, I gaze at him. He’s so beautiful it’s hard not to feel special when he looks at you the way he looks at me. Clearing my voice, I push my shoulders back.
This is Axel. Axel throws out endearments to all the girls. I can’t be an idiot and fall for him every time he calls me “baby.” It’s pathetic.
Cocking his head, he assesses my face. He reaches for my bat like I’m an annoying child.
“No.”
His lips curl into a sneer and for a split second, I think I might have seen admiration in his eyes. But he stands and it’s hard for my eyes to follow. Jesus, the man is tall. A moment of panic infiltrates my brain. He can’t leave. He’s supposed to save me.
“Wait.” My voice completely betrays all my earlier bravado. I sound hysterical.
“Stand up, Antoinette,” he demands. Again, his voice makes it sound like he’s dealing with a task that is beneath him.
His eyes look around my disaster of an apartment. It’s filthy. Dust and dirt everywhere, most of the furniture gone except my beanbag chair and a small table since Heather took everything, even the vacuum cleaner, with her.
I leap up, nearly falling as I try to stand straight on my lumpy beanbag chair. Reaching for his arm, I try to steady myself.
“Sorry.” I let go and look him in the eyes. He nods, eyes narrowing, his full lips breaking into a grin as if he thinks… I don’t even know what he must think about me.
&nbs
p; “Look, this is not what it seems. One of my roommates, the one who found this apartment, had the lease in her name. She bailed on me and my other roommate. And stole over two months of rent so that she could move in with her deadbeat boyfriend.” I blurt it out so fast that I’m forced to gulp in a breath. His eyes laser in on me.
“And then you fired me, so Ryan…” I swallow, trying to rid the scratchiness in my throat. “That’s my landlord. He demanded that I have all the money by the first and I thought I would, but you fired m—”
“Give me the bat.” He takes it and this time I do let go.
“I’ll take care of it.” For some reason, I get goose bumps. I cross my arms and he moves toward the door.
“Mitch—I mean Axel.”
He turns, his eyes are so… hard, almost terrifying. “Do you want me to take care of this, Antoinette?”
I stumble off the beanbag chair. This man supposedly kills people. I didn’t think this through hours ago. I was so angry and I wanted help, but now that I’m faced with this question, do I?
He waits as my mind scrambles to catch up with what is happening.
“Yes,” I croak. “Yes. I want you to take care of it.”
His eyes rove over me, and I’m struck again by his sheer perfection. His physical beauty is disarming. The man is model perfect. I’m embarrassed that I’m getting aroused simply watching him, listening to him.
“Good girl. Now pack a bag. You’re coming with me. I’ll have some of my guys get the rest of your stuff tomorrow.” My eyes bolt up to his.
“What?” I move toward him then stop as I almost collide into his back when he turns.
“You said for me to take care of this and I will. Get your stuff, or don’t. I don’t care.”
“But this is my apartment. I’m not leaving. I mean, that’s why I had them call you so that you would make them lea—” I stop because that sounded bad, awful actually.
He arches a dark brow. His full lips, which should be on the cover of a magazine, curl into a smirk that I’m beginning to recognize.
I sink down into the beanbag chair and cover my face. If I leave, then I’m basically gone, forfeiting. And I have zero money. I can’t go to a hotel or get another place. And I’m not a whore. I need to pull myself together and communicate with him.
“Axel, I have no money for a new place. If I leave, I have nowhere to go.” My voice cracks as I keep my face hidden in my hands.
“Get your stuff.” It’s all he says and I hear the door open and close, followed by silence. I freeze, waiting to hear yelling, maybe even gunshots, but nothing.
My hands drop with a small thud on the fake leather of the beanbag chair. I did this. He asked me if I wanted him to take care of it and I said yes… Holy shit.
Running to my bedroom, I grab my dance bag and start stuffing clothes into it. Then I bang open the door to Bella’s room, which looks perfect since no one goes in here. A moment of anger comes over me. Bella was supposed to be my best friend, and yet where is she? Oh yeah, she’s living in seven-star hotels and dancing with P!nk. God, she hasn’t even called to check on me.
“Screw this.” I fling open her closet door, pull out her large luggage, and roll it into my shithole of a room. In minutes, I’ve filled it up. I run to the kitchen and grab some garbage bags. If I’m going to be homeless, I might as well do it right.
Marching into my room again, I kneel and start to toss all my shoes into the black Hefty bag when I feel him. Sniffing, I lift my head and stare right into his eyes.
“Let’s go.”
We stare at each other, his eyes unreadable while mine are probably wild. I stand.
“What happened?”
“I took care of it.”
His eyes trail over my body and for the first time all day, I realize I probably look crazy in my black leggings and short black dance top. I go to at least put my hair up in a messy bun when his voice stops me.
“No. I like it down. And put on a shirt.” His gravelly voice has an almost melodic sound to it, and I wonder if it’s true that he knows Rhys Granger.
“Oh.” My hands drop as I wipe them on my legs. “I need to get my bathroom stuff.”
I blink at him, trying to stop my heart from racing in my chest. I’m a professional dancer and it seems like my heart beats faster when he’s around than when I train.
“I have all that stuff.” He’s not being rude, but he’s speaking in a tone that I guess people simply obey.
“Look, I know I asked for your help but… you don’t have to act like this,” I snap right back. “You fired me. Had you not, I would be able to pay my asshole landlord money and I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
He frowns, and I take a step back. Suddenly it dawns on me that I know nothing about this man other than he’s gorgeous and might be a drug dealer and a murderer.
“But you don’t have any money and you do need me.” His warm breath is almost like a caress on my cheek. He’s too close and the room suddenly feels too small. I take a step back. Honestly I don’t even know I’m doing it until the bag slips from my hand.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my mind finally registering that I had the cops call a killer to protect me. Naively I believed that no one who looks like him can be all that bad. Now I’m not so sure. What if I go with him and he kills me? Or rapes me? No, that’s stupid. If he intended to rape me, he would already have done it at the club, right?
“You scared of me, Antoinette?”
I jump at his voice, not because he’s loud, but because he knows I’m scared. If I don’t pull myself together, I’ll hyperventilate.
“No,” I lie—I’m terrified for plenty of reasons.
His eyes caress my face and he smiles as if he’s the devil himself and my heart skips a beat. I can’t think straight. No one could if they were graced with a smile like his. So, I say the first thing that pops into my mind.
“I need my birth control pills.”
Holy God.
What is wrong with me? I want to die, let the room swallow me up, so I can sink into the floor and dissolve.
“Oh my God—” I stutter as I move away and break his spell on me. Or maybe my craziness broke it, but whatever… it’s gone. I turn to run into my bathroom. If I lock myself in, will he leave?
No doubt he’ll leave, and I don’t want him to leave me. I swallow down my humiliation and with shaky hands grab my makeup bag, dropping my deodorant and my birth control into it. I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. Apparently without them, I’d rarely have a period. My aunt had me examined when I moved in with her after the tragedy. She was upset that a girl my age had not had a period yet. The doctor explained that with as much dancing as I do and my low level of body fat, I was not ovulating.
Hence the pill.
Like a robot, I look around for anything else I might need. Nothing but unneeded stuff, and something tells me I should hurry. He said he’ll send guys, so I guess I need to trust him.
Axel’s back is to me as I come out of my room dragging Bella’s giant suitcase. His black leather vest makes me take a deep inhale, because no matter how I try to convince myself that he’s not a bad guy and only a regular boss at a club, I know he’s not. He’s dangerous and I’m mortified that I like that.
I like it a lot.
The large Disciples patch with the same wings and a dagger I saw tattooed on his chest is a reminder that he’s out of my league.
But he came; he’s here. That must mean something.
“I’m ready.” My voice cracks, and I bite down on my lip to stop it from trembling. Like a coward, I stare at my tennis shoes, afraid that he can read my mind. He seems to have an uncanny knack for knowing what I’m thinking.
“Look at me,” he commands.
My eyes bolt to his. In seconds, the deep sapphire color changes to an almost black and I can tell he likes that. He likes it when I do what he says.
I puff out the air I was holding. My arms pebble with goo
se bumps. Axel reaches for my bag and I smell him, always fresh and clean, almost like the first drops of rain.
“Put a jacket on.” His mouth is at my ear.
I swallow. “I’m nervous.”
Wide-eyed, I wonder why I can’t remain quiet. As I turn my heated face into the hall closet, I fight the urge to hide inside it. Instead, I reach for my favorite three-quarter-length jacket and slip it on.
“Is this better?” It must please him since he grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“Relax,” he says.
I nod up at him, letting him lead me out, not once looking back.
AXEL
She’s been mute the whole drive up the canyon. The windows are open. If she doesn’t like it, I wouldn’t know. When I’m in a car, I prefer fresh air to the air conditioner.
Turning onto the long driveway that leads to the clubhouse, I gun it on the gravel, causing her to move forward, her hands trying to control her long hair. It’s wild and the just-fucked look is one of my favorites. So, it’s good that I can barely see her in the dark and all I do see are the glow from the dashboard and the lights from the clubhouse up ahead. I take a deep drag on my cigarette and flick it out the window.
It didn’t even occur to me not to bring her here. But she’s nervous and uncomfortable. Her leg is bouncing a mile a minute. And she’s picking at her nail polish. Yep… this is a mistake, but I’m too tired to drop her at a hotel now.
Tomorrow I’ll give her some cash. Maybe I’ll call Charlie. See if she needs help at the diner.
“Look.” I sigh. My head is pounding from being on the road earlier today for hours. That and being robbed. It has nothing to do with how the ice princess who sits next to me has invaded my life, my space. “Antoinette.”
She turns and a wisp of her silver locks blows across her face as her pretty fingers brush it away.
“Christ.” I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. “I need you to stay in my room unless I’m with you, understand?”
Ignite (The Disciples Book 4) Page 9