by Kira Blakely
The two men have their backs facing me. They’re scoping out a new-year model for one of our best-selling crossovers. If I had a decent-paying wage, I might have considered snagging the car for its current financing promo. Seeing as I’m too broke for a pair of Manolo Blahniks, a car isn’t at the top of my priority list.
“Excuse me,” I say, dialing up the charm. I’ll need it to shoo these big, tall muscled men away. Good thing I’ve sworn off of sex. These dudes are hunks…in a scary, thuggish kinda way. One is rocking a man bun; the other has shaved his sides short and sports a curling, curving pomp at his hairline. They’re both inked heavily, and their identical black T-shirts show off their impressive tat work.
I have their attention now.
They swivel together, in synch. I’m reminded of a boy band—only these guys are far from boyish. They remind me of a certain CFO. I haven’t thought of him in two months… Okay, I’m lying. I have. He’s all I think about when my rabbit is going wild between my legs, paling in comparison to the pleasure Cas gifted me once.
Realizing where my thoughts have run off to in front of these dudes, I add more wattage to my smile.
“I’m sorry, there must have been a misunderstanding. We’re closed at the moment.”
“No misunderstanding.” Man-Bun cocks his head, his muddied shitkickers sliding closer.
His buddy, Crew Cut mimics his stance. “You Jade Dunn? Tyler Wagner’s girl?”
At my ex’s name, I gulp. They have to hear me sweating bullets, frenetically searching my memory for their faces and calling up nothing. I haven’t ever seen these two guys with Tyler. Then again, I hardly ever cared about who my deadbeat ex-boyfriend deigned to call “friends.”
“I don’t know of a Tyler.” It’s a bold lie, one I’m hoping they’ll bite. All the while I’m cursing Tyler. What the fuck did you do now?
At their probing silence, I resist the instinct to squirm in place. And here I thought Alan’s gaze was annoying. These guys aren’t fucking me with their eyes, though. More like sizing up the distance between me and the nearest exit.
“You know what? I’ll just grab my boss.” I hook my thumbs over my shoulder, easing back out of the showroom. “He’ll be able to help you out better.”
I freeze when Crew Cut fishes out a pocket knife. The short blade glints under the showroom’s glaring white ceiling lights.
“We aren’t here for your boss, Jade. We’re here on account of ours.” Man-Bun crooks a finger at me. “Come with us, and no one gets hurt.”
Floored by my fear for too long, adrenaline surges through me and I fall into flight mode. I spin, racing out of the showroom, screaming for Alan. He’s ripping open his office door, his eyes widening, his jaw dropping open.
I make the mistake of looking back.
Man-Bun is right behind me, and I lose my footing, sailing to the floor. He plucks me up like I weigh nothing—which, after all my stress eating these past two months, is a total lie and a testament to his strength.
“Let her go!” Alan snaps out of his stupor and he charges from his office. I’m desperate for back-up, but my boss is a shrimp compared to these guys. Worse, there’s two of them.
That doesn’t stop Alan from drawing out his cell phone. “I’m calling the police,” he informs them.
Crew Cut moves in like a big cat on the prowl, its prey within claw’s length. He isn’t toying with his knife anymore. Guess he figures he can take Alan on without drawing blood…or too much of it.
Alan stumbles back, his phone pressed to his ear. He isn’t quick enough. Crew Cut wrestles him down, forcefully separating my boss from his phone.
Alan lands against a desk, grunting. His eyes are large and fearful as he shoots off the desk and flees for his office. Slamming the door, the lock snaps into place loudly. Crew Cut drops the phone and stamps on it. The screen can’t withhold the pressure of his heavy boot. It cracks, the screen darkening for good.
I struggle in Man-Bun’s thickly muscled arms, realizing I’m truly alone. Alan saves his skin, and though I should be angry, I’m not. He tried. And he failed. And now I’m doomed to whatever these men have planned for me.
Crew Cut strides to Alan’s door and rams his shoulder against the doorjamb.
“Leave it,” Man-Bun calls to him. “We’ve got what we’ve come for.”
I shudder in his hold, understanding he’s referring to me. They’ve come for me, and they have me. Fighting might be the stupidest thing to do, but I’m not prepared to roll over and let them have their way. If this is how I’m meant to go, I’ll make it difficult for them.
“Help!” I scream, burning my throat with the shrill cry.
“Shut her up,” Crew Cut roars, adding with a menacing growl and a loud wince, “before I do. For good.”
Man-Bun gives a throaty shout when I dig my teeth into his hand. My lips are sore and probably bruised, and my voice box is throbbing painfully. But I’m well into survival mode. “Somebody, help me! Please!”
“Let’s get out of here before the cops show.” Crew Cut fishes out his knife and he closes the distance to me. He presses the cool blade to my throat. “I’ll slice you from ear-to-ear if you don’t shut your pretty mouth.”
“Fuck you,” I growl at him.
Man-Bun returns a deep, threatening snarl. He thrusts against my backside in a way I can’t ignore his hard-on grinding over my ass. “Maybe later. We’ve got a long ride after all.” Without giving me a warning, he twirls me around to face him. Giving me no time to claw at his face and beat his big, hard chest, Man-Bun hauls me over his shoulder.
I kick and flail, pounding at his back. I rave like a lunatic—scratch that—like a woman being daringly abducted from her workplace. The blood rushes to my head quick. My drumming heartbeat drowns out their voices and the sound of their boots. Sweat beads at my forehead and at the back of my neck. It contrasts the gooseflesh over my body.
The kitchen’s tiled flooring swims in and out of focus. The men are taking the back entrance, meaning they’ve scoped out the premises, their plan more sinister than I’d given them initial credit.
I close my eyes, slowing my breathing. The fight flees me. It ebbs out of my body much faster than I’d like. The high tide of my adrenaline is gone in a blink, and I’m left panting and clinging desperately to Man-Bun, like he’s my salvation instead of my destruction.
My life doesn’t so much flash before my eyes as it does swing to one image. Cas.
Convinced I’m seeing his ghost, my mind conjuring the one thing I yearn for, I smile silly and raise a hand, reaching out to him.
“Cas…” I trail for a soft sob, my eyes dry, my heart heavier than the last night I saw him. I’m sorry. I can’t bring myself to apologize still. It was hard two months ago, and now it’s impossible. Those two words possess dreaded finality.
I can’t say goodbye to Cas forever.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cas
For the last two months, I’ve convinced myself I blew Jade out of proportion. I put her up on this pedestal as the unattainable, perfect woman—the only woman for me, and time and distance would reveal how wrong I am.
I’m not wrong though.
She’s as perfect as I remember. Maybe more so. I underestimated time. Or perhaps I miscalculated how far gone I was when it came to Jade Dunn. Either way, our separation hasn’t obscured the softly angled face I remember, the silvery voice I used to eagerly look forward to hearing. Even perfect doesn’t capture her as well as it ought to.
My beyond perfect girl is in the arms of another.
I twist from surveying her car. I recognized its make and build, and its license plate is seared into my memory, like the smooth texture of her mouth and the press of her breasts against my chest, and the taste of her sweet pussy on my tongue.
Scowling at the group, I size up the man who’s holding her, and the second guy by his side. The men don’t pay me heed, their steps taking them farther down the empty lot. Other than my Audi an
d Jade’s older Toyota, there are two other vehicles—a black pickup truck and a forest green Beetle. They’re heading for the truck.
“Cas,” Jade calls for me again, her smile as gentle as her voice. She sniffles though, and the sorrow winds through my name.
She has to be upset at my appearance. And why not? Last time we were together, I tossed her out on her ass. A deserved punishment, some might say. Not that anyone else knew. Jade’s immediate, quiet resignation hasn’t been connected to the con job she pulled on me.
I clench my teeth at that fateful night. The angry disappointment and self-loathing has mostly abated. Now and again, it catches me off guard.
It doesn’t help I haven’t seen hide nor beautiful hair of Jade since.
She’s hot. A fucking stunning woman, inside and out. I’d like nothing more than to take on the competition, compare dick size, and challenge them to a dead weight lift. The caveman in me craves punching the guy holding her, ripping her free from him and carrying her back to the hotel with me.
So, why doesn’t she sound happier?
My feet move on their accord, my intuition souring in my stomach. Something isn’t right with this picture, it tells me.
I study her. “Jade,” I say, rolling her name over my tongue, recalling how much pleasure that alone gave me. “We need to talk.” It’s true. We do. I didn’t drive all this way, spend the time before that tracking her new workplace, to have her leave me out in the cold.
The glassy look in her eyes clears.
“Cas?” she speaks my name more urgently. She straightens up, her hands pushing on the back of the dude with the man bun. She widens her eyes, and the small, beautiful smile is wiped away. She opens her mouth, a horrified expression overtaking her features. “They’re kidnapping me!”
It’s all I need to hear to spring into action.
The man trapping her to his shoulder rounds to face me. “Turn the fuck around, and walk away, man.”
His friend doubles back to ensure I get the message, loud and clear. What better way to do that than to pull a weapon? The knife appears in the second guy’s hand like magic. The small blade can still do damage, and he holds it confidently enough to cool my ideas of a fast approach.
I slow down, forcing myself to a standstill. I’m helpless as Jade angles her glance backward. “Help me, Cas! Please!”
Gritting my teeth, I suck in a fortifying breath via my flaring nostrils. Pushing it out, I ask, “What is it you’re after? Money?” It’s always money.
“Nothing you can give us.” The man holding Jade palms her ass and she screeches, wriggling in his clutch, her legs flailing, her fists raining down on his back. He grunts, steadying her, but nowhere close to losing his grip.
It leaves me with very little options when his buddy grabs a fistful of Jade’s curls and he tugs her head up. He rests the tip of his blade behind her ear. Then, as if I can’t grasp his too-obvious threat, he says, “My hand slips, she dies.”
“And don’t think about calling the police,” he adds, the growled warning enough for them to start toward their truck again. Jade is facing me once more. She stretches out her hand. I find my fists clenching, the urge to rush them and risk death for her safety too strong.
My mind blanks is the only way I can explain it.
One second I’m watching them take her from me, and the next my Italian hand leather shoes are eating up the distance, pounding pavement to get to Jade.
The thug with the knife is on me first. He hollers for his friend to “beat it” when he gets in my path, swishing the blade in the air between us. He motions with one hand for me to draw in. “Come closer. My knife is thirsting for blood, asshole.”
Not as much as my fists are hungry to smash that smug smile off your face.
He strikes out with the knife, calling my bluff when I sway near to him. I pivot out of the way, my Marine training and the hours I’ve been keeping in the gym as a civvie coming to me naturally. I grab his arm, finding the pressure point in the inside of his elbow that rips a roar out of him. His hand slackens and the knife slips loose and clatters to the ground. I give it a swift kick and it skids across the pavement, far from his reach.
Not that he’ll be using his dominant hand any time soon. He catches me in the temple as my fist connects with his jaw.
We stumble apart.
The gunshot locks my every muscle. Icy dread dances her bony fingertips over my spine. I’m afraid to glance Jade’s way, fearful to witness any harm coming to her on my watch. Still, I look toward her…relief sweeping through me a second later.
Jade’s fighting off her captor, refusing to enter his truck. My spitfire girl is making this hard for them. Good. Give these bastards hell, babe.
“Don’t move!” The crisp, anxiously-pitched voice is new.
I confront the source of the gunfire. He’s short and slim, his head full of salt-and-pepper hair pointing up in all angles. He has both hands on his handgun, a derringer by the looks of it. Splotches of red break up his wan cheeks. Still, despite how nervy he appears, his hands don’t shake. Little man knows how to hold his gun.
He isn’t pointing it at me either. Though he does give me a sharp glare when I shuffle in place. “Either of you move, and I’ll shoot. I swear I’ll make you eat lead.”
I have to roll my eyes at that hyperbole. So, he knows how to pack his firepower. Clearly he needs help with his tough-guy image. I wouldn’t be telling him. No point in having him train his gun on me. I’m happy where he’s got it fixed.
The thug won’t quit either. He backs from the knife toward the truck and his friend.
Trigger Happy fires off to the side this time. “I said, stop.” He moves then, passing me, training the gun on us both before expanding further to include Jade’s captor. “Release her right now, you Cretin! Raise your hands up where I can see them. I’m a damn good shot, so don’t risk it. Your number is up.”
Punctuating his cheesy statements are police sirens. I sigh, all too happy to get this over with, to get Jade in my arms. No. Not my arms. Near me, for a chat. A very important, professional chat. We’ll be keeping our clothes on for it, too.
With a dark scowl, the guy with the man bun raises his hands and Jade darts from him, seizing her opportunity to flee for safety. She runs…straight for me. I have my arms open at the last second, realizing she doesn’t mean to stop until we’re embracing.
Honeyed jasmine and spiced citrus infiltrate my nose. A hint of soap and faint coffee curls through it all. It’s like she’s never left my side. It brings back that week of memories. They’d kept me going for the last two months, held me off from plunging into the edge of broken-hearted despair.
She moves back too quickly for my liking, lifting her head, peering into my face. “It is you.” The awe shines at me. There’s a wondrous reverence in her voice. She cups my cheek, her smaller, soft palm the cushion to my beard-roughened jaw. “You came for me,” she says.
I’ll take the credit of being her savior so long as she promises to never betray me again.
“Yeah,” I hear how husky my voice has become. It’s all her fault. “It’s me, Jade.” I gaze at her mouth, still as plump and juicy as I remember it. I forget the hell she put my head and heart through; I need to kiss her. My head lowers, my tingling lips seeking hers, my heart thumping, counting out the seconds to landing and making contact.
Then she pinches my short beard hairs.
The zapping shock of pain lurches my head up and back, her hand falling away. “What the fuck?” I absorb what she’s done. She pinched my fucking cheek.
Jade gives her head a shake, stepping from me. She ducks her head, her shyness overwhelming us both. The sirens pierce the air now, loud and insistent. Still, I’m able to catch what Jade says, “I thought you weren’t real.”
I’m about to show her how real I can get, but the first of a trio of police cars peels into the back lot from around the bend of the squat building housing Samson & Sons Auto Sales. Six cops
jump out, all their holsters emptied with guns aimed at anything breathing that won’t bleed blue.
This “shoot first, ask questions later” mentality irks me. As an ex-Marine, I’ve done five tours over my thirteen years of decorated service. I get how easy it can be to rely on a gun, especially when facing off against uncertainty. Nevertheless, I push Jade behind me. At least that way I can take a stray bullet for her.
We hold up our hands as per their instructions.
I glance back, Trigger Happy on his knees, the derringer a meter away from him. Everyone’s cuffed, Jade and I included. She’s more of a victim than me, but I don’t struggle when they slap the shackles on her, too.
It takes some sorting out at the police station. With our statements, and that of Trigger Happy—Jade’s boss as I learn—the three of us are released. The real criminals are kept under lock and key, a court date set, and the notification delivered that our statements and presence might be needed for the judge at a later time.
I don’t tell them there’s no fucking way Jade’s going to face those cowardly bastards again. I’m polite straight through to catching a ride back to the dealership’s lot. As soon as the police car leaves, I ignore Jade’s boss, Alan, and signal for her to follow me. “We need to talk.”
“Hey.” Alan steps in my path. He hides his trembling lip, holding himself taller under my glower. “Just where do you think you’re taking her? She needs to rest. Not be dragged off by the likes of you.”
Likes of me?
I almost agree. It might be dangerous for my restraint to have Jade alone. But it doesn’t change that I need to talk to her though, does it?
“I might be grateful for your save, but I won’t tolerate you standing in the way of my business.” Because the only thing I have planned for Jade is business. I’m not here to rock that beehive, shake loose and infuriate the stinging pain she left in her wake the first time.