Cole (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

  I’m going to do this. One kiss. One test.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” He turns his face to mine, his gaze gentle. “You seem different tonight.”

  “Yeah…” I nod. “I’m super.”

  Super?

  Fuck me. Who the hell is this ditsy airhead and where did the Bureau bitch rush off to?

  I’m not flighty or meek.

  I’ve made fearless criminals cry with subtle threats and intimidation. At least, I used to. Now those moments seem like a lifetime ago.

  “Super?” He quirks a brow. “Maybe you should lay off the—”

  My cell buzzes from my jeans pocket, the vibration sinking into my pelvis. For a moment, it feels like a sign. I’m just not sure what kind—affirmation or a blinding veto.

  The vibration doesn’t stop. The buzz, buzz, buzz adds to the awkwardness.

  He grins. “Are you going to answer that?”

  “Should I?” I pause.

  He raises a brow and shrugs, the heat returning to his eyes.

  It’s daunting. The chemistry is all off.

  “Just give me a sec.” I pull out my phone, suddenly appreciating the disturbance, only to have my pulse stop at the name on the screen.

  The Devil.

  My heart shoots to my throat, choking me.

  All those flames I’d yearned for with Easton—all the thrill and chemistry—engulf me.

  “Who is it?” he murmurs.

  I reject the call and shove the cell into my pocket. “Nobody.”

  Nobody I’m going to continue fixating on.

  Nobody I can succumb to.

  I settle back into the sofa, my pulse taking long moments to find its normal rhythm while I stare blankly at the television.

  Did I just conjure a phone call to get out of moving on? Or did Cole perfectly time the interruption at the very moment I was trying to expunge him from my life, like a freaky coincidence?

  No, not a coincidence. A succinctly scheduled intrusion.

  Has that fucker bugged my apartment?

  I shove to my feet, my eagle eyes frantically scanning my furnishings. If there’s a camera in here, I’ll run him down in my car and reverse a couple of times. I’ll shoot and dismember and mutilate.

  “What is it?” Easton sits forward. “Who was it?”

  “Nothing… Nobody.” I rush for the television cabinet and run my fingers over the back of the screen, then the nearby lamp, and the curtains.

  My cell vibrates again, the ongoing buzz announcing another call.

  I snatch for the device, The Devil taunting me again.

  “What’s going on?” Easton pushes from the sofa, his gentle steps approaching. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  The wildfire continues to overwhelm me in scorching flames. Head to foot. Organs to nerves.

  Even with the threat of Cole yet again breaching my privacy, my body awakens at the mere thought of him being in my home. Touching my things. Paying me attention.

  Not Stockholm syndrome, my ass.

  If this doesn’t scream certifiable, what does?

  “Anissa?” Easton stops at my side as the call ends. “Why is he calling you?”

  I keep my gaze locked on the cell, asking myself the same question.

  I didn’t speak much to Cole last night. I couldn’t. We weren’t alone. There were only a few barbed words to fill the silence before I left Penny in his capable hands. But there’d been unfinished business between us. There has been since Greece—I’ve just refused to let him close enough to carry on the madness.

  One hurdle at a time, please, Satan.

  “It’s probably nothing.” I guide a stray strand of hair behind my ear and nod to myself. “He probably wants to give me an update on what happened last night.”

  “What do you mean, last night?” Easton’s voice thickens with tension. “What happened?”

  I sidestep, moving around him to walk to the kitchen. “There was an incident with a mutual contact. I got to the scene before he did.”

  “You got to the scene?” He enunciates the words slowly. “You saw him? Is that why you’re an emotional wreck today?”

  “I’m not a wreck.” I trudge to the fridge, pull open the door, and grab another beer. “I’m tired. That’s all.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re showing the same crazy upheaval from a few weeks ago. And yet again, he’s the cause.” He stalks toward me, holding out a hand. “Give me the cell and I’ll block his number.”

  “No.” My denial is too fast. Too defensive. I can’t help it. “I can handle this on my own.”

  “Like hell you can. You’re not sleeping. Not exercising. Not working. Pretty soon the Bureau is going to write you off completely, then you won’t have a job to return to. All for what?” He scans me with pained eyes. “What did he do to you, Nis?”

  Oh, God. That nickname is foul on his lips.

  An abomination.

  Cole was the first person to ever call me Nis, Nissa, and even Nissie. I’d been his little fox, too. Yet the same endearment from a friend sounds sacrilegious.

  “You know what he did,” I lie. “He humiliated me. He made me his alibi when his father escaped custody.”

  “The time for bullshitting is over. We both know there’s more to it than that. You disappeared for days. You fell off the face of the fucking planet and returned a different person.”

  I did.

  Cole changed me.

  “I—”

  My cell vibrates again, this time short and sharp with a text.

  The Devil: We need to speak. Now.

  I grimace, wanting to comply with every breath and loath to do it at the same time.

  “I’m turning it off.” I press the power button and hold up the device for Easton to see. “I’m ignoring him.” I turn away, placing the cell on the counter, my stomach resting against the cool laminate as a jittery discomfort eats away at me.

  I want those phone calls. I crave more texts. Everything inside me screams for Cole’s attention but I have to deny myself.

  I grab my beer, twist off the cap, and down half the contents before gasping for air.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?” Easton comes up behind me. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid.” I take another gulp, eager for more liquid to douse Cole’s flames while the hair on the back of my neck rises.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Did he scare you?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Are you searching for retribution?”

  I sigh, unsure of my answer.

  I want so many things from Cole—answers being my most prominent wish. It kills me to have no understanding of how I went from hating a man to willingly sleeping with him within the space of days.

  I became lost in a murderer. And it wasn’t as if he hid his venom behind that wickedly handsome face of his. He took every opportunity to show me the demon living within. He exposed me to his deepest, darkest depths, and still, I became entranced.

  Fucking Stockholm.

  “I can help you.” Easton closes in behind me, his hands sliding over my shoulders, his fingers massaging softly. “We can take him down together.”

  I flinch. Tense.

  Taking down Cole had been the driving force that pulled me into this mess in the first place. I’d wanted nothing more than to see him behind bars. Now all I can think of is seeing him between silk sheets.

  “No.” I place my beer on the counter and turn to face him, his large frame looming over me, his hands falling to his sides. “I just want to forget. Okay?” I force a smile, pretending it’s all sunshine and optimism in this fucked up head of mine. “I’m going to take this last week off work and really pull myself together. Once I get back into my old routine I’ll be fine.”

  “Is it this place?” He raises a brow, not backing out of my personal space. “Do you feel safe staying here on your own?”

  I know where he’s going
with this, just like I’ve known what all the lingering stares and constant touches mean. He wants to stay. To spend the night. Again.

  “I’m fine. Really.” I reclaim my beer and slide out from in front of him, leading the way to the sofa. “And I appreciate everything you’re trying to do, but I don’t need saving.”

  I slump back onto my seat, ignoring his approach as he comes to take up the vacant space at my side. I increase the volume on the television, hopefully giving a glaring indication I’m finished with this conversation, and attempt to relax.

  One muscle at a time.

  One breath.

  We don’t talk for long moments. I use the lull to think long and hard about my situation.

  Cole is my enemy. A manipulative predator who successfully brainwashed me into psychosis.

  Easton is my partner. A protective, caring friend, who hasn’t grown tired of my constant PMS-on-steroids personality.

  He’s safe.

  He’s trustworthy.

  He’s…not Cole.

  And that’s a good thing. It has to be a good thing.

  Any forward momentum with him will drag me further away from where I shouldn’t dwell.

  I lean over, placing my bottle on the coffee table and settle back into the sofa. When his arm maneuvers from his side to wrap around my shoulders, I fight the need to move away and instead snuggle closer.

  I rest my head into him. I breathe in the aftershave that’s remarkably different from—

  No. I’m not thinking about the devil anymore. Or the way he smelled. Or tasted. I have to cast every disillusioned thought from my brain.

  I pull back slightly and turn to my friend, my heart hammering as our gazes collide. It’s an all-or-nothing moment. Sink or swim. Fight or flight.

  My insides squeeze. My pulse stutters.

  I lick my lips and his attention narrows on my mouth.

  I’m torn in a million different directions, the static of confusion blaring in my ears.

  I shut it all down—the thoughts, the sensations, the warnings—and lean in, placing my lips on his.

  3

  Anissa

  He sits frozen for a split second, the connection stale and lifeless. I’m about to pull away in rabid humiliation when his mouth slowly moves beneath mine, the kiss tender. He wraps his arm tighter around me but still excessively gentle, as if I’ll break.

  It’s all so slow and calm and…weak.

  There’s no passion. No possession.

  Christ. What am I thinking?

  This is a first kiss. It’s not meant to be a porn audition. I’d just hoped for more.

  I need what I previously had.

  Ferocity.

  Obsession.

  I keep our mouths fused as I straddle his waist and cup his cheeks. I’ve never had a brother, but I’m starting to think this is what it might feel like to make out with one. The more I try to add kindling to the stack, the more my emotions assemble road blocks to all my nerve endings.

  There’s no fire. No flame. Not even a spark.

  I try harder, sliding my tongue between his lips.

  Everything is gentle. Soft. Deflated.

  Until a knock at the door has his hands snapping to my hips as if in protection.

  It’s a brief moment of aggressive force, the hold inspiring my heartbeat to rampen.

  I pull back, curious, yet thankful for the interruption. Then confusion takes hold.

  I don’t have any friends. Not apart from the man I’m straddling. And even if I did, I would’ve trained them well enough to know I’m not the type to want visitors after ten o’clock at night.

  “That was…” Easton clears his throat. “Unexpected.”

  Had I imagined his attraction? Please, for the love of all things holy, don’t make his flirtation another part of my vastly increasing mental delusions. “Unexpected?”

  The knock sounds again, this time a booming thud.

  Not only do I not have any friends who would attempt to beat down my door, I don’t have any neighbors who aren’t equally as reclusive as I am. And my landlord wouldn’t dare to bother me at this hour.

  Easton’s face turns grim, his eyes narrowing. “It’s him, isn’t it? He’s here.”

  “No.” I should pretend I don’t know who he’s talking about. That my whole life doesn’t currently revolve around one him. “He wouldn’t be able to get into my building.”

  He scoffs. “Do you really think—”

  The knock sounds again, louder and louder.

  “Open the door, Nis, I know you’re in there.”

  Oh, fuckety fuck.

  I scramble off Easton’s lap. He glides to his feet, far more elegantly than my baby-giraffe fumble.

  “Why is he here?” He stretches out a hand to help stabilize me, but I move out of reach, unable to stomach more contact.

  “I don’t know.” I keep my voice low. At least, I try. It’s hard to know what’s loud with the pulse booming in my ears.

  The tingles I’d been hoping for with that kiss flood me. Everywhere. No place more potent than my chest.

  My heart.

  “I’ll handle it.” Easton sidesteps me, starting for the door.

  “No.” I snatch at his wrist, yanking him to a stop. “Hold on a goddamn minute. I’m not a damsel in distress. This is my apartment and my guest… or intruder… or whatever the hell you want to call him.” I straighten my shoulders, those tingles turning into tremors at the thought of coming face-to-face with my mysterious syndrome creator. “I can handle Cole.” I point a finger at his chest. “You be quiet.”

  His chin hikes in offense.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I just…” I sigh. I hate this new normal. The confusion and lack of confidence. I want to go back to feeling alive again. And not just in the moments that involve Cole.

  The thunderous knock at the door gets louder, probably waking my neighbors.

  “I’m coming.” Fucking hell, that man is an impatient ass. “Stop banging.”

  I wince at Easton in apology and stalk for the door, yanking it open enough for Cole to see me and nothing else.

  I’m poised to yell at him. To rail and curse, but the sight of arrogance personified standing suave and sophisticated in my hall is enough to steal my voice. The dark and devilish hair. The predatory blue eyes. The perfectly chiseled jaw.

  “Nice to see you again, little fox.”

  My blood surges, the anger and animosity colliding. The unwanted attraction, too.

  I glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His mouth kicks in a cocky grin. It’s so subtle. The finest tweak of gorgeous lips.

  It’s enough to make me gush with intolerable amounts of desire.

  Fuck him.

  Seriously, fuck him and his hypnotic appeal. I don’t know what it is about this man that flicks all my switches, but once I figure it out, I’m shutting down that fuse box.

  “I tried calling you. And I know you got at least the first of my texts.” He shrugs. “Then I’m assuming you turned your phone off.”

  I scoot closer, holding the door handle behind me as I lower my voice. “If you’ve bugged my apartment, I swear to God—”

  “I haven’t bugged your apartment.” He smirks. “Come on, Nis, what do you take me for? Would a man like me really corrupt your privacy like that?”

  He corrupts everything. Every heartbeat. Every thought.

  “You can’t do this,” I hiss. “You can’t just come here and—”

  He steps forward, bridging the space between us, making me snap ramrod straight.

  I won’t backtrack. I can’t.

  I’m not going to let him win.

  “I just want to talk.” He stares down at me, those devilish, ocean eyes focused on my mouth.

  I swallow, already feeling his lips against mine. The buzz I’d wanted with Easton is right here, without a touch, without movement. The lust is suffocating.

  “Let me in.” He reache
s for the door.

  “No. You can say whatever you need right here.”

  His smirk increases, mirth dancing in his eyes as he leans a little closer. “It’s not fit for public consumption. We need privacy.”

  Just the thought of being alone with him, in a confined space, is enough to make my nipples tingle. Harden.

  I swallow over the desert taking hold in my throat and stand my ground. “Leave.”

  Another snicker brushes my ears as he takes one more step, walking into me as he pushes the door wide open.

  Shit.

  I want to grab him. To stop his momentum.

  But touch isn’t an option.

  If I snatch for him I’m not sure I’ll ever let go.

  He strides past me as I tense, waiting for the eruption of male testosterone that never eventuates. Easton isn’t in sight. He’s not in the kitchen or the tiny living area. He’s gone. There’s only me and Cole, and the realization that my bedroom door is now slightly ajar.

  “I’m serious,” I warn. “You can’t be in here.”

  What if he mentions Greece? What if he talks about our affair? Or what I did to his father?

  My fucking life will never be the same if Easton overhears.

  “Having a party?” Cole stops a few feet away, his attention scanning over the mess—the beer bottles, the empty pizza box, the television with its action-packed movie. He turns to face me, one brow raised. “It looks like I interrupted a good time.”

  “Every day is a party when I don’t have to deal with you.”

  He beams a player smile. White, perfect teeth. Dark, devilish eyes. He knows he’s under my skin, and he fucking loves it.

  Asshole.

  He licks his lower lip and lazily strolls toward me. “Admit you miss me.”

  My eyes flare. “What’s to miss? You’re nothing but a pain in my ass.”

  He chuckles, not stopping his approach, not even once he reaches my hyper-sensitive personal space. I’m forced to retreat. One step. Two. Until my butt hits the door, knocking it shut.

  “That’s not how I remember our time together.” He closes in, caging me with his presence like the most powerful predator.

  I’m rendered speechless, my pulse sky-rocketing, my limbs trembling.