by Eden Summers
“You’re denying me?”
“No.” He grabs my hands, tangling our fingers. “I’m telling you it’s not necessary. We’re taking this seriously, Pen. We’re going to cover all our bases, which starts with moving everyone to Torian’s house. That includes his sisters, our brothers, Hunter, Sarah, Stella and Tobias. It’s not a good idea to have you carrying a gun around those kids.”
“Tobias is going to be there? I’m going to see him?”
“Yes. We’ll all be living under the same roof for a while, which means it’s not smart to have guns in the hands of someone untrained.”
“Then train me,” I beg. “Nobody will protect Tobias like I will. I’d give my life—”
“And I’d give mine.” He speaks over me. “For him. And you.”
I sit back on my haunches, sliding my hands from his. “But I won’t make mistakes.”
He pulls away and I steel myself against his pained expression, not letting the guilt sink in.
This morning, I’d woken with a smile. I’d been a different woman. Hope had flown through me. I’d been wholeheartedly adamant my life had turned a corner.
Now that’s all gone.
Everything is—the security, the glimpse of positivity.
“I didn’t mean that. I just…” I wince.
“I get that you’re mad. You have every right to be. But you’ll see once we get there that you don’t need to protect yourself or anyone else.” He rises to his feet and grabs my bags from the bed. “Grab whatever else you need and meet me in the garage. We’re leaving as soon as Hunt and Deck get here to escort us.”
He strides from the room without a backward glance, the slightest slump to his shoulders the only evidence I kicked him where it hurts.
I didn’t want to upset him. That wasn’t my intent. It’s the insanity building inside me that demands to be heard. There are too many thoughts. Overwhelming questions. A punishing outlook.
I push to my feet, snatch the last of my toiletries from the bathroom, and yank on a comfy pair of Sketchers before following him. I run into Cole in the hall, the two of us walking in tense silence until we reach the garage where Luca shows me to the back of his Suburban.
“You’re going to have to lay low.” He opens the door and waves a hand for me to get inside. “I don’t have all the bells and whistles Hunt’s car has. So you need to spread yourself out along the back seat and stay out of view.”
“What does that mean?” I climb into the vehicle and swivel to face him.
“It means my car isn’t bulletproof.” He closes me inside and returns to his conversation with Cole, the two of them murmuring in low tones before Luca skirts the hood to get in the driver’s side. “It’s time to get down, Pen.” He opens the garage with a remote, the mechanical burr slow and ominous.
“What about you?” I meet his gaze in the rear-view and appreciate the lack of deserved hostility. “What’s the point of worrying about me when it’s just as likely you’ll get shot?”
“Nobody is getting shot. It’s only a precaution.” He makes the Suburban grumble to life and reverses into the bright sunlight. “Now, Pen.”
I hesitate, glancing through the side window to see Cole follow us down the drive on foot, the garage door closing in front of us. “Are you sure you’re safe?”
“We’ve practically got a presidential escort. Hunter’s going to be in front, with your brother and Torian in the cars behind. We’re literally sandwiched between trigger-happy assholes. They won’t let anything happen to us.”
I look through the back window, confirming the cars are ready and waiting.
They’re taking this seriously. Even if they don’t believe me, they’re at least taking precautions. “Can you let me know if you see anything?”
“I’m not going to see anything. Just lay down and enjoy the ride.”
I sigh and stretch along the seat, resting my head on my bent arm as Luca reverses the car onto the street.
We don’t talk. I’m left to fidget in silence, nothing but crunching asphalt and traffic in the distance to keep me company for miles.
I try not to let my thoughts wander. I seriously work hard to concentrate because I know the darkness of instability waits in the wings.
All the nightmarish thoughts are there. Hovering. Impatient for their time to strike.
“How much farther?” I raise my head to peek out the side window.
“Stay down. It’s only a few more blocks.” He turns on the radio, the gentle hum of an unfamiliar song doing nothing to soothe me. “You’ll get to see Tobias soon.”
I wait for excitement to flood me.
Instead, nervous apprehension weighs heavy in my belly. I love that boy, but I don’t know what he’s been told over the past weeks. About me. About the deaths of Chloe or Abi. Or if he’ll be informed of Robert’s presence in Portland.
Our reunion will either be shrouded in secrets or tears. Neither option is comforting.
“Only one more block.” Luca makes a turn, then another, still without a care in the world. “We’re here.”
The car jolts as if we’ve risen onto a driveway and I cautiously sit as we pass through gates attached to a large brick wall.
The setting is reminiscent of my hell in Greece. It’s just another set of gates and walls to lock me inside.
“You’ll like it here.” Somehow, Luca soothes my thoughts. “It’s massive, with enough room for you to hide from anyone you don’t want to speak to.”
He drives the car around the front of a two-story mansion, the manicured gardens perfectly symmetrical with their trimmed hedges and rose bushes. The neighbors’ homes are equally overbearing and ostentatious from the other side of that looming brick wall.
“This is the safest place for you to be right now.” He cuts the engine and meets my gaze in the rear-view. “But, if at any time you don’t feel comfortable, tell me and I’ll fix it.”
“Fix it how? You’d get me out of here?”
“I’d figure something out.” He opens his door, slides free, then helps me from the car. All the while he cautiously scrutinizes the yard, as if he’s taking in every swaying branch and rustling leaf.
We’re alone. No other cars. No people in sight.
“I thought you said Sebastian was following us.” I beat back panic at our conspicuous position. The boundary walls are large, but the neighbors’ houses’ are far bigger. What if we’re being watched? An itch of unease skates along my arms. “Where are Cole and Hunter?”
“Decker and Hunt kept driving once we reached the gates. They need to help escort everyone here. And Torian went to park around back in the garage. He’ll let us in through the front door in a minute.”
I nod, only slightly appeased.
My arms break out in goose bumps beneath my sweater. All my hairs stand on end. It’s as if I’m in the sights of a well-trained assassin and any sudden movement will end my life.
“You can wait at the front door.” Luca jerks his chin toward the house. “I’ll get our stuff.”
I don’t listen. Instead I follow him to the trunk and help to carry my paper bags while he hauls a heavy duffle. It’s instinctive to remain by his side, and I suppose it shouldn’t be. Not when walls are crashing down around me. I need to find a way to make it on my own. Without reliance.
By the time we reach the front double doors, Cole is there to let us inside.
He leads us down a wide hall, the white tiles immaculate, the walls filled with artwork. It’s too similar to Luther’s Grecian home. My prison. This place is another picture-perfect house, haunted by criminal activity.
“Separate rooms?” Cole stops before a closed door. “Or together?”
“Separate,” I murmur, as Luca says, “Together.”
Cole raises a brow. “I’ll leave you two to come to a decision. Make yourselves at home. But once everyone arrives we need to have a meeting. Don’t keep me waiting.” He continues down the long hall, back straight, stride confide
nt, and opens another door to disappear inside.
Luca doesn’t speak. He stands there, staring where Cole had once been, his jaw tense, his hand wrapped tight around the duffle strap.
“Separate rooms would be better.” I break the silence.
“You’re sick of sleeping with me already?” He makes for the door in front of me, flings it wide and stalks inside.
“That’s not it.” I remain in the hall, unwilling to follow. “You said my brother will be here. I don’t want him seeing us together.”
“Fuck your brother,” he grates from inside the room. “I’ll tell him I’m sleeping on the floor. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
I cling to my bags, the paper crinkling under my tightening grip. “No, it’s best if I stay somewhere else.”
He dumps his duffle at the foot of the bed and returns to the doorway, his shoulders stiff. “I get it; you’re angry at me. You don’t trust me anymore. But distancing yourself isn’t going to help.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t trust me, Luc. You don’t believe me.”
He steps closer, not stopping until his face is inches from mine. “No, I don’t want to believe you. There’s a difference.”
“It sounds the same to me.”
“Well, it’s not. I believe that you think Robert is still alive. And that he was the shooter last night. But I don’t want to believe it because that means I fucked up. Not just a little bit, but a whole damn lot. Believing you’re right means I risked your life and I’m not sure I can handle that.”
“How do you think I feel? You made me believe in fairy tales. You convinced me I was safe. Now I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I need to step back and protect myself. On my own.”
He reaches for my bags, drags both from my arms to steal them inside. “Everything between us is real.” He speaks over his shoulder. “So whatever you need to figure out, you can do it in here.”
I sigh and trudge after him, stopping at the threshold. “You can’t blame me for questioning my safety, Luc.”
He dumps my bags on top of a dark wood dresser, then turns to me. “But you’re not just questioning your safety. You’re questioning me. You’re questioning all the things I’ve done to protect you. All the time we’ve spent together. All the things that happened over the past weeks. I’m only asking for you to give me a chance to redeem myself.”
I slump against the doorjamb and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t need to redeem anything. I just need space.”
“I call bullshit. Last night you pleaded to get in my bed. Now you’re pushing me away because I fucked up.”
“No, I’m pushing you away because you made it clear last night that you won’t let me intrude upon your past despite how much you demand of mine. If anyone has been pushing it was you.”
My lips snap shut as his shoulders straighten.
I didn’t need to say that. My insecurities are meaningless in comparison to the situation with Robert. Yet I feel better for getting it off my chest. One of the millions of voices in my head has been heard.
“Is that what this is about?” He frowns. “My past isn’t a topic either one of us want to discuss.”
“I understand, but it doesn’t stop me questioning the secrecy. Maybe this is more of that self-sabotage you spoke about.” I shrug. “I don’t know. All I can say is that I feel isolated from the truth right now. And I’m not sure how to get on top of that when the one person I thought I could trust can be physically near me, yet mentally keep me at arm’s length.”
19
Luca
“Get in here,” I demand.
Her throat works over a heavy swallow. Her chin hikes the slightest bit in defense.
She’s uncomfortable. Unsettled.
We’re fuckin’ twinsies.
“No.” She pushes from the doorjamb and stands tall. “I’ll find another room.”
“Do I need to carry you over my shoulder?” I start toward her, thankful she scoots inside before I slam the door shut. “So me spilling my past will stop you feeling isolated?”
“That’s not what I’m saying… I just—” She throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. One minute I’m in your house, in your bed, and I begin to feel happy and optimistic and whole. I started imagining a future that wasn’t a waking nightmare. And now we’re here and all those daydreams are gone, leaving me to question everything.”
She wants my secrets.
My truth.
I guess I owe her that much.
“They’re cigarette burns,” I admit, each word slicing open old wounds. “The marks all over my body aren’t from shrapnel. They’re not battle scars. Each and every spot of mutilated skin is from the burned end of a cheap roll of tobacco.”
Her face falls. Her lips part.
She stares at me for long moments, thoughts running rampant in those eyes, but no questions come out.
“How’s that for un-isolating truth?” I drawl.
She shakes her head, her forehead wrinkled in a wince. “Do I want to know who caused them?”
“Probably not. But I’ll tell you anyway.” I back away from her, moving to the bed to slump onto the mattress. “The lighter, more frequent ones are from my father. Because he liked to constantly remind me he was an asshole. Those few that are deeper came from my mom. She wasn’t as carefree about leaving abusive evidence behind, but when she did, she tended not to hold back.”
Pity takes over her beautiful face. Such sickening, unwanted pity.
I can’t look at her when she stares at me like that.
I don’t want sympathy. I don’t even want acknowledgement.
“Obviously, they weren’t the best parents,” I say through clenched teeth. “But my scars are nothing in comparison to my brother’s. He bore the brunt of their abuse.”
“That’s why you’re always helping him?”
“I help him because he helped me for years. He made sure he was the main target whenever my folks went on a rage bender. He kept me alive through childhood and has far more scars to prove it. Mental and physical.”
He grew accustomed to fucking up for the sake of saving me. It was his routine for so long the habit followed into adulthood.
“How long did the abuse last?” She approaches, stopping within arm’s reach.
“Benji was willing to risk living on the streets for as long as I can remember. He only hung around because I was too much of a chicken shit to leave. But as soon as my seventeenth birthday arrived, I forged my parents’ signature and signed up for the Navy. I was out of there and never looked back.”
“And Benji? What did he do?”
“Whatever he could to survive. He got a job. Rented a shitty apartment and kept his head above water with the money I sent him each payday.” I meet the sickening pity still heavy in her gaze. “Is that enough insight? Do you feel better now?”
“Please don’t ask me that.” She wraps her arms around her middle. “If I would’ve known what you were hiding I never would’ve made demands.”
“I didn’t tell you, Pen, because I haven’t told anyone. Not child services when they came to check on us. Not the few friends I had as a kid. Not a single soul since I left that fucking house and never looked back.” I shove from the bed and bridge the distance between us, untangling those arms to place them on my waist. “Nobody knows. I don’t even think Benji told his wife.”
“I feel horrible.” She speaks into my chest. “I never should’ve said anything.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you would’ve found out soon enough. I can’t keep shit from you.”
She sinks into me, her cheek to my shoulder, her warm breath on my neck. “Where are your parents now?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, my childhood never existed.”
“But from your childhood you became a protector. You became a SEAL—”
“I became a SEAL because it felt goo
d to create havoc for the right reasons. To be someone who was the best of the best instead of a cowering little kid who made his brother take his beatings. They were the first family I ever had.”
“And then you lost them…”
“I did.” I shrug. “But I gained a new one here. These guys have my back, even though they act like pricks most of the time. This job wasn’t a hard transition, even though I never would’ve guessed it beforehand.”
“But you went from doing good to bad.”
“Did I?” I pull back to look down at her. “I saved you, after all. Doesn’t that make me a little bit good?”
She winces. “Yes. Of course it does. I didn’t mean…”
“Killing heartless criminal assholes isn’t something I feel guilty about. Sometimes people deserve more than a jail cell. I don’t lose sleep thinking about the bodies I’ve buried.”
She stares up at me for long moments of contemplation. No agreement. No response.
“Does knowing more about me make you feel any better, shorty?”
She swallows and swipes her tongue over her lower lip, the sight fucking tempting. “I’d be lying if I said no.”
“You sure I didn’t scare you?”
Her lips pull in a half-hearted smile. “Again, I’d be lying if I said no.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure to leave the closet open for you to dig through my skeletons. But I think it’s too early to chat about the work I do for Cole. I can see you’re uncomfortable with it.”
Her chuckle is breathy. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Okay.” I grab her chin, grazing my fingers over her soft skin. “I’ll do whatever you want. You only need to ask.”
I press my mouth to hers, eating up her faint whimper as she settles against my chest. The connection is soft. Slow. Exactly the opposite of what the blood rushing through my veins demands.
“How are you feeling about last night?” I ask against her lips. “No regrets?”
“None.” She deepens the kiss. “Only more curiosity.”
I keep the laughter buried in my chest. The agonizing, punishing laughter.
This woman is going to get me killed.