The Danger You Know

by Lily White

  “Oh, my God.”

  I’m too afraid to flip open the wallet, but I have to know. Have to see the truth of just how many of my friends who’d left me behind hadn’t been given the actual choice.

  Ripping the wallet open, bile shoots up my throat to find Jason Ayer’s ID staring up at me.

  He was a fucking abusive creep, but he didn’t deserve to die for it.

  But he’d left that night after sitting in my driveway when we fought, and he never contacted me again.

  Dropping the wallet, I sit back and run my eyes over all the stuff still tucked away.

  How many people did Ari kill because of me?

  Would he kill me, too, now that I know about it?

  I have to get out of this place, have to get help. And the only way I can do that is to somehow get Ari’s keys. I still won’t be able to access the elevator, but I can unlock the stairs, run down thirty-five flights and beg somebody to help me.

  It’s the only way.

  With that thought in mind, I stop worrying about the stuff stacked up and hidden away that proves how well Ari knows me. I start looking around the penthouse instead.

  I start deciding what will be the best weapon to knock him out and take his keys to escape him.

  Having barely escaped a man who is dangerous in his own way, I’m not about to lie down and die for another who is a danger I never saw coming.

  Ari

  There she is.

  Reclining against my headboard, I watch Adeline through my cameras, my laptop balanced on my thighs as she begins tearing through the cabinets to see what other secrets they might hold.

  A lot. I’m not going to lie about that. I’ve always had a bit of a problem when it comes to her.

  It didn’t take her long to start the process once I’d reminded her she’s trapped, her eyes rounding as she opens box after box, anger staining her cheeks pink as she discovers everything I’ve stolen.

  The anger becomes panic the minute she finds the box with Jason’s wallet and earring. I shouldn’t have kept the mementos. It’s stupid to save any evidence that connects me to a crime. But after watching what it does to her to learn the truth of his disappearance, I’m glad I did.

  It’s the truth that finally breaks her, not in spirit, not like Grant. He wanted to take away everything that strengthened her, and I’m simply giving it back.

  She knows she’s facing danger, and with that in mind, she pushes away from the cabinets to start searching the penthouse for weapons.

  Adeline never needed a hero, and she’s finally unearthed her villain. It’s enough to drag her out, enough to make her fight.

  It’s about fucking time.

  Still, I have the upper hand, and it amuses me to see her pace the large space, creeping from room to room in an effort to find anything she can use to hurt me.

  My brow arches when she slips a butcher knife from the block in the kitchen, tests the weight in her hand, and then moves quickly to hide it beneath the couch, I assume just in case she needs it.

  Stabbing me is a bit harsh. I’m the man that saved her life, after all.

  Adeline then glances at the fireplace, runs over to pick up the iron poker, swings it once, then smiles.

  It’s almost as if she’s enjoying this.

  I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  My lips curl regardless. If I wasn’t watching, she might have gained an advantage, but she’s already lost this fight now that I know what to expect.

  I’ll let her think she has a shot, though. Build her up some before winner takes all.

  After stowing the poker near the doorway leading from the hall, Adeline continues searching and gathering heavy objects to plant in corners and other places. She must be expecting a full on war given what she’s doing, but it won’t go that far.

  Thankfully, she’s never had access to my bedroom where all the real weapons are stored.

  Adeline pauses for a brief second, casts an eye across the room looking for anything else, and then begins the process of making changes to her battle plan, digging the knife out from under the couch, and jamming it in between the sofa cushions before doing the same with the iron poker.

  Now, she’s ready, and feeling as such, she sits on the couch to wait for me.

  It sucks for her that I’m ready, too.

  I give her a minute to let the anxiety grow. Her foot is tapping a mile a minute, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She’ll chew the damn thing off if I don’t start this process soon.

  Sighing, I close the computer and roll my head over my shoulders. Pushing to my feet, I leave my room and peek my head around the doorway leading into the living room. She’s still on the couch, her blue eyes sliding to mine as soon as I step out and lean a shoulder against the wall.

  “Did you have fun destroying my cabinets?”

  She blinks in my direction, her shoulders tense, jaw set.

  There’s still a mess all over the floor. Boxes torn open, paper scattered, everything dumped in place as if she’d intended to go through it and had lost the nerve. I make a point of looking at it, then back to her.

  “Did you learn everything you wanted to know?”

  “I learned enough,” she snaps.

  Grinning at the hitch in her voice, I look at the mess again. “And are you planning on cleaning up the mess anytime soon?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  There’s challenge in her expression, the type that would have any person storming in her direction to force the issue. She’s luring me to where she’s armed and ready.

  Very smart, Adeline...

  “I guess that means I’ll have to make you clean it up.”

  Her throat moves to swallow. “Guess so.”

  I approach her with a ground-eating stride, one hand moving to knock away the knife she brings up with one hand, while I block the swing of the iron poker just enough to soften the blow with the other.

  Shoved back, I give her enough room to lunge from the couch. She swings the poker again with a grunt, and I take the hit to the shoulder. It hurts like a bitch, but not enough to knock me down.

  I fall onto my back anyway, only to give her a sense of accomplishment before the advantage I have is out in the open.

  I’m calm while she’s frantic. I’m thinking while she’s only reacting on instinct and fear. Still, she’s fighting, and that’s all I care about at this point.

  Adeline brings the poker up with two hands as if to swing down at my head, her lips pulled into a sneer, her eyes narrowed, but I reach up in time to grip the rod and pull her down with it, her hands finally letting go when I roll her over, straddle her hips and slam her wrists to the floor above her head.

  Lowering my head down I bite the tip of her nose, chuckling when she bucks against me trying to dislodge my weight.

  “Do you really think you can win?”

  “Get the fuck off me,” she yells, still angry, her face a deep sheen of red.

  I wonder when she’ll figure out I’m just toying with her.

  “I’ll give you another chance. But if I win, I get whatever I want when this is over. Is it a deal?”

  “Get off me,” she roars, so far gone in her bid to kill me, she doesn’t notice the smirk on my face.

  I roll off her and push to my feet, watching her scramble away before pushing to hers. She runs for the knife first, launching it at me so hard that I have to jump sideways to keep from being hit with it.

  A glass vase flies past my head next to shatter on a far wall, followed by a heavy paperweight that would have hurt like hell if it hit me.

  This is honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time, so I let her keep going, not giving a shit about what she’s breaking.

  “You son of a fucking bitch,” she screams when throwing a heavy bookend at me. “Let me the fuck go!”

  Dodging that, I smile and laugh to see the little monster rear her head.

  The girl I once knew.

  The nightma
re.

  The woman she’d been before Grant Cabot broke her down and drove the wild spirit out of her.

  Adeline

  Now?

  Is he fucking kidding me?

  Now is when he decides to finally stretch those cruel lips into a true smile? Now, when my anger and rage is at a boiling point, and I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me? Now is when he has an expression of such pure joy that I want to stop trying to kill him and soak in the moment?

  What a fucking psychopathic prick!

  I lob another heavy object at Ari’s head that he easily dodges, laughter shaking his shoulders when the object hits one of the photographs on the wall, knocks it loose and the frame crashes to the floor.

  “Nothing about this is funny, you fucking lunatic!”

  I throw more shit at him, the muscles in my shoulder and arm burning as we circle each other in the room. I can’t understand why he looks so proud of himself. And I absolutely hate how, beneath my rage, there is still a vein of attraction.

  Because when Ari smiles, it’s fucking blinding. Staggering, really. Dimples that I never noticed before indenting his cheeks, his grey eyes so bright and clear that they no longer terrify me. Instead, they draw me in.

  He’s not supposed to be enjoying this. He’s supposed to be angry. Yet all he does is dodge each weapon I throw, moving his body in such a way that I’m forced to keep backing off until a point when he has me cornered.

  Practically dancing through the chaos, Ari makes it clear he has every advantage. Dexterity. Speed. Strength. And a calm mind that is so true in its focus that it only serves to muddy the waters of mine.

  And that’s when he attacks finally, when I’m so angry I’m seeing red, when I’m so out of control that I’m making mistakes.

  Easily lifting me off my feet, he drops us both to the floor, his knees straddling my hips while he pins my body to the floor.

  How he manages it without hurting me, I have no clue, but he does, as if this was his plan all along.

  I never stood a chance against him, but rather than beating the shit out of me like Grant would have done, Ari stares down with amusement in his expression, the fight nothing more than foreplay to a man who has no morality at all.

  He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head again, his body leaning over, his mouth so close I think he’ll kiss me. I lift my head to bite him, and he backs off just enough to stay close while protecting his face, that damn smile shining down at me as a tease.

  “Are you done yet?”

  “No!” I scream while he stays perfectly calm. I’m sweating and panting from the exertion, and he looks like he’s just come back from a relaxing vacation.

  It only pisses me off more because anything would have been better than seeing the wicked determination he has to turn my own rage against me.

  My head falls back against the floor when that realization hits.

  He’s doing this on purpose. Again. Making me his puppet. Again.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  I manage to yank one of my wrists free, and I punch him in the face, his head whipping left before he slowly turns back to look at me, his jaw stretching from side to side to ease the pain of the hit.

  He catches my arm before I can punch him again, his fingers clamping down tighter as he adjusts my wrists to hold them down with one hand, his other reaching between us to trap my chin and hold my head in place.

  “Doing what? Tell me exactly what you think it is I’m doing to you.”

  “You’ve killed people,” I yell, my throat sore from the volume of my voice.

  “Let’s talk about who I’ve killed. I think we’ve already covered Tyler Dixon, his crimes, his victimization of women. Was I wrong for ending his life? And what about Jason Ayers? That asshole made it a game to use women and abuse them. You weren’t the only one, even though you thought you were. When he bruised your face, I was fucking done with him.”

  Tears well in my eyes, hot and thick. Knowing he killed people is hard enough, but to hear him admit it with no guilt at all? It’s terrifying.

  “Why? Because you don’t like people breaking your things?”

  The smile fades, his gaze caressing my face with such tenderness that my heart warms at it. I’ve never had a person look at me the way Ari does. And I know it’s fucked up to enjoy it. But the heart is a fickle fucking creature that bends the mind. Defies logic. And spits in the face of everything that is wrong and right.

  Ari looks at me like I’m valuable. Like I’m some rare, mythical being. Whether that’s from his insanity or mine for even seeing it, the expression is still there. The truth of it.

  But that still doesn’t excuse what he’s done.

  Does it?

  “I don’t like it when people hurt you. I won’t apologize for that. Ryan Knox, let’s talk about him.”

  Ryan? Holy shit. He killed Ryan? I always wondered why he suddenly up and left. Even his roommate didn’t understand. Nobody ever reported him missing, I don’t think. We just assumed he took off because of some messed up drug deal.

  “Ryan was your supplier for a good several months. That alone pissed me off, and I stole as many of those drugs from you as I could.”

  My eyes round. Son of a bitch. I thought I’d misplaced those.

  “But then Ryan decided to take on a new client. A thirteen year old girl that he intentionally knocked out with the drugs he gave her before fucking her while she was passed out. She couldn’t go home and tell Mommy what happened, not without admitting why she was there. And the asshole knew that. He squealed like a stuck pig when I decided to end his career.”

  Anger sparks inside me, not at the fact Ari killed Ryan, but instead for what Ryan did to that poor girl.

  Fuck! What is he doing to me? This is not okay.

  “And the only other friend of yours that I’ve killed is Preston Cotter. Would you like to know what he had planned for you? What he had done to other women before you?”

  Preston. Crap. I try to put a face with the name, but I’m drawing a blank. Ari must know that. His lips curl when my brows tug together in confusion, his eyes searching mine for some tiny spark of recognition.

  Finding none, he tells me what I can’t remember.

  “You were drunk one night at a bar with your friend, Melanie. She took off with a guy several hours into the night and left you with Preston. What you didn’t know is that he had three other friends at that bar, and when he offered to take you home, he never intended to actually take you there. Fortunately for you, his group had a dumb habit of discussing their plans when people were around who could hear them talking.”

  I feel deflated by what he’s telling me, by how close I’d come to being hurt or worse because of the constant partying when I was younger.

  Ari’s hand moves so that his palm is warm against my cheek, a gentle touch. “If protecting you was wrong, then it is what it is. You were wild, Adeline-“

  “Which is why I needed to grow up!”

  He blinks at the interruption. “Which is why you needed to be smarter, but you were young. I saw past that. I watched out for you.”

  “You stalked me! How can you not see the problem with all of this? What kind of devil are you that you can think any of this is acceptable?”

  Grey eyes glimmering, he brushes a thumb over my bottom lip, his gaze locking to it for a moment before lifting to mine again.

  Ari’s voice is a deep vibration over my skin when he answers, “I guess that’s the thing with enticing a devil to love. We’ll go to the depths of Hell for you without any concern for whether it’s right or wrong.”

  Another brush of the pad of his thumb over my mouth and I shiver at the feel of it, my anger bleeding out while something else takes over. I’m suddenly hyperaware of the feel of his fingers on my wrists, the masculine scent of him that is a balm to my soul. The weight of him against my body, the heat that rolls over my skin from where he leans over me.

  I want to hate him. F
ear him. Be angry at him for what he’s done.

  Ari has always been a presence I wasn’t aware I knew about. A freaking shadow hovering over me, fighting for me, watching out for all the other dangers staring me in the face.

  Still, it doesn’t make sense.

  “Why me? Why not some other woman?”

  A slow blink, dark lashes framing eyes that should be illegal, his mouth pulling into that arrogant smirk that does crazy things to my body.

  “Are you kidding me? Give me the name of some other woman like you. You’ve been a pain in my ass, Adeline. For far too fucking long. Don’t play stupid that you don’t know you’re different from the rest. You’ve filled out a hundred journals about it. Your pen shredding paper about finding someone who can see all your crazy thoughts and secrets and want you because of them. You’re fucking nuts. But so am I. So, now you have that man staring you in the face and you want to question him about it? All those parts that Grant wanted to strip from you were the parts I loved. And I’m giving them back. Because you aren’t you without them.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks, partly because of the adrenaline still choking me, but also because I shouldn’t feel this way about a man who has done so much wrong.

  But I can’t help it. I can’t deny it. Parts of me burn when Ari touches me. The anxiety quiets, and it feels right in a way that is so utterly wrong.

  He stares at me silently, his gaze tracing the lines of my face.

  “Are you done fighting me now?”

  I want to be. But there’s something inside me that won’t stop. Something that keeps telling me this is so insanely wrong that I’d be an idiot to accept it.

  “No,” I whisper, both hating and loving how the answer returns the smile to his face.

  “Good,” he croons, his voice a seductive purr. “I like it when you fight.”

  His mouth brushes mine and I snap my teeth at him. It only makes him smile more. Fingers locking over my jaw to keep me from doing it again, he bites down on my bottom lip, licking the sting before kissing me so deep that I’m helpless to the slide of his seductive tongue against mine.

  Ari breaks the kiss and stares down at me, something unsaid curving his lips in a tempting tease. My pulse pounds in my throat, the rush of blood like thunder in my head until he releases my wrists and pushes to his feet.