Keeping Ava

by Elena M. Reyes

  “It is.” Nothing more is said for a while. Could be minutes or hours, I wouldn’t know as my focus stays on her. How she breathes in deep and then exhales slowly, calming herself. She’s fighting against the small bought of panic that’s trying to take her under.

  Her fingers in mine are a bit sweaty, but no longer clinging tight. Instead, the stiffness slowly becomes languid, and her mild shaking stops the longer we just stand here.

  At that moment, the phone inside my pocket vibrates, and behind us the front door closes softly. Yet, instead of turning around to look, I take out my phone and read the text from a number that is familiar from the file atop my coffee table.

  I’ll bring her things up. ~Weston K.

  Thank you. ~Ford

  “You probably think I’m being ridiculous,” Ava says from beside me then as I pocket my cell. Her voice is low, a gentle hum.

  “Not at all.” My eyes study her profile, how beautiful she is. How delicate her features are, from the small button nose to her pouty lips—she’s what I imagine a living doll would be. “After everything you’ve seen and endured, I expect you to panic. Not trusting your surroundings and the people in it is normal.”

  “I feel safe here,” she mumbles, and it’s almost too low for me to hear, but I do. Moreover, it causes a weird sensation to overtake my chest, and I rub the spot. There’s pride mixed with confusion and lust.

  Christ, Ford. Get a hold of yourself. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Miss Perry. You’re safe inside my home and with me. All I ask is that while this mess gets righted, you don’t go out alone. Please don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

  “I won’t, but I have to ask—”

  “How long before we catch him?”

  “Had you let me finish...” She gives me a mock glare that pulls a chuckle from me.

  “My apologies. Go on.”

  “Thank you.” Ava pushes a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I was going to ask you about the security of the building?”

  Good girl. “No one gets in or out without a key, and the staff knows to I.D. those without one. Of course, visitors come and go, but they are vetted and approved by the other residents here to the onsite security.”

  “So, no strays?”

  “No.” Extending my arm toward her line of sight, I lift my wrist so she can see the app at the center of my smart watch. “That alerts me to anyone at the door, and on my phone there’s a live feed of the same. So even if I’m not here, I’ll be able to see and come right up.”

  “That’s a confusing statement.”

  “I use the gym downstairs and at times, the conference room.” Tapping the app on the screen, I show her the camera view. “I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”

  “To serve and protect…right?” The way she words it causes me to lower my arm and fully turn toward her. Placing my hip against the balcony’s veranda, I study the furrow right between her eyes and how her shoulders hunch a bit.

  “Does that bother you? My oath?”

  “It’s the same one officer after officer fed me back in Lubbock, Elijah. Each time I gave my accounts of the night, picked him out of a line-up, I was made that promise and they all fell short.”

  “I’m not them.”

  “You’re human.”

  “And so is he.”

  At that she turns too, facing me with an apologetic expression, silently asking that I don’t take what she’s saying personal. “He is.”

  “You doubt me?” Because that wouldn’t work. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her find peace again.

  “No.” Ava bites her bottom lip and looks away. I hate it. Need those eyes back on mine. “And that scares me.”

  Without conscious thought, I bring a hand up and cup her chin, tilting her face back up to mine. Blue eyes meet hazel, and there’s a hint of something dangerous in her stare.

  For me.

  For her.

  That yearning reflecting back at me will be my downfall.

  “Explain, sweetheart.” I ask, my tone low as my thumb rubs across her soft cheek. There’s a hint of pink that spreads beneath my skin. It’s warm and tempting. So pretty. “Why does it scare you?”

  “For some inexplicable reason, Detective…I believe in your words.” Ava nuzzles my palm once, then takes it within both of hers. Soft skin cocoons mine, and yet, I feel as if I’m being burned. Just this simple touch sets me ablaze, and it takes a herculean effort to stay as I am. To not kiss her. To not feel her. She needs your protection and nothing else. “…I feel safe inside your home, and that can end badly for me.”

  Those words don’t make a lick of sense to me, and I know my expression mirrors the thought. “How so?”

  “Because complacency can get me killed.” Ava lets go of my hand and steps back, an invisible wall replacing her warmth. Those baby blues are sad as they watch me. “I’m afraid, Elijah…I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

  “I’d kill him before—”

  “He’s coming for me.”

  Before I can respond, a knock comes from the front door, and we step further apart as it opens. Wes looks straight at me once through the threshold, his expression serious. Downright pissed the fuck off.

  Three quick vibrations in my pocket alert me to a missed message, and I know they are from him.

  “Give me a minute,” I say, already walking back inside. Something went wrong, and leaving her alone on the balcony for the time being is for the best. Whatever it is, I don’t want her to hear it just yet.

  I’ll break it to her.

  Later. Much later, once we’re alone.

  “He’s—”

  “Outside, now.” My voice is harsh, body tensing as I make my way outside the apartment. I don’t stop or make sure he follows me. Instead, I walk toward the center of the floor where there’s a small sitting room overlooking the bay for the residents. It’s far enough to talk without her hearing—there’s a large enough mirror where I can see who’s coming and going—and I can reach my door within seconds if need be. “Tell me.”

  “There’s a new victim.”

  “Fuck.” It’s a rough exhale as I drag a hand over my face. “Where?”

  “The body was found in New Mexico and with a note.”

  “What did it say?”

  “See for yourself.” Weston hands me his phone, and my eyes scan the picture; I begin to shake. Pure fucking lava courses through my veins.

  On a white sheet with a smattering of blood is a line written in black marker. Just one line.

  You can’t keep her from me.

  The plastic in my hand groans, and I give back the phone before it becomes a thousand pieces on the floor. A million scenarios run through my mind within the span of time that Weston takes the phone, and I shift my eyes toward the water not far from my building.

  And through it all, only one thought remains certain…

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  Chapter 4

  Ava

  He walks away without looking back. More importantly, I hate how that makes me feel.

  Alone.

  Full of worry.

  That crippling fear I’ve been fighting back, swallowing down as memories flood my senses, hits me full force in the chest, and I have to hold on tight to the railing to keep myself upright. His facial expression before walking out said it all: confirms that my nightmare—this new reality—isn’t changing anytime soon.

  That Jason is coming for me.

  That something has happened since we left Texas.

  It serves as a reminder of my truth…

  I can’t look at Elijah as anything other than the man set to protect me. I can’t focus on his hypnotic hazel eyes or the way my heart thumps rapidly when they settle on mine. Or how his over six-foot, muscular frame makes me feel delicate and safe.

  How my fingers itch to run through his thick, wavy black hair and pull at the ends to see if he…

  Get it together, Ava. He’s not for you.r />
  I can’t let the butterflies inside my stomach, the ones that dance and make me hyper aware of his every move, lower my guard. Taking in how handsome he is isn’t conducive to staying alive. It’s the opposite; Elijah could be put at risk if I get too close.

  That thought causes a small sob to catch in my throat as my vision becomes a bit fuzzy.

  My life will never be the same. Jason won’t let me go—he told me as much.

  That I’d pay for what I’ve done.

  For being stupid enough to ignore his advances—to try and forget how creeped out he makes me feel—without speaking up.

  “Just breathe. You’re safe, Ava,” I whisper on shaky legs, my chest rapidly rising with every harsh intake of air. Standing is becoming too hard, so I slide down to the floor. Turning with my back to the veranda, I lower my body with my knees bent up and take in a few deep gulps of air, limbs shaking.

  The world around me is a muddle of sounds.

  I’m scared, and time seems to move around me while I’m stuck inside my own head. And yet, when a pair of arms pick me up and hold me close, everything comes back to me.

  The noises. His woodsy masculine scent. A warmth that settles deep into my bones and calms my panic.

  “Elijah.” It leaves me on a breathless whimper, and his arms tighten around me. My head is on his chest, and I’m matching my breathing to the sound of his heart beneath my ear. It helps me focus.

  “I have you, Ava. Just breathe for me.” The chill of his A/C hits my skin and I shiver, burrowing deeper. Eli walks a few steps further into his living room and stops, turning with me in his hold, and sits. I’m astride his lap, clutching his shirt while his hand, the skin a bit rough, runs up and down my back in slow motion. I feel no fear. No discomfort in his hold. “That’s it. Slow and deep…match mine.”

  Up and down, the touch is gentle as his chest expands and I mimic the move. For a while we just sit there, in the quiet of the late afternoon, breathing. He doesn’t rush me, and I don’t want to move from his embrace.

  Instead, I soak up his attention—gorge myself on what can never be.

  What I can’t allow myself to want.

  “Better?” he says a few minutes later. His lips are on the crown of my head, just lightly pressing there.

  “Yeah.” My voice is a bit hoarse, and my throat is dry. I’m thirsty, and he picks up on this.

  Elijah’s quick to pick me up and set me down on the couch beside his now empty spot. “Be right back,” he calls out over his shoulder, entering another room that connects to this one.

  Immediately, I miss his warmth. How good he felt against me. How safe. Christ, I need help. Something can’t be right with me if…

  I hear a cabinet door and then the fridge open right before a crash. The sound makes me jump in my seat, and yet I find myself rushing toward him on still-weak legs. I’m feeling the aftereffects of my anxiety, lethargic now, but can’t stop myself. “You okay in there?”

  “Yes.” There’s a muffled curse, and another item falls. Glass this time, and it shatters. “Just peachy.” He sounds grumpy, and maybe even a little bit cute how he tries to hide whatever’s happening.

  However, I’m not ready for what I encounter upon entering his kitchen. It’s comical, to say the least.

  “How the?” A giggle slips through my lips, and his head snaps in my direction. The expression on his face is one of annoyance, but quickly softens as I take in the hot mess he’s made. “Again, Eli. How?”

  A large Tupperware container full of spaghetti and meatballs is spread about everywhere, splashed on the walls, cabinet doors, and the floor. And on top of that, there’s broken glass and what I think is lemonade from a pitcher.

  I take another step inside the room, but he holds a hand up, stopping me. “Watch your feet,” he grunts, his tone a bit harsh a second before glass crunches beneath my sandals. Bits spread out further, one or two jumping on my toe. Eli sees this and lets out another low fuck before marching over and picking me up.

  His hands on my hips pull a gasp from me, and goose bumps arise on my sensitive skin.

  A shiver rushes through me, but I bite down on my bottom lip to contain the pleasure it brings.

  Why does he affect me this way? Like no man before him.

  For years, I lived and breathed for my shop. No dates, much less time for a relationship. Time and time again, I would say “no” to Jason—and anyone who asked me out—choosing instead to focus on the new sales promotion and flavors for each month.

  I focused solely on what I could create inside my kitchen to entice my clientele.

  Besides, while I’ve never slept with a man, I’ve owned a few vibrators over the years. My B.O.B. did the job of taking care of my virginity just fine. No fumbling or nerves. Just me at my own pace without any outside pressure.

  I’ve been more than content to fully take care of myself. To be alone.

  I’m not a prude, just never been interested. Until now.

  “Where did you go, beautiful?” he says, bringing me back to the present. I’m sitting in the middle of his island now, legs slightly spread, with Elijah standing almost between them.

  And I say almost because even though his upper body is leaning toward me, his hips stay a few inches from my knees. Close enough that I feel his heat, but not touching. Even his hands stay away from my flesh.

  He keeps one on each side of me, on the counter, palms facing downward.

  “Nowhere?” It comes out as a question, and he raises a brow. “I just spaced out.”

  “Don’t lie.” My face heats up, and he smirks a bit. “Share with the class.”

  “Just thinking about the mess you made. How dirty you are?” Something flashes in his eyes; they darken a bit at my words, and my blush deepens. “I meant your shirt. You have stains...not that you’re dirty, as in…sexually.”

  He chuckles. I’m becoming flustered, and he knows it. “You don’t say.”

  “Christ...” I throw my hands up, almost knocking him in the chin “...I’m talking about the room. Not you. It’s filthy in here.”

  “Quit while you’re ahead.”

  “I’m done now.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back, ignoring his stare. Once more I take in the grimy surfaces around me while ignoring his presence. And it’s while I look around the room that a few things become clear: my luggage and Weston are missing.

  “Your bags are near the entrance, and the ranger had to go. Something about his wife.”

  “How did you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Not that hard when you whisper those thoughts aloud.” Eli is a bit smug, and I do something that’s completely out of my norm. I flick his forehead, and hard. Hard enough that he jumps back a bit and narrows his eyes at me.

  There’s a split second between my hit and the reaction where I see that he wants to retaliate, but before he can, I jump down from the countertop and walk around him. The space between us is something I need.

  To think. To clear the fog he creates.

  “Where are your cleaning supplies and mop?” I ask while surveying the room once more. More glass crunches beneath my feet as I walk around him toward his fridge. It’s even worse over here and the food is drying, becoming gunky against the stainless steel of the appliances.

  “I’ll clean up after you leave the kitchen.”

  “No.”

  “No?” He sounds as though he finds my response amusing.

  “That’s right...I said no.” Turning around, I face him with a hand on my hip. His lips quirk up into a full grin. “What do you find so amusing, Ford?”

  At the mention of his last name, his eyes darken a bit and I unconsciously lick my lips. “Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” He takes a step forward.

  “Quit changing the subject.” Matching his, I take a back, and then another. Eli advances and his eyes are predatory, something that should send me run
ning, and yet, I don’t. It’s thrilling. He’s taken away my fear and replaced it with a feeling of euphoria that’s confusing and, even more worrisome, welcomed.

  I can’t. Shouldn’t. Moreover, I want it. His attention.

  “You’re not cleaning this, Ava. Go to the living room and wait for me.”

  “I’ll get this tidied faster than you,” I say a bit breathlessly. Then, because life needs to remind me of just how wrong this is, I take two steps back, bumping into the counter area beside the fridge.

  A mistake that puts a halt to our flirtation—this moment—as a glass tips over, rolling onto the floor beside my feet where it shatters into a million pieces.

  My reaction is to scream and jump. To think the worst.

  Elijah is across the room and has me in his arms before I can blink. Cuddling me to his chest, his lips press against my forehead. “It’s just a glass. Nothing happened.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t,” he growls low, hugging me closer. Comforting me. “You could break everything in here and I wouldn’t care. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you get hurt?” Not that he waits for my reply; the man kneels at my feet, looking for any visible cuts.

  “No, but I am more embarrassed by my reaction.” Heat blooms across my cheeks and to the tip of my ears. “Can we just drop it and clean up? Please.”

  He makes a sound at the back of his throat, a mixture between a grunt and a groan that forces my eyes to his. “You hungry?”

  My stomach rumbles then, and the blush heats further. “A little.”

  Eli raises a brow from his position. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “A real meal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two days ago.”

  Once again, I am lifted onto a countertop, which pulls a squeak from me. This time, though, he doesn’t linger near me. “Stay,” is all he says before leaving the room for a minute or two. When he’s back, there’s a mop, broom, and a bucket in his hands along with a few rags.

  Placing them near the sink, he opens the cabinet below and pulls out a few spray bottles with different-colored liquids inside.