by Eden Summers
Well, great. Now I feel like trash.
It doesn’t matter that his execution was utter idiocy—his motives were thoughtful.
Through this whole ordeal, he’s still taken time to remember my needs and my sustenance while I stand here struggling to remind myself of the bigger picture through the haze of lust.
“Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll order the damn food.” I glance around the huge space, searching for a phone or menu.
“Kitchen,” he drawls, not even raising his arm to look at me.
Damn mind reader.
I pad toward the sparkling stainless steel and round the marble counter, finding the phone beside the fridge and the menu in a drawer. I’m finger sliding through the list of mouthwatering food items when a knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” Cole yells.
The blood drains from my face. I reach for a gun that isn’t there. “Are you serious?” I hiss. “That could be anyone.”
We’re in a foreign city, with foreign threats. This isn’t well-known Portland territory.
“Untwist your panties. It’s Hunt and the others. They messaged while I was in the bedroom.”
The door opens and the familiar mumble of deep voices down the hall has me relaxing my tense muscles.
“You still couldn’t have known,” I say in defense. “Anyone could walk through that door. So don’t do something this reckless again. Not when my safety is in jeopardy.”
Hunter and Sarah wheel my suitcase in as I finish my tirade, followed by Decker, Keira, Layla, then Benji, who carries one of the duffels.
“What’s going on?” Hunt asks.
Cole shoves to his feet in my periphery, his air of increasing authority building as he approaches. “Bear with me a moment,” he growls when he passes them. “Anissa and I need to get one thing straight.”
He storms forward, making every inch of me stiffen at his ferocity while our audience watches. Those hard eyes slay me, almost buckle me. He stops in my personal space.
“They followed us to the fucking hotel,” he snarls. “They messaged me to say they were here.” He leans closer, forcing me to backtrack into the counter.
I should be hating his dominance, despising the demeaning way he talks to me in front of everyone. Instead, my lips tingle, my nipples ache.
I have to hate this.
Oh, God, how I have to hate this.
“They even had a fucking key,” he enunciates slowly. “Not now, or ever, will I take uneducated guesses. I protect what’s mine. I’m not careless with—” He stops, his gaze boring into me, his mouth hinging open a crack.
I hold my breath, struggling to understand what I’ve done to end the tirade, but then his shoulders lose their stiffness and his face washes clean of the confident aggression.
Have his words come back to bite him? Does he think he’s been careless with those children? Does he hold himself responsible?
Yes. I can see it in the slight pinch to his brows. In the uncomfortable scrunch of his nose.
My stomach twists with more unwanted sympathy as eerie silence suffocates the air.
He can’t show weakness now. Not in front of his sister, who is resting her daughter’s life on his shoulders. Or his men, who need to follow his example.
They’re all depending on him to lead them out of this. He has to remain strong.
“I get it. You’re the fearless Cole Torian,” I seethe back in his face, hoping to resuscitate his conviction. “How could I forget the way you’ve built an empire on bloodshed and brutality?”
I’m attempting to remind him. Inspire him.
But his stiffness doesn’t return. He’s still lost in guilt, his gaze unfocused on my cheek.
“Next time, fill me in on what’s happening.” I inch closer, smothering his personal space, the hair on my arms prickling from the attention of our captivated audience. “I’m not one of your minions who will blindly follow where you lead.”
I begin to turn, hoping to end the awkwardness by ordering food, but he grabs the crook of my arm, forcing me back in place, demanding my gaze to his with nothing more than a heated stare.
I shiver. Shudder. Everything inside me quakes under his attention, and I’m sure he feels it.
“Mark my words, little fox.” His lips are cruel as his grip tightens. “You will follow me blindly. One way or another.”
I know I will.
I already do.
He releases my arm and stalks away, shoving past Hunter and Benji to escape into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I don’t move. Don’t weaken.
I stare at the far wall as Decker mutters something under his breath and limps his way to the sofa. The others begin to follow, allowing me a few moments to close my eyes and slump against the counter to gain composure.
I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
I’m straddling too many emotions, each one spreading me in a different direction. The calm self-assurance that has accompanied me my entire career is no longer here to depend on. I’ve got nothing but instability.
“Are you okay?”
Keira’s voice snaps me out of my mental shelter.
I straighten and busy myself by reaching for the room service menu. “I’m fine.”
“My brother can be pig-headed sometimes.”
I huff out a laugh. “Sometimes?” I shoot her a two-second glance. It’s a mistake.
Her eyes are kind. Bloodshot and puffy, but gloriously, sympathetically kind.
“There’s something between you two, isn’t there?” she asks. “Something that makes more sense than the convoluted excuses he’s given me about you working together for mutual gain. He doesn’t usually lie to me. But I have a feeling he is when it comes to you because he’s too tight-lipped.”
“I guess it’s nice to know something can shut him up.”
She gives a sad smile, not buying my attempt at humor. “You know, in my entire life, I’ve never seen a woman stand up to him like you just did.”
I zero in on the menu. The clear-cut words and the crisp white paper. I focus on everything except her admission that’s likely to weaken me further. “That’s a real shame. Maybe if more women didn’t bow down to his smarmy arrogance he wouldn’t be such a raging asshole.”
“Not only that,” she continues, “but I’ve never seen him walk away from a heated exchange as if he’d lost the fight. And then to hide in his room? That’s quite a feat.”
My throat tightens. “What can I say? Cole and I have a special sort of toxic relationship only the best of enemies can have.”
“Enemies?” I hear the smile in her voice. “Is that really what you are?”
No. “Yes.” My response is rapid, and regretted just as quickly. I bit out the lie with too much guilt.
She gives a breathy chuckle, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I can feel her gaze on me. The narrowing eyes. The scrutiny.
“I know I wanted you to leave earlier, but…” She shrugs in my periphery. “I think that might have been a mistake. Having you here means a lot. We could use someone like you around more often—”
“No.” I turn to face her. “Don’t even waste your breath. This is a one-time thing. I’m morally obligated to help with those kids. But that’s it. Afterwards, I’m done.” I snatch the menu from the counter and walk forward to hand it over. “You should order some food. Everyone needs to keep their energy up.”
I maneuver around her and take a hard right down the hall, moving away from the quiet conversation to escape into the far bedroom, then farther into the adjoining bathroom.
I wash my face in the basin, over and over again, wishing I could scrub free from reality. But as soon as I turn off the faucet, I hear Cole’s voice—the unmistakable growl that collars and enslaves me.
I dry myself with a hand towel and return to the bedroom to sit on the edge of the king-size mattress, listening to him speak. There’s no longer any weakness in his tone as he informs them of
the photo he received. He’s so fucking strong and sure of himself, his authority a commanding force.
He continues talking as someone sobs. He outlines possible strategies for the pick-up of the children. He mentions the names of those who will accompany him, and I’m disappointed to hear I’m not one of them.
Questions are thrown at him. Suggestions are offered. More sobs filter down the hall.
I bow my head, a slave to my unwavering admiration of a criminal, and pull out my cell as a distraction technique.
I do an internet search on Emmanuel Costa, determined to lose myself in the long list of results.
I skim through details of his fashion empire, find out he’s a majority shareholder in innumerable well-known companies. He has no fixed address, but owns a rolodex worth of properties around the country and the globe.
Born from poor parents. Father to four children—three boys and a girl. All offspring follow in their papa’s footsteps.
I don’t find any ties to Sacramento. No real estate ownership or businesses. But all it would take is one text to Easton. One quick question to get him to do a search on the Bureau’s database.
I’m tempted.
I clear the browser and open my messages, clicking on his name. I stare for long moments, battling indecision.
Is it worth the risk?
“What are you doing?” Cole asks from the doorway.
“Jesus Christ.” The cell fumbles from my hand, falling to the floor. “Did you deliberately sneak up on me?”
“I called your name. Twice.” He stalks forward and scoops up my phone, his face hardening as he stares at the screen. “Miss him already? You couldn’t even last a few hours?”
I push to my feet and attempt to snatch the device back, only to have it held out of reach. “That’s real mature.” I try again. “Give it back.”
“What did you plan on sending to him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He glares. “Like hell it isn’t. If you jeopardize Tobias and Stella’s safety, I’ll ensure you regret it. Or maybe you’ve already contacted him. Did you send him a message and delete it?
“No.” I hold my head high. “I haven’t contacted him.”
“But you want to.” He scrolls through my screen, probably checking past messages that would clearly outline our platonic relationship. “You would’ve if I hadn’t interrupted.”
I don’t respond. There’s no point. He’s in a mood I don’t want to trifle with.
“What is it about him?” he murmurs. “What could you possibly find attractive in such a pathetic man? I thought you were smarter than that.”
I keep my lips shut, not indulging his jealousy spiral.
“Maybe I should keep this.” He holds up the phone, taunting me. “Just in case you’re tempted to get in contact with him again.”
“Just in case I’m tempted?” I raise a brow. “Or just to appease your jealousy?” He needs to get this out of his system. I may have used my partner as a shield, but we can no longer afford the distraction. “Keep the phone if you think it’s the only way you can get between me and Easton.”
“Oh, I could do a lot of things aside from taking away your phone, Nis. Trust me.”
I start toward the hall. “I don’t doubt it. But right here, right now, it’s your frantic attempt to stop me talking to someone who threatens you.” I pause in the doorway and glance at him over my shoulder.
“Do not contact him again while you’re with me,” he warns.
“And if I do?” It’s such a stupid question. Taunting. Provoking. I can’t help it.
“If you do?” He swings around, storms toward me, not stopping until I’m backed into the wooden threshold. He pins me with his body—no hands, just hips. And eyes. God, those captivating eyes.
He breathes heavily, the rise and fall of his chest brushing against mine.
There are no more taunts left in me. Only heat. Desire.
I ache to drop this charade. I burn with the need to kiss him.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to soothe the tingle, only increasing my suffering when his gaze lowers to my mouth.
Memories from Greece haunt me. The flashbacks of pleasure and passion weaken my knees.
“You might be with him, but you still need me.” He pockets my cell. “You fucking want me, Nissa.”
I close my eyes, hoping he’ll bridge the connection and praying he won’t. My desire is potent enough to push the air from my lungs, leaving me starved for oxygen.
“You’re with him.” He leans closer. “But I’m the one who makes you burn.”
It’s true. Not the being with Easton part, but the burning. The flames lick higher with every passing second. Scorching. Scarring.
My hands find his pecs. I don’t know how. I didn’t put them there. I couldn’t have. Some unknown force has my limbs working without my direction, tangling my fingers in the silken material of his shirt.
“Say it,” he growls. “Fucking tell me you want me.”
I shake my head.
I won’t.
I refuse.
“Have it your way.”
His heat vanishes, my arms falling back to my side as he retreats.
I swallow, desperate for the heat to return. The energy. The life. But he doesn’t slow his pace.
“Cole.” I push from the threshold and grab his arm.
He turns willingly, his menacing frame seeming so much bigger when I’m practically begging for his attention. He glares down at me, nostrils flaring.
I don’t fight it any more. I go to him, surrendering, raising onto the tips of my toes to plaster my mouth against his.
I expect a refusal. At least a fight. Instead, his hands claim me. Tight in my hair. Harsh against my hip.
He walks into me, leading me backward, slamming my ass into the wall as his mouth devours mine.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
There’s only sensation. Mindless, consuming sensation that starts in my toes and ends at my lips.
The feelings I held for him in Greece come flooding back. Not just the passion, but the connection. The emotion. The unbearable devotion.
My heart yearns for more as he grabs my waist and lifts me, forcing my legs to circle his hips as he grinds me into the wall. The friction is heaven and hell. Relief and increased torture.
One of his hands lowers and he fumbles with something. His belt? His zipper?
I’m about to pull away, panicked at the possibility of him attempting to remove clothes, when he deepens the kiss, making me clutch at his shoulders for support.
I gasp against his mouth. Mewl into the connection.
I claw at his suit. Scratch and tug.
The trap of mindlessness has reeled me in, closing me into its cocoon. I don’t care. Not anymore. I just want this. Only this.
Someone clears their throat nearby and I gasp, suddenly pushing instead of pulling, shoving instead of yanking.
“I should’ve brought a hose.” Hunter glares at me. “I didn’t expect to find you two at it like dogs.”
Cole retreats slowly, waiting for me to find my feet. “What do you want?”
“Room service is here. But it looks as though you’re already enjoying an unhealthy snack.” Hunter continues to visually berate me for long seconds while the scent of deep-fried food fills the space in my lungs where intoxicating aftershave once lived.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Cole warns. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Hunter scoffs yet follows the command, marching down the hall.
As soon as his back is turned, I quit fighting the need to heave in deep breaths, my cheeks flaming red-hot.
I don’t know whether to feel ashamed or relieved over finally giving in.
“You should eat.” Cole turns away from me, lowering his attention to my cell now cradled in his hand, his fingers tapping the screen.
“What are you doing?” I step closer, attempting to see, but he hands over t
he phone, giving me a clear view of the new message he sent to Easton.
A fucking video.
“What have you done?” I snatch the device and play the recording, feeling all the euphoric goodness slide from my soul one slow inch at a time.
“I’m claiming what’s mine.” He walks away as I watch myself on the screen, my lips plastered to Cole’s, my hands clutching his shoulders.
He recorded us.
He fucking recorded us and sent it to Easton.
“You son of a bitch.” I storm after him. My chest tightens with the betrayal. My heart beats in a rigorous frenzy at the thought of the repercussions. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“I already told you.” He keeps walking, his stride confident, his shoulders strong and sure. “Now he knows the truth.”
“The truth?” I scream. “No, this doesn’t show the truth. It doesn’t tell him how much of a fucking thoughtless, psychopathic idiot you are.”
I throw my cell at him, my rage increasing when he easily leans out of the projectile’s path. The phone ricochets off the wall, clapping to the tile floor.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I choke out.
He inclines his head. “Yes. But you already knew that before you threw yourself at me.”
I gape, stuck for words, filled with shame.
He continues into the living room, the attention of everyone falling on us as I follow close behind.
I want to strangle him. To fucking slaughter.
But he isn’t wrong.
I threw myself at him. I latched on to his shoulders like a monkey starved of affection.
“You’re a sick son of a bitch.” My words are barely audible. “You deliberately—”
“Stop it.” Layla raises her voice. “Both of you, just stop.” Tears streak her cheeks as she glances between us, wide-eyed. “Stella is missing and you two are wasting time arguing. Where is my daughter, Cole? Why can’t you put as much energy into finding her as you do fighting this woman?”
Benji wraps a hand around her waist. “It’s okay. He’s—”
“No, it’s not okay.” She steps out of reach. “None of this is okay. Not that those innocent children are missing. Or that we’re in this godforsaken city waiting to hear from a man we know nothing about. And it sure as hell isn’t okay that we’ve got a Fed here watching our every move. I don’t even know what I can and can’t say, because I’m waiting for her to arrest me.”