by Eden Summers
How can he control me like this? How can he snatch my common sense and leave me defenseless?
“Something is different about you?” He scrutinizes me. “You’re flushed.”
“And I bet you think you’re responsible.”
“No.” His gaze hardens. “Your cheeks were already pink when you answered the door. Why?”
I should admit the truth. I need to end this crazy thing we have going on and simply tell him I was with Easton. But the words refuse to make themselves heard over the rush of intoxicating warmth.
“What do you need to tell me?” I swallow, squaring my shoulders. “Hurry up and spit it out so I can go to bed.”
That vulturous gaze studies me for long moments before he relaxes into his normal sense of superiority. “You need to lay low for a while. At least a few days. Don’t leave your apartment. Don’t even cross the street for coffee.”
Each demand makes me balk. Not only due to the underlying threat, but because he arrogantly thinks I’ll comply.
“I’ll have men watching the building,” he continues. “However, it’s best if—”
“Whoa.” I hold up a hand. “For starters, you will not have your men watch me. And second, I know how to take care of myself. I’m a goddamn FBI agent, Cole.”
“How could I forget?” His expression tightens.
“What’s this about?” I hike my chin, matching him stare for stare. “Why do you want me to hide?”
“You don’t need the details. Just lay low. It’s only for a few days.”
“You can’t barge in here and demand I put my life on hold for no reason.” I scowl. “Who do you think you are?”
I’m gifted with another one of those subtle, taunting snickers. He inches closer, getting in my face, the heat of his breath brushing my lips. “You know exactly who I am.”
My pulse detonates. My inhales transform into teeny, tiny gasps.
I want him. God, how I want to bite and claw this man out of my system, right on my carpeted floor. Our clothes strewn. Our bodies covered in sweat.
What I wouldn’t give to feel his heavy chest pressed down on mine. His lips on my flesh. His cock—
Fuck.
“Why?” I snap, my attention flicking to my bedroom door in guilt before trekking straight back to the wall of dominance before me.
He sighs, his superiority fading under the weight of something heavier. “I need you to trust me.”
Trust? Something seriously sinister must be happening if he’s asking for such a prize.
“Tell me.” My fingers itch to reach out. To physically demand answers and sate my need to touch him.
His jaw ticks, an internal battle coming into view behind those eyes. “Robert might still be alive.”
All the air leaves my lungs on a heave.
Robert.
The same Robert who humiliated me. Beat me. Threatened to kill me.
I’ve worked hard to suppress the memories of that monster. I did everything in my power to pretend those moments didn’t exist. Now they all come rushing back in a wealth of icy goose bumps.
“How do you know?” I keep my voice low.
“There was money taken from one of my father’s bank accounts. The security image isn’t clear, but Decker’s sister insists it’s him.”
I blink and blink, trying to beat back my shock. “Where?”
He winces. It’s slight, the minute narrowing of his brows, yet it’s enough to make my stomach bottom.
“Where, Cole?”
“Here,” he grates. “In Portland.”
Frigid fingers of panic grip my throat. “For how long? When did he arrive?”
“I don’t know. Could be weeks—”
“And you’re only telling me now?” My voice rises. “How could you—”
“I only just received the smallest hint of confirmation.” His lips curl in a snarl as he gets in my face. “And you’re the first fucking person I’ve told. I’ve got a house full of people waiting to find out, and I came here. I came to you. I’d never let…” His words trail, and I can’t help but bow my head, needing to break the potency of his stare in an attempt to make sense of what’s happening.
Robert was meant to be murdered for what he did to me. I heard him beg for his life. The gunshot had blasted my ears.
I’d been the reason for his supposed death.
And if he remains alive, I’d be one of his biggest targets.
“Hey.” Cole grips my chin, raising my face until I’m staring back at him. “I’ll protect you.”
Goddamnit.
The last thing I need right now is protection from an unwanted infatuation.
My lips part as I try to think of something strong and affirming to say. But the squeak of my bedroom door steals the words away.
Cole stiffens, his attention snapping across the room, his fingers tightening on my chin. We both stare at Easton standing in the doorway, his hair mussed, his muscled body on full display as he stands in nothing but his underwear, his shirt hanging loose in his hand.
He’s playing the role of awoken lover, and I can’t fathom his audacity.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He scowls at Cole and yanks the shirt over his head.
I’m frozen in a nightmare. Unable to do anything except watch the carnage from behind slowly blinking eyes.
Cole lets out a barely audible growl, his fingers sliding from my chin to leave me hollow. “I could ask you the same thing.” His gaze cuts back to mine. “But I won’t.”
He glares at me. Glares so hard and vicious I’m made to feel worthless under his attention.
He’s jealous.
Hurt.
His pain lashes through me like a lethal injection.
“I guess I didn’t need to warn you. You’ve already got all the protection you need.” He reaches behind me to pull open the door. “Excuse my interruption. It won’t happen again.”
No. He can’t leave. Not like this.
I want to scream at him to stop. To listen. To understand.
Instead, I let him walk from my apartment, the latch clicking shut seconds later as I remain rooted in place. Stunned.
“What the hell was that all about?” Easton approaches, his sleepy facade disappearing. “What were you two talking about?”
I slow my breathing, taking one long drag of air after another in the hopes more oxygen will decrease my mania.
“Nis? What the—”
“Stop.” I warn. “Don’t call me that.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, Anissa. But you’ve gotta understand how fucking mind-blown I am at seeing him all over you. I think I deserve some answers.”
I puff out a breath. Numb. Cold. Alone.
So goddamn alone.
The wildfire flames have been snuffed. All that’s left in Cole’s wake are dying embers.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s time for you to explain why the hell you came out here acting like we’d just slept together.”
4
Anissa
Easton retreats into the room and returns moments later carrying his jeans. “Would you have preferred if I pulled my gun?”
“I would’ve preferred if you’d let me handle it, like I asked.” I grate the words through clenched teeth. “You’ve only made things worse.”
He pulls on his pants, yanking them hard up his thighs. “I was trying—”
“No. Forget it.” I raise a hand for him to stop. “I don’t want to hear it.”
His intent was clear. He deliberately acted like a scorned lover to start some sort of macho pissing contest.
“Please leave.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, unable to keep looking at him.
“Are you serious?” He starts toward me. “What else was I going to do? I could—”
I backtrack, remaining out of reach. “Please just leave.”
He plants his feet… sighs… waits.
“Now, Easton. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“This is ridiculous.” He strides for the kitchen, swiping his keys and wallet from the counter. “I’m sorry, okay? Christ. I’m the one who was blindsided. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He’s not the only one who didn’t see this coming. Not only Cole’s appearance, but the resurrection of Robert. The thought of that heinous man still walking the earth has my stomach tied in knots.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Easton starts for the door. “Then we’re going to sit down and talk about what the hell is going on.”
I don’t respond. I wait until he leaves, then make my way to the window to peer at the street below. I remain in place until his sedan pulls from the curb. Then I stand there even longer, hoping Cole’s Porsche will follow so he knows I haven’t let anyone spend the night in my apartment.
But that black sports car doesn’t pass. Nobody does. The city street remains desolate until I drag my weary ass to bed.
The next morning, I didn’t hide. I ignored Cole’s demands, strapped my gun around my waist in a Velcro holster, pulled on a sweater and active pants, then went for a run.
I jogged block after block, appreciating the thrill of being watched. I knew, no matter how angry the devil was, that he wouldn’t stop his men from stalking me.
Protecting me.
And if Robert was around, I wanted to drag him out. Lure him in.
But he didn’t show his face. Not during the long morning, or in the afternoon when I made sure I’d ditched my invisible tail with some grade-A driving skills to turn the tables and shadow Cole.
I parked down his street, watching cars pass in and out of his property gates. Last night, he mentioned having a house full of people and that much is evident from the constant back and forth of vehicles. The property is guarded, too. A security team stalks the perimeter. Contractors. I don’t recognize the men through my binoculars.
I remain there until night falls, and one by one, a long line of cars leave through the gates. Security in front, then Hunter and Sarah, Benji and Layla, Decker and Keira, and finally Cole, followed by more security.
I follow, trailing in the distance to the Torian family restaurant. I circle the block after all five vehicles head toward the back of the building, and find a parking space within view of the floor-to-ceiling glass out the front.
Staff inside work in a synchronized frenzy, polishing cutlery in an open-plan area previously filled with tables and chairs.
I watch for a long time as guests arrive, the number of people growing by the hour until the entire restaurant is full of mingling criminals drinking alcohol and eating canapés.
Nobody is hiding from Robert. If anything, they’re being blatant with their lack of fear.
Especially Cole, who constantly parades the room, suave and sophisticated in his tailored suit, his hair styled, his smile sly yet welcoming. He makes some of the women blush through mere conversation, and I’m sure if I were in there I’d hear their flirtatious giggles.
It seems two can play the jealous game.
Bitterness eats away at me as I sit in silence, nothing but damaging thoughts to keep me company.
Decker, my previous informant turned criminal, talks to an older couple with Cole’s sister, Keira, close at his side. Hunter and Sara mingle. Benji and Layla speak with relatives of the Torian empire.
Everyone is in attendance except for Penny and Luca—the other man who was complicit in my abduction to Greece. I can’t find them as I skim the crowd slower through my binoculars, concerned for the welfare of the woman once held as a sex slave under the same roof as Robert.
She must be petrified.
I’m seated on the edge of my seat, leaning forward, eager for a better view, when a light rap at my driver’s-side window scares the ever-loving crap out of me.
I reach for my gun, yank it from the Velcro as I drop my binoculars to find Easton peering down at me.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
He glowers as he rounds the hood to the passenger side, waiting impatiently until I unlock the car.
“Want to know how long I spent driving around trying to find you?” He drops into the seat beside me, slamming the door behind him.
“Not really.” I shove my weapon back in place and stare out the window, unable to withstand his visual criticism.
“Don’t worry; it didn’t take long. This is the first place I looked. And surprise, surprise, you’re here.”
“Please don’t start this again. You’ve got no idea what’s going on.”
“Then tell me.” He turns to face me. “Fucking clue me in so I understand why you’re risking your career and your fucking life by hanging around this asshole.”
I clench my teeth, forcing myself not to respond.
“Jesus Christ, Fox.” He scoffs. “I don’t understand you anymore.”
That makes two of us.
I can’t figure out where I went wrong. I shouldn’t have set my sights on taking Cole down—that much is clear. But when did my need for justice become smothered by my obsession for the man himself?
“I wish I could explain…”
“No, you don’t,” he grates. “If you wanted me to know, I’d know. But instead, you choose to keep me in the dark and I have no idea why. Especially when I’m one of the only people who has never judged you.”
“You’re judging me now.”
He falls silent, allowing an uncomfortable awkwardness to settle between us.
I wouldn’t even have a clue where to start if I did tell him all the wrong turns I’ve taken to get to this point. I’d have to admit I’m no longer worthy of holding an FBI badge. I’d be forced to confess the feelings I’d had for a manipulative murderer.
The feelings I still have.
“Easton…” I sigh, unable to continue. There are no words to explain this mess.
“At least talk to me about that kiss.” His gaze bores into the side of my head. “Was it a mistake or did it mean something?”
My stomach flips. Not in a good way.
I don’t want to make things worse between us. I can’t lose the only person who has been kind enough to see through my flaws and not hold me accountable for my father’s mistakes.
“I don’t know.” It’s such a weak, pathetic response. The old me would spit in the face of the woman I’ve become, but I can’t explain something I don’t understand.
I can’t illustrate how I hoped the kiss would mean something and how, even after the fact, I’m still not sure if it did.
“Did you sleep with him?” He huffs out a derisive breath of a chuckle. “I don’t even know why I’m asking. He set you up. He fucking played you. But I can’t shake the sex vibes I’m getting between you two.”
“He had information on my father.” It’s not a lie. It’s barely a glimpse of the truth, but still, not a lie. Just enough of a fact to hopefully push him away from exposing the worst of my decisions where Cole is concerned.
“What information?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it fucking matters. What did he tell you? And why didn’t you fill me in sooner?”
“Because it’s nobody’s business.” Easton knows how I feel about my father’s disappearance. It’s the easiest escape from this conversation. “The Bureau labeled my father a turncoat. Anyone he worked with has already drawn their own damning conclusions, and I’m not going to waste my energy proving them wrong. I want to move on with my life.”
“I’m not asking for them. You used to trust me. What changed?”
I wince, hating how he thinks this is about him. “Nothing changed. I still trust you. You know you’re all I’ve got.” I meet his gaze, my wince remaining in apology. “I just didn’t want to reopen old wounds.”
He reaches out, his palm sliding over my wrist, back and forth. “I’m sorry.”
I tense, not appreciating the contact. “Forget it. Can we pretend this conversation n
ever happened?”
“I can…” His hand stops its gentle movement. “But what about the kiss? Do I forget that, too?”
To hell with that kiss.
And to hell with the man who drove me to commit the insanity in the first place.
“Don’t worry, Fox.” His touch retreats. “I’ll put it to the back of my mind. Temporarily. But sometime soon, I’m gonna want to figure out where that affection came from and if there’s any hope for a repeat.”
I nod, cringing on the inside. I owe him an explanation. Stupidity and shame be damned.
“What are you doing here anyway?” He shifts his attention to the restaurant. “What’s with the underworld festivities?”
“I don’t know.” I follow his line of sight, my gaze immediately seeking Cole only to come up empty. I can’t spy him among the crowd. I can no longer see Hunter or Sarah either. In fact, Decker, Benji, and Layla are all gone, too.
I sit taller, scanning the guests once more.
“Is Cole even in there?” Easton asks.
“He was. They all were. I can’t find any of them now.” I reach for my binoculars.
“Are they up to something?”
“Aren’t they always? We both know they live to hatch new schemes. That’s not going to change anytime soon.” I itch to get out of the car. My skin literally crawls with the inability to find my target. “I’m going to take a closer look.”
I unfasten my belt and open my door, only to have Easton grab my wrist again.
“There. Look.” He jerks his head at the restaurant. “He just came in from the kitchen.”
I narrow my focus. Cole returns to the party. Benji and Layla follow a few minutes behind. Then Hunter.
They all seem different now. Cole is tense, the player smile no longer plastered on his face. Instead, he scowls, his lips pressed tight. And his posture denotes a sharp stick has been shoved up his usually impenetrable ass.
I still can’t find Decker.
Something must have happened.
I want to believe the change in Cole has something to do with Robert’s capture. But I know him well enough to determine the shift in his demeanor isn’t from good news.