What was she supposed to do with this information? How was she supposed to respond? Of course she was shocked, she’d just seen him last night and their parting words had been harsh. She held no affection for the guy and felt guilty she wasn’t more grieved by the news. It was sad to hear that a human life had been lost, but other than the passing empathy she’d have for any stranger, she wasn’t overly broken up about it as it seemed these two officers carefully eyeing her expected her to be. They glanced more than once at her arm, then exchanged questioning looks.
A hand gently took her bicep, and she winced against the pain. Glancing down, she saw dark purple bruises poking out above Tate’s hand that no doubt covered the worst of it. But it was too late. By the expressions on the officers’ faces, they’d already seen her arm. She looked up to see Tate guiding her a step back. The expression on his face was unreadable, except for the small furrow of his brows. “Come on. Let them inside.”
Numbly, she moved back, and the officers entered. She guided them to the kitchen and offered them a cup of coffee, which they both declined. With a steaming mug in her hand, she sat across from them and beside Tate, whose displeasure seemed to grow by the second.
The older of the two officers began to speak. “Please tell us the nature of your relationship with Mr. Mathis.”
“We were engaged, I am told. A few months ago, I had an accident and have since lost my memory. I have tried to end things with him on several occasions, but he hasn’t taken the breakup well. Why do you ask?”
“Before this can be ruled as an accident, an investigation must be done, Ms. Norton. We’ve found some evidence that could be…questionable. We just need to ask you a few questions. We’ll be brief, ma’am.”
“What do you mean by ‘questionable’? Are you saying you think someone killed him?”
“Possibly.” Tate replied before the officers could answer.
She shot him a concerning glance. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it,” he grouched. “But someone did. Why else would the police be questioning you?”
“Can you tell us where you were last night and what happened between you two?” The larger of the two officers asked.
“Nothing happened.”
“Something happened. Witnesses reported seeing the two of you together. How did you get those bruises on your arm, Ms. Norton?”
Shit… “Mitch grabbed me,” she confessed, posting her elbows on the table and scrubbing her face with her hands. She didn’t have to be a detective to know how bad this looked. “But I didn’t do anything. He saw me at the bar and he wanted to talk. I didn’t. He was drunk, as usual. He grabbed my arm and pulled me off my stool. That’s how it got bruised.”
Tate hissed a curse beside her and for a moment, she was grateful for the police presence so she wouldn’t have to weather Tate’s I-told-you-so glower.
“Someone saw us arguing and he intervened. I left right after that, and found my friend, Ashley. Then we went home.”
“Any idea who the guy was that intervened?”
How could she answer that? “No.”
Tate crossed his arms over his chest, looking wholly unconvinced, his surly scowl turning downright livid.
The officers stood, and the younger one reached into his pocket, handing her his card. “That’s really all for now, Ms. Norton. Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch. Again, we’re sorry for your loss. If you think of anything else…”
“I’ll be sure to let you know,” she offered.
Olivia walked the officers to the door. A knot of dread fisted in her gut as she re-entered the kitchen, preparing to face what would surely be an unhappy Tate. “Look, I know what you’re going to say—”
A dark brow cocked over his violet eyes that were throwing off amethyst sparks like an impending electrical storm. “Oh, I doubt that,” he cut in, leaping to his feet. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping nose to chest. She cranked her head back, meeting his irate glare. “Tell me, Olivia, are you trying to get yourself killed? I’ve been more than respectful of your free will and have gone beyond my limit of patience with you. I will no longer sit by and wait for you to accept me as your guardian. From now on, we’re doing this my way.”
His way…? Why did that declaration sound so ominous? “What does that mean?” she snapped defensively.
“It means I’m returning to court to petition your free will be revoked.”
She gasped in total and utter outrage. “You can’t do that!”
“If it means keeping you alive, then I most certainly will try!”
“Please, don’t do this!” She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to dissuade him. By the stubborn tilt of his chin and his unwavering stare, it was clear his mind was made up.
“You’re not giving me any choice!” he barked with a surprising amount of bite. “Who was the man at the club last night, Olivia? Who stepped up to do my job?”
Was his wounded pride adding insult to injury? His demand for answers was a test, and one she’d fail. Olivia wasn’t sure why she held back Haden’s name—stayed from her lips in a muted confession. At the thought of the half-breed, fear warred with intrigue. Whether she liked the idea or not, she needed him. He was rebellious and just careless enough to tell her the truth when others would hide it from her under the pretense of “her own good.” But Haden wasn’t concerned about her welfare, as long as she lived long enough to get him to the stone, and that was in her favor as much as to her detriment.
With Tate throwing around threats she knew were not idle, the angel was proving to be just as big a threat as the surly Nephilim—perhaps more. At least Haden wasn’t proposing to take her free will from her. She knew where she stood with the Nephilim and exactly what he wanted from her—Immanuel’s Stone.
“Not going to tell me, are you?” he challenged. “Look, I’m not trying to govern you, Olivia—”
“Well, it sure as hell feels like it. If you do this to me…if you take away my free will, then you’re no better than Liam. Why don’t you just take the rest of my memories while you’re at it and then I can be a mindless little puppet for you to control. I bet I’ll even dance for you and everything.”
With a snarled oath, Tate disappeared. Whether he blocked her sight or truly left, she couldn’t know. Standing alone in her kitchen, Olivia felt like the tenuous world she’d worked so hard to re-erect over the past few months was about to come crumbling down on her—again.
Chapter Nine
Olivia wasn’t sure how long she sat there crying her eyes out in hopeless frustration. But after repeated shouts of a summons, Tate hadn’t come back. Either he couldn’t hear her, or he was ignoring her, and neither boded well for this stalemate. Unable to stand the silence another moment, she stormed the stairs, cursing him a blue streak on the off chance he hadn’t left to carry through with his threat. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she grabbed her duffle bag, a pair of socks and hiking boots from the closet, and headed back down. She paused at the door to slip on a pair of flip-flops before marching to the car and tossing her duffle in the passenger seat.
The parking lot of the State Park trails was empty when she arrived. Olivia walked over to a picnic bench and seated herself on the table. Setting her boots on the seat, she took a moment to close her eyes and tipped her face to the sun, letting the rays warm her tear-stained cheeks. A smattering of billowy white clouds floated by, offering a refreshing combination of sun and shade. It was still early—warm, but not too hot. A perfect day to go for a hike. Hopefully the sun would burn off her hangover. Who knew how this day would end. She best get moving while she still had the freedom to do so.
Olivia was bent over, lacing up her last boot, while sniffing her still running nose. The crunch of pea gravel sounded behind her, prickling her senses to attention, unease creeping up her spine. The same feeling she always got whenever—
“Rough morning?”
She whipped her head around to look over her shoulder and sc
owled, snorting a less than ladylike response. Hastily, she swiped at her eyes before Haden could walk around the bench and see her face.
“You could say that,” she replied coolly, crisscrossing her laces through the eyelets and double knotting the bow of her boot.
He didn’t say anything as he rounded the corner, but the burning heat of his gaze never left her. He crossed in front of her, moving soundlessly. As he came beside her, she knew the only reason she’d heard him approach was because he’d wanted her aware of his presence. Why? So as not to frighten her? Doubtful the thoughtful consideration had ever crossed his mind.
His booted foot stepped onto the bench seat, the table protesting under the added weight as he sat beside her. Haden didn’t speak, letting the silence stretch awkwardly between them. After a few minutes, he finally offered up, “Hung-over, huh…” It wasn’t a question.
“Among other things.” She couldn’t hide the unease in her voice.
“Your arm looks like hell.”
She glanced up to see him scowling at the black and blue bruises.
“Does it hurt?”
He reached out and gently drew the back of his fingers over her discolored skin. She flinched beneath his touch, expecting pain but finding none. A flutter of awareness centered in her gut. Who would have thought him capable of such…tenderness? Unable to find her words to voice a response, she looked away, not wanting him to see how much he affected her. An arcane prickle of awareness shivered up her flesh, leaving her torn between pulling away and allowing the brief moment of comfort from an unlikely giver.
“Fucking Mitch…” he growled under his breath.
“He’s dead, you know.” The apathetic response tumbled from her lips before she could bite it back. Schooling her features, she looked up, meeting an unapologetic sea-green stare.
“Good riddance.”
“Did you kill him?”
Haden gave a negligent shrug. “What if I did?”
Was this a confession or just a sick, twisted way of toying with her? “Why would you do that?”
He hopped off the table and made a few pacing passes in front of her before stopping to face her. “My reasons are my own, and I owe you no explanations, Olivia. Unfortunately, your shitter of a day is about to get worse. I can no longer wait for your MIA boyfriend to return, which means you and I are going to be taking a little road trip.”
Dread settled into her bones like a dead weight. “You’re crazy. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His low throaty chuckle said otherwise. “You say that as if you believe you actually have a choice. The only choice you have in this matter is whether you’re coming with me conscious or unconscious.”
She stared at him in utter shock. How could he be so caring one minute and so cold-blooded the next? This wasn’t happening…
“Well?” he snapped impatiently, seeming anxious to be underway now that he’d declared himself. “What’s it going to be?”
She wasn’t certain what compelled her to say it. Perhaps she didn’t believe he’d actually do it. Feeling helpless and frustrated, she crossed the line into reckless and called his bluff. Looking him right in those steely eyes, she said, “Unconscious.”
His scowl darkened at her answer. Taking a step closer, he replied coldly, “Have it your way then.” No sooner had the words left his mouth, that she caught an abrupt movement from the corner of her eye. His arm snaked around her neck, swift as a striking viper, and he pulled her tight against his chest. One hand clamped tightly over her mouth as something hard crashed against her temple. An instant of pain, then everything slowly went black. His breath was warm, nearly as warm as his dark rumbling voice when he whispered regretfully against her ear, “Believe it or not, I wish you would have picked the alternative.”
Olivia stirred, the movement sending a wave of pain rocketing through her head. She moaned softly, reaching up to touch her throbbing temple. Aged mattress springs squeaked beneath her in protest as she rolled to her side. And that was the moment she realized she wasn’t lying in her bed.
Disorientation clouded her senses. She tried to focus her dull thoughts, pushing past the pain pounding inside her head as she struggled to recall her last memories. What the hell happened? Where was she?
A rustle of movement across the room announced she was not alone. A surge of adrenaline flooded her veins, and she opened her eyes, trying to focus them on the shadowy figure standing in the corner. He moved forward, stepping into the ambient light streaking across the middle of the room. Her startled gasp froze in her lungs as the sight of Haden sent everything rushing back with startling clarity.
“I can’t believe you hit me!” It bemused her to realize her feelings were hurt more than her head.
Haden looked down at her and she steeled herself against his flat, unapologetic stare. “I am regretful about that. But in my defense, you did tell me you wanted to be unconscious.”
The emotionless apathy in his voice was wholly unconvincing that he regretted a damn thing. In fact, she was certain that, given the chance, he’d do it again.
“I only said that because I didn’t believe you’d actually do it!”
“Well, you should say what you mean, Olivia. I don’t speak Woman.”
“Fine. You’re a dick. Is that clear enough for you?”
His soft chuckle surprised her.
“I’m glad you find my pain so amusing. What time is it, anyway? And where are we?”
Haden turned away from her and walked over to the dresser. “It’s late. And I think you know where we’re going.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it beside the lamp, leaving him clad in nothing more than a pair of low-slung jeans.
When he unfastened the buckle of his belt and pulled it free of the loops, she knew a moment of true terror. “If you’re going to rape me, I’d prefer it if you knocked me out again,” she snapped, determined to show him none of the fear that was threatening to swallow her whole.
His pale green eyes locked on her, a mixture of amusement and agitation crossing his face. Wordlessly, he ambled over to the vacant side of the bed, each step mounting her panic. Stopping beside the mattress, he replied, “I have no intention of raping you, Olivia. I have never taken from a woman that which was not willingly given, and I’m not about to start now.”
Oh thank God, her abductor had a conscience. Just when she thought she was starting to get him puzzled out.
“Don’t think for one second that I’ve forgotten who you belong to.”
As Haden sat on the bed, thankfully with his jeans still on, she didn’t hesitate to point out the obvious. “But you kissed me last night.” That little stunt he’d pulled had not been willing on her part and she wanted there to be no misconception of that fact.
Haden slid under the covers and stretched out beside her. Propping one hand behind his head for added support, he leaned against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, every now and then, even a stray dog will piss in another’s territory.”
“That’s eloquent,” she replied sarcastically.
“That’s the truth. Now give me your hand. I want to get some sleep.”
“What?” She jerked upright, the sudden movement sending a wave of dizziness washing over her. She lay back before she fell, moaning a nasty curse under her breath.
“Give me your hand,” he repeated, ignoring her petition that he rot in hell. “I’m not an angel, Olivia. I need to rest. And I don’t want you trying to sneak out of here.”
Without giving her a chance to comply, he reached over and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers in between hers, holding it firmly. “I’m a light sleeper, so don’t even try it,” he warned, closing his eyes and settling in to sleep.
Seconds ticked by as she lay there staring at him—waiting…for what, she didn’t know, but her fight or flight instinct was begging her to get the hell out of here.
“Relax!”
Olivia jumped at his barked command, biting ba
ck a startled yelp. “Yelling at me isn’t going to help.”
“I can’t rest with your pulse hammering against my wrist, Olivia.”
“Well, I’m sorry.” She really wasn’t. “You’re the one insisting on touching me,” she pointed out. As much as she detested the idea of sharing a bed with him, the thought of sharing a bed with him while he remained awake was even more deplorable. Willing her clamoring pulse to calm, she took a few slow, deep breaths.
Unable to look away for fear the viper would strike, she stared at Haden lying beside her, studying the sharp cuts of his angular features. His square jaw, that aquiline nose…even at rest his face, albeit she had to admit was handsome, held a measure of hard lethality. What surprised her was his mouth. When not caged in a cruel sneer or compressed with anger or impatience, it was actually quite striking. For the briefest moment, she wondered what he’d look like if he actually smiled. Not the teeth baring snarl he rarely gave, but an earnest, unguarded smile.
She scolded herself at the track her thoughts were taking. Why did she try so hard to find humanity in this monster? Perhaps in that thread of commonality, she hoped to find mercy. Something—anything—to give her hope she wasn’t going to die. No, she wouldn’t be fooled into trying to find something that wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be deceived by the fullness of his lips, the softness of his mouth, for she knew how easily they could disappear and the cruelness would return, thinning his lips, tightening his jaw…
Feeling completely helpless, tethered to this heartless monster, tears of frustration stung her eyes. “Liam’s not going to come,” she whispered in a last-ditch effort to convince her abductor this was all in vain.
She didn’t expect him to answer, and was surprised by the confident rumble of his low voice that held a detectable note of fatigue. “He’ll come.” Eyes still closed, he remained unmoving, as if he were too exhausted to expend the effort. He lay beside her, looking completely relaxed and…content?
The Redemption Series Page 78