by Eden Summers
She deserved them. Those keys were hers.
“Torian, listen to me.” He moves closer, grabbing my shoulders with force, digging his fingers into muscle. “I wasn’t threatened by her. I was threatened by what she could do to you. To our whole fucking set up. And I was right. You missed things you never would’ve missed before. You didn’t even notice the betrayal from your sister and Benji because you were too head-fucked.”
I launch a fist, striking a warning punch to his gut.
He takes the hit with a puff of air.
“You’re wrong.” I shove him backward. “My failings are mine and mine alone. She hasn’t fucking weakened me. Life has done that.” I shove him again. “Finding out the degree of my family’s filth has caused this. Burying my fucking uncle. Discovering what was done to Keira. Not to mention Decker’s betrayal, and yours, for that matter. Then there was Greece. Now this.” I stalk forward and shove him again. “That fucking Fed is the only reason I’m still standing. She’s the strength that got me to this point. She’s the only goddamn thing that kept me going.”
“She was a distraction.”
“No,” I snarl. “She was my peace. My fucking redemption. And you owed her respect, not animosity.”
His chin hikes, his hands fisted at his sides.
“I would’ve made her mine.” I hold his gaze, letting him know the brutal truth. “She would’ve helped right this fucking shitshow. She would’ve had authority over you. Over everything. And I would’ve trusted her with it.”
His jaw ticks. “Then you’re a fool.”
Maybe. But I would’ve done it without regret.
Nissa was a risk I couldn’t back away from. Even now, I regret vowing not to chase her. I need her here. I crave the adrenaline-filled clarity she provides.
“Look…” Hunt huffs out a breath. “I get the infatuation. Seriously, I understand how messed up that shit is after meeting Sarah. But her leaving is the best thing—”
A knock at the door cuts him short.
He raises a brow, silently asking if I’m expecting visitors.
It could be anyone—my heartbroken sisters, any of my men, or goddamn housekeeping for all I know.
The knock sounds again, this time louder.
“I guess I’m answering that.” Hunt stalks from the room, retrieving his gun from the back of his pants.
I follow into the living area as the knock comes again, and again.
“I’m coming,” Hunt yells. He reaches the door, places his barrel against the wood and checks the peephole. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
The hair on my nape prickles as I start toward him, my hand on my weapon. “Who is it?”
He snarls, “Trouble.”
24
Anissa
I sit my ass in the gutter between two parked cars, hiding from people passing by the front of the hotel.
Marriage.
Cole proposed marriage. Not just from left field, but from outer fucking space.
There’s no way it would work. Not in a million years.
So why does it feel like I’ve made a mistake? Why is it so hard to now be separated from him?
My insides churn with abandonment, as if he’s the guilty party who left me, instead of the other way around. This is exactly what it felt like when I turned my back on him after Greece. Only this time, it’s stronger. The invisible hands wrapped around my throat are tighter.
I pull out my phone, needing to find grounding in the one person I can rely on, and ignore the guilt as I unblock Easton’s number.
He’ll know how to right this train wreck. He’ll give me a dose of that Cole-is-a-maniacal-psychopath speech and I’ll be pulled back from the brink of disaster. It’s my trembling heart that makes it hard, even now, to defy Cole.
Message after message downloads to my cell, all the vibrating notifications coming from Easton. There are phone calls. Texts. Emails.
The guilt thickens over blocking him in the first place, followed by more shame over the barrage of unanswered communication. But I’d wanted the barrier. It felt right to be with Cole without distraction. At least until now.
I dial Easton’s number and don’t have a chance to back out before the line connects.
“Where the hell are you?” he demands in greeting. “I’ve been worried sick.”
Despite his anger, it’s good to hear his voice. “I needed to get away.” I bend my knees, dragging them to my chest. “But I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“No, truly. I’m okay.” I nod, attempting to convince myself of the lie. “Things just got a little hectic with my shrink, and us, and…”
“And Torian,” he finishes for me.
I don’t verbalize my agreement. We both know I don’t have to.
“Take all the time you need, Fox—just quit ignoring me. I was about to file a missing person’s report.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” I rub the heel of my palm over my sternum, attempting to dislodge the ache beneath it. I want to tell him everything. About Cole. And Emmanuel. Even the increase in my psychosis. But I can’t get those words out yet. I need to fill the void with something else.
“I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have kissed you the other night.”
There’s a beat of silence. The slightest pause that pummels me with remorse.
“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “It was nice.”
He nailed it. Out of every possible description, he picked the perfect one to explain our brief press of lips.
It was agreeable. Friendly. And in complete contrast to the sheer force of nature that happens when my mouth is on Cole’s.
“Look, I know things are complicated with us working together,” he continues. “But sometimes it’s okay to do the wrong thing when it feels right. We’re not always meant to follow the rules. We’re born with instincts for a reason. That, by far, should be the ultimate measure of what’s right and wrong.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, hating that he’s putting voice to what I’ve been trying to deny with Cole. The instinct to be with a man I’d usually despise goes far beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m drawn to him. Even now, I want to run back to his side.
“I’ve hidden feelings for you for a long time, Anissa. We’ll figure this out. There’s no rush.”
I shield my face with a hand, so fucking ashamed to have led Easton to this point when I’m in a completely different mental space to him.
The last twenty-four hours have solidified that there can never be a future between us. Maybe even between me and any other man. I’m lost to the hunger of Cole. Trapped in this thrilling desperation. I may have left him, but there’s no returning to normal life after what we shared.
“I’m sorry but you misunderstood.” I swallow over my agonizingly parched throat. “I don’t feel the same way.”
His silence is deafening. A car horn blares in the distance. The brakes of a bus hiss nearby.
“I wish I did,” I murmur. “I wanted to feel the same. I pushed and pushed in an attempt to create those emotions because you’re everything that’s right in this world. But…” I shake my head, unable to explain. Or maybe I’m just scared to admit that even though something good was wrapped in a bow and placed before me like a prize, I decided to throw it away.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” He sighs. “What I feel for you, you somehow feel for him.”
I’d love to be able to agree, but his statement holds no accuracy. There’s nothing nice between Cole and I. There’s fire and passion and flame. There’s battle and so much bloody war, and beneath it all, there’s a devastatingly sweet rebirth that captures my breath and infuses me with unbelievable strength.
“Are you with him now?” he asks.
“No.” It’s not a lie. I’m not with Cole. Not anymore. Even though my heart still is.
“But you want to be.” He announces my weakness with bitter simp
licity. “Is that why you’re calling? Because you want me to make you feel better about throwing your life away?”
That hadn’t been my intent at all. But maybe I’d been kidding myself.
I bury my head in my hand. “What sort of person does it make me if I say yes?”
“I guess it makes you more brutally honest than I anticipated.”
I crinkle my nose to fight the burn. “My father works for him,” I admit. “Or for someone aligned with the family. All this time, I thought he was one of the good guys. I pictured him as this unflinching voice of integrity and honor. Now I’ve found out he’s…”
“He’s what?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug to myself. “Like Cole. Like the person I feel drawn to become.”
“You’re not a bad person, Anissa. I don’t know what happened to make you think you’ve got anything in common with those people, but it’s not true. You’re one of the good guys. You’re one of the fucking best.”
His words don’t hit their mark. I’m not persuaded by his beliefs this time. And I’m unsure if I still want to be.
Being good doesn’t hold the warm fuzzies it once did. There’s no comfort.
“You’re wrong.” My conviction builds. “I’ve done things that go against everything I signed up for with the Bureau. I’ve committed crimes and—”
“Fox, this isn’t a conversation to have over the phone. Why don’t you come to my place? We can talk this out face-to-face.”
No, I don’t think I can.
Conviction is gaining the better of me. It’s intensifying. Strengthening. The pull toward what I want is outweighing what I’d once thought was right.
“I’m like him, Easton. I’m exactly like Cole. And all the illegal things I’ve done lately don’t come with remorse. If anything, I’m proud.” I want to tell him about Luther. That a monstrous sex trafficker is now unable to hurt more women because of my actions. I’ve done bad things for good reasons and I’m okay with that. I’m emboldened. “I did something you would never forgive me for. It wasn’t by the book and I don’t regret—”
“Anissa, I’m hanging up. This line isn’t secure.”
“No, wait. I just need…” God, I don’t know what I need. Approval, maybe. Acceptance? Closure?
Cole is an adamant vision in my mind. His hold on my heart is strengthening the more I fight it.
He’s everything. And I don’t think I can live through more weeks fighting where I’m drawn to. I can’t let him go again.
“You’ve decided to be with him.” The words seem to fall easily from his lips when I’m still trying to deny them.
I’ve relied on Easton to remind me of Cole’s abhorrence. I’ve used him as a shield against my cravings when I never truly believed the negativity he spoon-fed me. I even had to self-diagnose a mental illness in an effort to protect myself. Yet, it’s now clear Cole is a calling.
He’s my path.
“Yes,” I admit. “I have.”
Easton’s ragged exhale carries down the line, his pained emotion coming with it. “Do you realize you’re going to lose everything? Your job. Your friends. Your life.”
“Yes.” And still I can’t walk away. From Cole. From this compulsion that’s worked its way into the marrow of my bones.
“That means me, too,” he adds. “I can’t stick by you through this. I won’t watch you ruin your life.”
My self-loathing builds. I hate even more that the decision to go after Cole still feels right. It’s all there is. Conviction and growing determination.
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze the cell tighter. “I wish I could explain—”
“Don’t. I’d never understand anyway.” There’s no bite to his words. Only resignation. “But if you ever need a way out, I’ll still be here. You’ll always know where to find me, even if you can’t find yourself.”
I want to tell him I’m found. That after so long running, I’m right where I need to be. No longer a special agent of the FBI. Not the isolated woman who couldn’t find her place in the world.
I’m Anissa Fox. Current lover to an underworld mastermind. Future queen to a lawless empire. And devoted slave to a man I never imagined I could admire.
As long as I’m not too late to claim what’s mine.
25
Cole
“She’s gone, is she?” Hunt shoots me a glare and yanks the door wider. “Doesn’t look gone to me.”
I stand tall as Anissa walks into the penthouse, keeping her distance from Hunt to continue along the hall toward me.
“Come back for your things?” I keep my tone level, not buying into the optimistic throb in my gut. “I told you I’d have them sent to you.”
She stops at the entry to the open living area and glances over her shoulder, eying Hunt before shaking her head. “No.”
“I swear to God,” he growls. “You two are the stupidest fucks I know.”
I scowl at him. “Go get Benji.”
“Do you want me to tell the others what’s happening?” He pastes on a malicious smile. “I’m happy to break the news of your agreement to the arranged marriage.”
Anissa stands straighter, her chin inching higher.
I flex my fingers. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
“Well, I’d suggest you keep your dick in your pants, but we both know that ain’t gonna happen.”
He storms out, slamming the door behind him, the vibrations momentarily ringing through the penthouse until the noise fades into uncomfortable quiet.
The distant sound of city traffic is the only reminder of the outside world. But I don’t break the silence. Not for a long time. I lean against the wall, pretending I’m okay with the suspense, as she rounds the sofa to stop at the glass doors and stares across the Sacramento skyline.
She doesn’t talk. She merely stands there with her back to me, chin high, shoulders straight, posture perfect.
“What are you doing here, Nis?”
Her head bows momentarily before returning to the confident angle. “I came back.”
“I can see that. What I want to know is why?” I should kick the superior undertone from my voice. I really fucking should. But superiority is all I have until she retrieves the knife she embedded between my ribs.
“I thought you’d already be halfway to the airport by now.” I push from the wall. “Do you need me to arrange a car?”
“No.”
She’s fucking killing me with this subdued bullshit. I want to shake the answers from her. And maybe I will. I can’t handle this twenty-question routine.
“Nis, I don’t have time for whatever the hell this is. What do you want from me?”
She turns my way with stark eyes, her fragility clearly visible in those hazel-green depths. “I called Easton.”
Motherfucker.
The rage is instantaneous. The heat suffusing my face becomes a fucking furnace.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Her expression hardens. “I didn’t do it to upset you.”
“Give me your phone.” I stalk toward her, thrusting out a hand. She’s played this card before. I need to make sure she’s not bluffing again. “Now.”
She raises her brows as she pulls the device from her pants pocket with a faint sniff. “Are you going to break it?”
Not as much as I’m going to break him. “Unlock it.”
She does that too, her stare turning haughty as I scroll through her recent calls, finding the truth about her deception.
“Fucking hell.” I lob the device at the sofa. “What did you tell him?”
She holds my gaze, her jaw tight.
“What the fuck did you tell him, Anissa?” I close in on her, almost nose to nose, making it impossible for her to escape my fury.
She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin, attempting to stare me down. “I said goodbye.”
Shock hits me. Confusion, too.
The silence returns, but this time it’s loud. The absence of sound
deafens me. The beat of my pulse thunders.
“He doesn’t know where I am,” she murmurs. “But he knows I’m choosing you—your life, your world.”
This is a trick. A game.
She’s telling me exactly what I want to hear, and I’m not sure why.
“Now it’s your turn to say something.” Her teeth dig into her lower lip. “What are you thinking?”
“I want to know what you’re playing at.”
She winces. “I’m not playing. I told him how I feel about you.”
“And how is that?” I growl, biting back the tension growing in my gut.
She breaks eye contact to stare at the sofa. “You already know.”
“I certainly thought I did back in Greece. Then again after last night. But you’ve walked away from me twice now. I’d be a fool to give you the opportunity to do it a third time.”
“No, you’d be a fool for not realizing I wasn’t walking from you, but instead attempting to hide from what I didn’t want to accept.” Her gaze raises to mine. “Fear drove me away. Nothing else. I understand that now.”
I want to gorge on her words. To dive into them with unwavering faith. If only it were that easy. “What changed?”
“The thought of losing you outweighs the fear.” Her arms fall to her sides as her chin regains the slightest hitch of determination. “I can’t see you with someone else.”
That’s good to know. But still, I won’t sink my teeth into the prize standing before me. Not when I’m sure it’s a mirage.
She sighs. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“It wasn’t easy watching you walk away.”
“I’m sorry, okay? You say things that scare the hell out of me. Marriage, for starters. Then the constant talk of ownership.”
“That’s this life, Nis. It’s how I live. If I don’t own every single aspect of my existence, I’m as good as dead. I need to own every move I make, every thought, every action, and every damn woman I stake a claim to, otherwise my enemies target the weakness, just like they did with those kids.”