War of Hearts

by Nina Levine

  Thirty minutes later, we pull into the underground car park of a medical specialist centre. Zara eyes me as she leaves her car. No smile, but none of her bullshit either which makes my day.

  I then spend the next hour and a bit hanging out waiting for her. When she returns to her car, she keeps her head down and doesn’t make eye contact. Her shoulders are hunched and my eyes are drawn to the loose black dress she’s wearing. It hides her body in ways I don’t often see women her age doing. The thing it doesn’t do, though, is hide her beauty. No fucking wonder King pulled me aside all those months ago and told me not to look at her.

  Zara is beautiful with her flawless skin, full lips, blue eyes, and long blonde hair. It’s an effortless beauty that shines even when she’s vomiting all over someone. Add to that her curves, and she’s your classic blonde bombshell.

  I wait for her to pull out so I can follow, but her car won’t start. It’s an old shitbox Ford that sounds like it’s on its last legs; I’m not surprised it won’t start. Leaving my bike, I walk to her door and bend my face to meet her gaze. Tears are streaming down her face, and she’s staring at me with a look that says “don’t fucking mention the fact I’m crying,” so I don’t. “Pop the bonnet.”

  She swallows and nods, moving to do as I say.

  I lift the bonnet and find an engine that’s seen better days, not to mention spark plugs that need changing. Fuck knows what else I’d find if I keep looking. However, King calls, distracting me from the car.

  “Change of plans for tonight. I need you at the clubhouse after Mace takes over.”

  “Okay.”

  As I’m shoving my phone back in my pocket, Zara tries the car again. The engine cranks over like it has been, but this time the car manages to start.

  I put the bonnet down and walk back to her window. Still not mentioning the tears that continue to track down her face, I say, “You need to get your spark plugs replaced and your engine checked over. It’s a mess.”

  She grips the steering wheel. “Yeah, it’s on my to-do list.”

  Her words are stiff. Forced. And I sense she’d rather be doing anything other than talking to me, so I tap her roof and say, “Gimme a minute.”

  She waits for me to start my bike before pulling out of her park. I then follow her back to her place and park my bike out the front of it, eyeing the street both ways to check for trouble. Zara parks in the driveway and hurries inside. She keeps her head down while madly wiping her tears and I wonder what the hell she just did at that specialist centre to cause her so much upset.

  An hour or so passes in which nothing much happens. Zara’s street is a quiet one so I see two cars only. It makes my job easy, but boring as hell. I’d rather be watching Hagarty. At least he’s on the move a lot more, which gives me something to do.

  I’m in the middle of watching two teens coming down the street when Zara walks my way. Her face is expressionless. Her arms are wrapped around her body. She looks anything but confident in her approach and that surprises me because each time we’ve interacted, she’s seemed sure of herself.

  I lift my chin at her. “You good?”

  She nods and drops her arms. “Yeah.” She pauses and when she speaks next, her voice has lost the tension threading through it, as has her body language. “I, umm, I just wanted to see if you’d like some cake. I made some.”

  “Is it chocolate?”

  A smile peeks out from her sad eyes. “Yes. And vanilla, and red velvet, and lemon. Pick whatever you like.” Her smile grows and she shrugs. “Or have them all.”

  “You made all that today?” I have no idea how long cakes take to make, but it seems like it’d be an effort to make four cakes in just over an hour.

  “No, I made them on Saturday night. You know, the day you woke me up like a crazy man storming into my bedroom. That day.” She’s bringing up shit that pissed her off at the time, but she seems anything but pissed off today.

  “Which is the best?”

  “Well, my favourite is always chocolate, but I really recommend the lemon cake this time. It’s really freaking good.” Another smile lights up her face like nothing else.

  Fuck me.

  I’ve only ever known Zara to be in my face. Difficult. This softer side of hers is something else.

  She turns to go inside but glances back at me. “You wanna come inside and eat?”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to stay out here and keep an eye on shit.”

  “Okay. Do you drink coffee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll make some for you to have with your cake.”

  With that, she’s gone and I’m left staring after her, trying like hell to keep my eyes off that ass of hers. She might have it covered up with that loose dress, but even that can’t hide what I know is under there.

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I do my best to put her body out of my mind. This is not the time for it. Or the girl. I need to remember who I’m dealing with here: King’s daughter.

  She’s been gone for just over five minutes when a hotted-up Commodore pulls into her driveway and two dickheads get out. I know they’re dickheads just by looking at them because they remind me of my brother at their age. And while they don’t look to be a threat to Zara or Holly, I’m not taking any chances, so I jog up the yard towards the front door of the house and intercept them.

  The taller one with dirty blond hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in days eyes me with the kind of disrespect that would earn King’s disapproval, so my guess is he wouldn’t want this kid around his daughter. “You right, mate?” he says, attitude rolling off him.

  Before I can answer, Zara’s voice sounds from behind me. “Tommy? What are you doing here?”

  Tommy continues watching me for a beat before dragging his gaze to Zara. “Haven’t seen you since last week, Zara. Where you been?” This little shit wants in her pants, but from the signals she’s putting out, it doesn’t seem like the feeling is reciprocated.

  She comes to stand next to me, her arms wrapped around her body again like they were before she loosened up with me. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what? And why didn’t you show at my party on Saturday night?”

  Her arms don’t fall to her side; they stay glued around her body. “I told you I’m not interested and I meant it.”

  He extends his arm, reaching for her, but I block him, stepping forward and pushing his arm away. When he scowls at me, I say, “She said she’s not interested. You should leave.”

  I have his full attention now, as well as the other guy’s. They’re both glaring at me like they’re ready for a fight.

  “And who the fuck are you, asshole?” Tommy demands, before suddenly swinging his head back towards Zara. “Is he why you’re not into me anymore? Are you fucking him?”

  Zara’s arms finally drop and the fire I know her for roars back to life. “No I’m not fucking him and even if I were it’d be none of your business, Tommy, because we’re not together!”

  His lip curls and his eyes bore into her with anger before he looks at me. “She’s been playing me for months now. You know about that while you’ve been fucking her? I should have known. Everyone fucking knows that Zara Bennett screws around.”

  I try to curb my intense dislike of this kid because the last thing I wanna do right now is get into a fight with a teenager who has no hope of winning that fight. But he’s the exact kind of teenage boy I’ve never had any time for; not when I was a teen and sure as fuck not since then.

  Zara steps forward and shoves him hard while losing her shit. “Don’t you ever say that again! I don’t screw around!” He stumbles backwards, and she just keeps going for him, shoving him again, this time into his friend. “I fucking hate you, Tommy! I have no idea why I even liked you in the first place.”

  When she slaps him, I move into action, sliding my arm around her waist, scooping her up and hauling her away from him. I pin my gaze to his and roar, “Get the fuck out of here and don
’t come back!”

  Zara fights me, trying like hell to escape my hold, but I keep her tightly against me. Her legs kick, her arms thrash in the air, and she demands, “Put me down!”

  Tommy sends me another filthy scowl. “She’s all yours. I wouldn’t let her suck my dick now even if she begged me to.”

  The shit coming out of his mouth stirs my anger, but again, I fight it. I’m here to do a job, not get into Zara’s mess. The minute I take my attention off my job is the minute an enemy can get an in. I refuse to let that happen so instead of letting my fury out, I bark, “Leave!” I then put Zara down and take hold of both her arms as I get in her face. “Stop fucking fighting me. I’m helping you.”

  Her eyes blaze with fire. “I don’t need your help, Fury. I can fight my own battles.”

  I arch a brow. “Yeah? You can, huh?”

  She stands her ground, shoulders squaring like she’s going into battle. “Yes!”

  The sound of car doors slamming and an engine coming to life barely registers as we face off. “I beg to fucking differ. If I wasn’t here, fuck knows the shit you would have just gotten yourself into. And let’s not forget the night of the party. You weren’t doing so well by yourself that night.”

  “I would have been fine, so fuck you. And seriously, you should just leave. It’s been days and we’re fine here. No one is after us. We don’t need you.”

  “Grow the fuck up, princess. You do need me and I’m not going anywhere. Although, trust me when I say, I wish I could leave. Guarding your ass is the last fucking thing I wish I was doing.”

  Her breaths are coming faster, her anger touching every inch of her as she glowers at me. “And here I was thinking maybe I’d judged you incorrectly before today. Turns out I was wrong.”

  With that, she turns and stalks back inside.

  Christ.

  Teenage drama is something I have zero tolerance for. The sooner this gig is over, the fucking better.

  6

  Zara

  * * *

  Today has been a shitty, shitty day and I am so ready for it to end. However, it’s only just 4:00 p.m., so unless I obliterate myself with alcohol, there are still many hours left until I can say goodbye to the day. And even then, with the way I’ve not been sleeping lately, I’ve got a long stretch of time before it’s tomorrow morning.

  I’m trying really hard not to think about how pissed off with Fury I am after what just happened, but it’s impossible. Every cell in my body is alive with that anger. I don’t know what it is about him, but he has this way of frustrating and infuriating me that I’ve never experienced before. I mean, guys like Tommy get to me, but I just let that shit go. With Fury, I’m finding myself thinking about him over and over.

  I want to go back outside and give him a piece of my mind, but I know I’ll just end up even more pissed off. Fury doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who backs down easily. He’ll probably just keep arguing with me and not allow me to get my side across.

  After pacing in the kitchen thinking about my options of coping with my frustration, my psychologist’s advice from earlier today comes to mind. I didn’t love talking with her, but she did give me some ideas to try.

  Exercise. She told me to consider using it as a tool to help my anxiety. I’ll go for a run.

  It’s been months since I’ve gone running. I used to love it, but uni kicked my butt this year and I stopped doing it at some point while study took over. Maybe it will be the thing I’m looking for; the thing to stop the never-ending cycle of thoughts that fill my mind and keep both my fear and my shame so loud and alive I can never escape them.

  I dig out my running shorts and top, put on my running shoes, find my Nike cap, and head outside. Fury watches as I jog down the front path and then cut across the yard. He doesn’t say anything that I hear, but I see him muttering to himself. I then realise he’s following me. He’s jogging behind me. I’m not sure why I hadn’t thought that would happen. And while I kinda like the idea of having someone with me—because I can’t help but feel the fear when I’m out on my own—I’m not on board with it being him.

  Stopping, I spin to face him. He comes to an abrupt stop as I say, “Seriously? You’re going to run with me?”

  He looks as impressed with the situation as I am. “It’s my job.”

  “I won’t tell King if you take a break and just let me do my thing.”

  He shakes his head like he finds me ridiculous. “And how fucking well do you think it’ll go down if something happens to you while I’m taking a break? For fuck’s sake, Zara, think about what you’re saying.”

  “I am thinking about what I’m saying.” Just not in the way he means. God, why does he have to be right about this? He’s so damn annoying.

  “You’re not.” He jerks his chin at me. “Turn around and get back to what you were doing. This conversation is a waste of time.”

  He did not just say that.

  I place my hands on my hips. “I get that you’re doing your job, but why do you have to be such an asshole about it sometimes? Telling me I’m having a conversation that’s a waste of your time is so damn rude.”

  He works his jaw. “I’m just stating facts; it is a waste of my time. Of both our time.”

  “Yeah, well your delivery could do with some work. Trust me on that.”

  Before he can say something else that’s rude, I spin back around and return to jogging.

  I then spend the next hour trying to keep my thoughts off him and the fact he’s right behind me, but I fail. Epically. He’s all I can think about.

  I remember the first time I laid eyes on Fury. It was at Cade’s birthday party earlier this year when he walked in with the kind of purposeful, confident stride that always catches my attention. He’d been intent on finding King, and I’d tracked him for the five minutes he’d stayed. It hadn’t been long enough, and he was gone before I’d really had much time to soak him in. What I had soaked in—his tattooed muscles, thick blond hair, and determined aura—had given me plenty to fantasise about. Since then, the only times I’ve seen him have been at the clubhouse, fighting out the back with other members, or sitting in the bar with a club whore draped over him.

  I’ve had a crush on him since that first day. I even begged Holly to get me the goss on him, but all she gave me was his name—Ryan Hayes—and that he keeps mostly to himself. Now, after that party last week, I’m freaking pissed off with him, but I can’t get rid of my attraction. It’s one of the craziest and most annoying things about the guy. I want to be able to look at him and feel instant dislike, and yet I don’t.

  We run for about an hour. Unfortunately, I have to admit to myself that I’m relieved Fury is with me. Since the mugging, my thoughts are so paranoid and focussed on believing people I don’t know are going to harm me that I’m fairly sure if he wasn’t with me, I would have lost my shit on the run. I jogged past a few people and instantly felt the panic in my gut; just knowing Fury was behind me helped ease that panic.

  As I approach my house, I slow and face him while continuing to jog backwards. It’s a super hot day and there hasn’t really been a cool afternoon change, and Fury is showing signs of that heat. Not prepared for a run, he’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. I feel sorry for him, but I’ll never tell him that.

  “What time are you here till?” I ask.

  “Five or so.” He’s broken a sweat on our run, but the guy is fit; he’s nowhere near as worked out from it as I am.

  “Do you run much?”

  “Some.”

  “Do you only say a lot of words when you’re having a go at me?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’m not sure what I was hoping for with this conversation, so I turn back around and jog the rest of the way home. When we arrive, I go inside without another word and fill a glass with cold water. Taking it back outside, I shove it at him. “Here. Maybe bring some running gear next time. And a drink bottle. King can’t afford to lose his star member to heatstr
oke.”

  I don’t wait for his reply or for him to finish his drink. It’s way too distracting being so close to him while he’s in a post-run state. And that’s while his body is covered by jeans. I can only imagine how distracting it will be if he does bring running clothes. Maybe I need to reassess my plans to take running back up while he’s on duty.

  7

  Fury

  * * *

  Christ.

  Today has turned into one big clusterfuck. If I’m to survive this job of watching Zara, I need to figure out the shit going on in my head. And I need to do that fast.

  She drives me to distraction with her attitude. However, that’s not the thing I don’t think I can survive. No, it’s my goddam attraction to her that I think may be my undoing. And fucking hell, I can’t figure out why in the fuck I’m suddenly so drawn to her. Especially since she’s given me nothing but hell this afternoon. Not to mention the fact she’s way younger than any woman I’ve ever been into.

  Running behind her for an hour will do that to a man.

  She wore pink shorts and a white T-shirt while running. Neither were fitted. Neither were sexy, but hell, Zara can’t hide her beauty even if she tried. Her body is toned as hell, her ass is a ten, and her tits look to be the perfect handful. I’ll never know how fucking perfect because she’s off fucking limits.

  I need a cold shower and not just because I’ve run for an hour in the heat. When she jogged backwards facing me, I had to work like fuck to keep my eyes off her tits. I’m not sure what’s harder at this point: dealing with her attitude or keeping my eyes off her. If King knew half the shit running through my head after this afternoon, he’d make sure I had trouble breathing.

  I’ve never been more relieved than when Mace shows up to take over not long after Zara leaves me alone outside.