BUFF

  “Um... I can, uh, come back,” the man rambles. “If you want me to..."

  Neither Colt nor Becky acknowledges that they hear him. She recognizes the man as one of Colt's brutes; the bigger man with the short beard and long dark hair. His feet move backward before bumping into the hallway wall, staggering in the direction of the front door. “I'll just, uh, get her stuff then."

  “Do that,” Colt mutters, his eyes fixed. They never leave hers, never wander an inch away.

  The interruption spurs Becky's actions, breaking the spell Colt has over her. She doesn’t fight, knowing it’s useless against his strength, but there are other fears besides his physical closeness that scares her.

  “Talk to me," he murmurs.

  And that's it.

  The way he can read her, it's like he can sniff her out and know which button to push to crack the impenetrable wall she’s taken years to forge. When she’s fighting him, the pull to give in to him is easier to ignore. She can argue back and somewhere between their bickering and anger, her feelings will be forgotten. But when his voice gets all soft and warm, like now, like a cloak of heat is being laid over her body she can’t think clearly. Can't respond the way she wants to.

  Ten seconds ago he looked like he wanted to bite her head off. Now he’s sucking all her strength away with just one melting plea.

  “Why is he here?” She tugs at his hold and startles when he releases her, making her trip a step back.

  “Because I asked him—don't change the subject."

  Using her clumsiness to her advantage Becky slides farther away, leaning her hip onto the stove and fails miserably with acting cool. She switches the stove off. The eggs are ruined. Dumping the pan in the sink, Becky runs it under the hot water.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she replies, “I'm not."

  “Don't lie."

  Slicing the knob down she grabs the towel next to the sink and begins scrubbing her hands. “Lying is one of your specialties so don't stand there and talk to me about it."

  Unhindered by the words that are clearly delivered to wound, Colt continues. “Keeping things secret is part of my job. Lying to yourself isn’t yours.” He waits until she looks up and makes some sort of eye contact with him. "What you're doing right now is different. You're only hurting yourself."

  “Thanks,” she replies. “But that's a risk I'll take if my only option is you."

  “You don't trust me."

  “No I don't.”

  “Fine.” His voice echoes hollow between them. “I'm sorry, Becky… for the pain I've caused you."

  Ignoring the spark of an ache she thinks she sees flash in his cold blue eyes she decides to try her odds. “Does that mean I can go home now? I... miss my family."

  Colt nods. “As soon as it can be arranged you'll be free of this… of me."

  “Okay.” She refuses to make eye contact even though his body and hard glare is demanding her attention.

  “Good."

  Her body feels tight; she needs space. “I’m tired. Think I'll get some rest."

  Colt wavers a beat then speaks, “Wait."

  The bearded man enters again, with two suitcases in each hand and two small bags crammed under his arms. He doesn’t stop for a detour of the kitchen again. Becky isn’t sure where he goes but he never returns.

  “I'm leaving," Colt says.

  She pauses, squinting her eyes. “Leaving?"

  “Yeah.” He scratches at the middle of his chest, leaving a red mark. His topless body had unnerved her the first time she saw him, but now it's making her entire body quiver. Every inch of him is lean and muscled. He exudes raw strength and it makes her feel breathless. “I have to make an appearance. With Kulich."

  Remembering his gunshot wound her eyes dart to his side. “Oh." She can’t help but lower her gaze to the sexy V-lines that trail to his...

  He follows her gaze. “Shouldn't be more than a few days."

  Her stare immediately jumps to his face, her skin blazing hot. “So, I'll be here with…"

  “Jenson. He's a good guy, he'll take care of you."

  “What if something goes wrong?"

  For a moment she wants him to reassure her, but instead he steps closer and says, “It won’t. Trust m—” He sighs, closing his eyes and fisting his hand at his side. “I'll make this right, okay?"

  “Okay.” She wipes her hands down her jeans. “Is that it?"

  “No.” He comes forward, cornering her between the sink and the stove. “Listen to what Jenson says. He reports back to me so if you get out of hand—”

  “I get it." Her chin rises, along with the temperature in her face.

  “If you need anything—"

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “That's not the point.” He pins her with a hard glare. "Becky."

  “I will,” she vows, her voice rising. When he doesn’t appear pacified she gathers all the leftover strength she has and reciprocates his look. “I promise."

  He abandons eye contact first this time, bowing his head to the side, seemingly satisfied. “Okay."

  He begins to walk away, his shoulders slightly slump and before she can restrain herself she’s calling out his name, “Colt?” she says, on a whispery gasp.

  He doesn’t turn but he stops. “Yeah?"

  “Are you…” She searches for words that her brain is in short supply of. “Does your side still hurt?"

  He slides her a sideways glance. The profile of his face in that moment is stunning and she has to stifle a shiver. His reaction is impervious as he scrutinizes her.

  “No,” he finally replies, with a half smile. When his eyes meet hers again they are soft but stern in their icy-blue warning. “Be careful."

  The small rise of panic that enters from his subtle cautioning is not for herself.

  But for him.

  “You too."

  The realization alone frightens her beyond explanation but there is nothing she can do. She is helpless, out of her league, and nothing she is doing or saying makes any sense.

  She’s watching the man who has smashed her life into pieces, leave. Knowing she isn’t going to see him she waits for the elation, for the joy to overcome her. But when all she experiences is an empty, sad feeling in the pit of her stomach she decides it's time to stop. Stop thinking, stop pretending to figure out what’s going on in her wacky brain. These circumstances don't define who she is or what she feels. She just has to bide her time, get through this and then everything will go back to normal.

  The way it should be.

  Becky finds the soaking pan in the drain board and flips it between her hands.

  Eggs are a good start.

  * * *

  THE PENTHOUSE is barely lit when Colt enters.

  There are a few candles and a dwindling fire that appears ready to die out when he steps inside, closing the door behind him. When he begins to proceed farther into the room he hears something crunch underneath his boots. He can’t make out what it is, but it looks like the glass vase that usually sits on the fireplace mantle.

  Moving deeper into the room, the dim lighting finally gives him some use. His eyes scan the couch and find Kulich slumped over, partially sitting, partially lying down with three naked girls. Cocaine litters the glass table in front of them. Colt sighs into the darkness.

  Throwing his leather jacket onto the desk behind him Colt stands, taking in the not-so-unfamiliar setting and shakes his head.

  He’s so fucking beat right now. All he wants to do is check in, get a good eight hours of sleep, if his body will let him, and get some normalcy back into his life. Maybe even get a few hours of boxing in, get drunk, get laid—anything to make him feel like the man he was before.

  Before… her.

  He makes his way over to the wall, flips the switch on. The stark arrival of light makes his eyes squint as they travel back to the couch. He watches, waiting, knowing any second his boss is going to start murmuring curses for being forced to join the l
iving. Kulich’s body stirs for a few minutes before he slowly drags his body up from its sleeping position, pushing two of the girls away from him. Rubbing his eyes, Kulich yawns, arching his back. It takes several more seconds before he looks lucid enough to recognize his surroundings to even realize Colt is there.

  His eyes are drooped, three layers of lines bagged with tiredness. His hair is scruffy and wild on his face and hair. His skin is pale and off-colored like he hasn’t seen sunlight in days.

  “Colt,” Kulich says, in a rough voice.

  Forcing his feet to walk toward the older man Colt gives him a tight smile. “Hey."

  "What took you so long, man? I know you like to get some air but I've been dying here. Even got you some pussy to celebrate now that fucker is dead.” Kulich rubs the thigh on the naked brunette next to him, leaning back into the seat, taking a greedy breath like it's his first in days.

  “Had things that needed done. And I'm not the mood.”

  Kulich eyes him. "Lady's man Colt fucking Lawson not in the mood? Shit. Thought I'd never see the day."

  "We need to talk." Colt looks over at the girls who are taking another hit off the table.

  "You sure now?" Kulich says. He clutches the brunette’s chin in his hand and yanks her toward his hairy chest with a grin. She winces in pain but makes sure to look like she’s loving every second of it. "This one here fucking lives for sucking dick," Kulich chuckles. "Is into all kinds of kinky shit, aren’t you, babe?" The girl nods, licking her lips at Colt.

  Colt sighs quietly. "Maybe later, okay?"

  "Upstairs. Now," he orders the girls who obey immediately. Kulich eyes the nearly dead fire, shaking his head. “You all right? I mean after everything."

  “Part of the job,” Colt mumbles.

  “'Part of the job’,” Kulich mimics. “Shut up. You know that's fucking bullshit." Colt tenses. “I know you, man. I know you better than you know fucking yourself. You don't like to feel because it fucking complicates things."

  Colt shrugs. “Yeah, so?"

  “But it's not that you can't feel.” Kulich waves his hand in the air, brushing the grey hair from his eyes. "You're just better at controlling your emotions than everybody else. You got heart, Colt, I’ve seen it. You get it from your mother. God bless her beautiful fucking soul."

  Colt feels his muscles tighten but continues staring into the fireplace, a spark of a flame holding his sole attention. He doesn't want to think about his mother. Not right now. Not while Kulich is watching his every move. Colt needs to hold strong.

  “Admit it. That girl got to you."

  Colt eyes him. “Vladimir."

  “C'mon, I've never seen that before. I mean you're a fucking heartless bastard most of the time. You treat woman like dog shit. You're probably the most selfish guy in the world besides me of course."

  “Maybe.”

  “'Maybe' he says,” Kulich grumbles, chuckling under his breath. “You fuck her?" Kulich smirks as Colt restrains the edges of his features from hardening. “You did, didn’t you? You dog. You fucked her! Oh, man... Gotta hand it to you, Colt, I knew you were hard-up and all but you could've at least waited till you got home. I'm sure those bitches upstairs would've drained your balls, no problem. Fuck, man, I wish I was you now. Shoulda fucked her myself in front of that asshole Spencer. Jesus fucking Christ, the ass on that girl must’ve been so tight. Probably begging for cock, the stupid cunt.”

  Kulich is testing him. When it comes to matters of the heart, Kulich is downright psychologically crafty. Testing. Always testing. He knows the way to a man's motives is through his mind. How he thinks, speaks, approaches every subject, these subtleties are what tell a person everything they need to know about the other. The wheels inside Kulich's head are always turning. Colt bets even in sleep.

  The urge to rip Kulich’s head off for his remarks against Becky makes his bones set on fire with anger. But he remains indifferent on the outside, brushing off his jeans.

  “Let me get you something to eat," Colt offers, hoping the subject of Becky is closed once and for all. He doesn’t want to do something he’ll regret.

  Head falling back onto the couch, Kulich sighs harshly. “Hey, as long as you enjoyed yourself, Colt."

  Colt heads toward the kitchen. "Go take a shower."

  It takes a couple of seconds but Kulich gets up. “You're back for good, right?"

  Pausing in the threshold of the two rooms, Colt turns. “No.”

  Kulich's easy manner quickly disintegrates. "The fuck you mean 'no'?"

  “I'm taking off for a while—not too long."

  “Colt,” he spits his name out like a curse, “need you with me, man."

  Ignoring his boss's usual rise of anger, Colt returns his angry words with his own placated ones. “It's not for good. Just for a few weeks."

  “Don't like it,” he bluntly responds, walking around his leather couch. “The guys know about this?"

  “They got nothing to do with this."

  “Luis!” Kulich bellows.

  Luis comes charging down the stairs still buttoning up his jeans, his shirt still open. “Yeah, Boss.” Luis skitters an anxious look between the two men.

  “You know about this? About this fucker leaving?”

  Colt comes between the two, his back to Luis. “Luis's got nothing to do with this."

  “Answer the question!” Kulich's black glare centers on Luis. “Did you know—”

  “N-No, sir. Not at all.” Luis’s voice cracks. “C-Colt and I don't talk about things that're none of my business."

  “Is that right?” Kulich moves closer.

  “Vladimir.” Colt places a hand on Kulich's shoulder when he sees him step closer. “Leave him alone."

  Kulich's hands come up, his mood shifting again, his face lighting up as if he's been caught-off-guard. “You're always are a sucker for bitches."

  Colt doesn’t return his sentiment, turning his head halfway. “Leave, Luis."

  Grabbing his jacket Luis heads out the front door without another word. Colt and Kulich continue to stare at one another, neither of them backing down.

  Colt doesn’t waste time hedging around Kulich's unpredictable mood. “What's wrong with you?"

  “I could ask you the same. When did you become Luis's hero?"

  Colt doesn’t like his loyalty being questioned from anyone, but he also has to consider the situation. When Kulich acts like this, anything, including his loyalty, is up for question.

  “He's done nothing wrong."

  “Luis's a little bitch," Kulich scoffs. "I was just playing around."

  Staring the man down, Colt replies, "Just leave it be."

  “Whatever." Kulich backs away, nearing the stairs. "Think I'll take a shower with the girls." Nodding, Colt continues to watch him. “Make my steak raw, okay? I wanna see it bleed."

  “Yeah."

  Colt finds his way to the kitchen just as Kulich pauses in the middle of the grand staircase. He eyes Colt as though the wheels in his head are turning. Finally he vanishes from view.

  Yeah, Colt is walking on thin ice.

  Very thin ice.

  * * *

  THIS WAS SUPPOSED to be easy. In and out. Erase the problem and wipe away the trail of evidence into nonexistence.

  But this one case is fucking everything up. Colt is…

  The shrill of the phone cracks like a whip in the empty room and Kulich doesn’t even wait for the first ring to finish. “Yeah?"

  “Boss, it's Gino. Just got back from Wentworth Creek, we're on our way back."

  “So what've you found?” Kulich asks, peering out the window, his form the only presence and light in the room.

  “Well, we tapped into the main database of the warehouse, made a duplicate of Mr. Appleton’s secretary’s computer memory… She, uh, found Colt's private files—pictures."

  Kulich bites down, feeling a convulsion of rage steam up in his body, but he remains calm in his delivery. “Hmm. Anything else?"


  “Nothing except…"

  “What?” he spits out, pushing his fisted hand into his pant pockets.

  “Well, while we accessed the memory, a bill came up for a leased minivan under the name Douglas Whitemore. Purchased and received the same week as the files were. The description of the minivan isn’t familiar to anyone when we asked around but get this—it's the same car the cops put out an APB on after the Appletons went missing. Cops found the van two days later in Coastbourne somewhere. We got a hold of the police files and it's identical in license plate and everything to the car seen in front of the Appleton's house the morning they disappeared."

  “Really?” Kulich drawls, cupping his chin. “What’d you think that means?"

  “Dunno, Boss… Maybe they're up to something."

  “Or,” Kulich adds, his voice a deep shake, “maybe someone tipped them off."

  There is a long pause before Gino continues, “What'd you want us to do?"

  “Get rid of it all. Go to his secretary’s house—you know the rest,” Kulich orders, mechanically, his monotone voice not deviating for a second. "Wait. Did you say the van was in Coastbourne?"

  "Yeah."

  "That's near Aston, right?"

  "Good few hours from there, yeah. Why?"

  "Colt has a place in Aston...” He sighs, shaking his head, deep in thought.

  “Boss?”

  “Stay out of sight for a couple of days. Things are gonna go down. Need clearance. If shit goes down, I'll call."

  He clicks the phone off before waiting for Gino's response and presses speed-dial three.

  “Roman."

  "Find anything?"

  "Boss. You ain't gonna fucking believe what I found out."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “COME ON.” HER LIPS SLIDE the side of his neck. They're smooth and cool; they'll be very workable under his mouth.

  "Where's my beer?” he speaks into the flaming crown of her hair.

  The minute he’d strutted into the back entrance she’d taken no time in cornering him. He doesn’t need a guess to figure out why. Her breath rattles, dipping and quivering against his skin. Her zealousness with him is distracting, especially in the way she paws at him in the dark corner of the waiting room. Her body snakes up against his, stretching like a cat begging to be pet.