by Becca Steele
“Fine, thanks.” I was hyperaware of Caiden next to me, glaring over my shoulder at Cass.
“Someone get out of the wrong side of bed this morning?” Cassius raised a brow at him.
“Don’t start,” Caiden warned him. “Let’s get this over with. I have other plans for later.”
Why did I feel disappointed at his words?
Cassius straightened up and gave Caiden a mock salute, then headed over to his hulking SUV, where West was already waiting inside. They drove away, beeping the horn far too many times for a Sunday morning, and once the driveway was clear, Zayde straddled his beast of a bike, pulling his helmet over his dark hair. Snapping the visor into place, he shot off down the driveway and out of sight.
Finally, it was our turn to leave. I watched the sea as we drove along the coast road to Highnam, the car silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
When we reached our destination, apprehension filled me.
I climbed out of the car and stood, staring at the hotel perched on the cliff, where my mother had met the mysterious Littlefinger. A tall Victorian building, it had definitely seen better days. The cream paintwork was dirty, chipped, and peeling, and one of the windows had a spiderweb of cracked glass stretching across it, covered from the inside by what looked like duct tape.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” I muttered, pushing open the heavy wooden door and walking inside. The man behind the reception desk looked up from his newspaper as we entered.
“Uh. We’re here to have coffee?” I eyed him hesitantly.
“Bar and restaurant’s through there,” he recited in a bored tone, pointing at a door to our left, and resumed reading his paper.
“Friendly bloke, isn’t he,” Cade murmured in my ear, steering me into the bar area with a hand on the small of my back.
I stopped dead as we entered, and he almost ran into me. “Look!” I hissed. “That’s the table she was sitting at.”
“You’re right.” His voice was low. “Come on.” He walked over to the table tucked away in the corner and sat down, and I sat opposite him in the exact same seat my mother had been in.
I picked up a menu from the table, trying to appear unobtrusive while scanning the room. I felt really unnatural and like everyone was looking at me, even though in reality, no one was. There were about six other patrons in the room, chatting quietly and not paying any attention to us.
“Act normal.” Caiden frowned at me.
“I’m trying. I’m just nervous.”
He rolled his eyes. “Relax, will you.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists, tapping my nails on the table.
“For fuck’s sake.” He stood up. “Stand up.”
I rose to my feet immediately, and he grabbed my chair and dragged it around the side of the table so it was on the corner next to his, rather than directly opposite.
“Sit,” he instructed, folding his large body back on to his own chair. I sank back into my seat, and he leaned over to me. “That’s better.” He slid his hand onto my jean-clad thigh under the table, and I gasped. He squeezed once—a warning, then moved his hand further up. My nerves disappeared as my whole world shrank to the place he was touching me. “You doing okay, there, Snowflake?” His voice dropped, turning from annoyed to a rough caress.
I could only nod mutely. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet his unreadable gaze. He stared at me, then licked his lips, slowly, deliberately.
Fuck. Me.
I gripped the edge of the table to ground myself as his hand moved higher. He kept his eyes locked with mine the whole time.
“Can I take your order?” I jumped at the cold, intrusive voice.
“Two lattes,” Cade barked out, without taking his eyes from me. I heard footsteps retreat, and then it was just us, tucked away in our corner of the room.
I swallowed hard. His hand stopped, so close to where I really, really wanted him to touch me, but really, really shouldn’t in a public setting.
“What’s going on?” I managed to get the words out, my voice hoarse.
“I’m distracting you.” An amused smirk tugged at his lips.
Why did he have to be so irritating, but so sexy? “Um. Okay?”
Before he could say anything else, we were interrupted by the waiter returning with our order.
“Two lattes.” He set the crockery carelessly down on the table, sending coffee sloshing down the side of my cup.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
“Chill, it’s only spilled coffee,” Cade hissed as the waiter walked away.
“No.” I stared after him, shaking my head. “No.”
“What is it?” Suddenly he was right in my face, lifting my chin so I was forced to meet his eyes.
“Him,” I said urgently.
“What?”
“Him. The man. That was him. Littlefinger.”
TWENTY-THREE
Fuck.
“Are you sure?” I stared at her, her gaze bouncing around the room, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. “Winter!” I tightened my grip on her chin, sliding my other hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her, hard. She gasped into my mouth, then kissed me back. I pulled away after a few seconds. “Calm now?”
She nodded, looking dazed.
“Good. You sure it was him?”
“I think so. I didn’t get to look properly, but I definitely saw that the whole top bit of his little finger was missing. There can’t be many other people around with missing fingers, can there?”
“Fuck. Okay. I wasn’t expecting this. We need to get photos. West can run them through his facial recognition shit, and maybe we’ll get lucky and find a match.”
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “Maybe…” she murmured to herself. Her blue eyes met mine. “Do you trust me?”
Do I?
She frowned when I took too long to reply. “Just give me ten minutes. Please. Trust me, Cade.” She widened her eyes, giving me a hopeful look, staring at me from under her dark lashes.
“Okay.” I found myself agreeing before I could think it through.
“Good.” Her soft expression changed in a flash, a hard look coming into her eyes. “Follow my lead, and don’t do anything to fuck it up. I mean it.”
Me, fuck it up? What was she planning?
I didn’t have to wonder for long.
She gulped down her coffee, then waved in the direction of Littlefinger, who had returned from the kitchen and was shuffling the pages of a newspaper, clearly bored. Four of the other patrons had left by this point, and apart from us, there was one elderly couple, who looked as if they were on the verge of falling asleep.
I watched as he lumbered to his feet, heading in our direction. Tall, built, pale, shaved head, a thin scar on his right cheek, he looked like a stereotypical goon from a crime movie. He flexed his knuckles as he drew closer, and I noticed the gold rings on his fingers.
“Hello.” My head whipped around at Winter’s sickly sweet tone. What the fuck? While I was watching Littlefinger, she’d taken off the hoodie she’d been wearing, and she was now sitting in a tiny low-cut top that showcased her perfect, perky tits. Worse, she was leaning forwards, giving Littlefinger a clear view down her top, batting her eyelashes and twirling a strand of her dark hair with one finger.
I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth. The fucker was staring at her tits, and from his face, he liked what he saw.
Winter kicked me under the table. Then again. I breathed in and out through my nose, trying to keep my cool as he openly ogled her.
“What can I help you with, my darling?” He had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Possibly Russian.
“Do you have a moment?” Winter indicated the empty chair opposite her. He glanced around him, then shrugged.
“For a pretty girl, anything.” He sank his huge bulk into the chair.
“I was just wondering if you could tell me anything about the history of this place, Mr
… Oh. How rude of me! I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Summer.” A tiny, sly smile crossed her lips at this point. “And this is my brother, Barry. And you are…?”
Barry? What the actual fuck? And brother? Yeah, okay, I was technically her stepbrother, but. Yeah, no.
“Petr.” He accepted her outstretched hand, shaking it firmly, ignoring me. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the history of this place. I just work here.” His face fell.
“That’s a shame.” She leaned forwards even further, pouting her lips, and I wanted to haul her over my shoulder and drag her out of there, and punch Petr’s leering face simultaneously. “Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, brightening. “That ring on your finger is beautiful. Is it a sovereign ring?”
“Yes.” He beamed, clearly pleased with the attention, as he slid his hand across the table towards her.
“Ooh. It’s beautiful,” she purred, tracing her finger over it and simultaneously kicking my shin again. I could now see his finger clearly, and she was right. He was our man. I picked up my phone, and on the pretence of sending a text, snapped a photo of his hand. How I was going to get one of his face without him noticing, I had no idea.
While I’d been trying to subtly take a photo, Winter’s finger was tracing along Petr’s knuckles. Both mine and his attention were laser focused on her movements, his with pleasure, and mine…all I knew was I wanted to break every fucking knuckle on his hand.
“What did you do here?” she asked softly, indicating the missing fingertip.
I glanced up at his face just in time to see a hard, dangerous glint flash in his eye, his whole body tensing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” She withdrew her hand from his meekly, staring down at the table.
“It’s okay, my darling. You have no need to apologise. It was a…gardening accident.” He reached out and squeezed her hand, his thumb caressing hers, and she raised her eyes to meet his, brimming with faux sympathy.
I needed to break something. Preferably his face.
“You poor man. I’m so sorry. You know what, though? It makes you memorable.” She actually winked at him. “I’ll certainly remember the handsome man who so kindly took time out of his workday to answer my questions.”
He preened, pleased with her “handsome” compliment, leaning closer to her, and I clenched my jaw harder. “It’s always a pleasure to spend time with a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He studied her more closely. “You look very familiar. Have we met before?”
She gave a light laugh that I could tell was forced, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “I always get people asking that. I’ve been mistaken for a Hollywood actress and a singer before. I guess I just have one of those faces.”
“That must be it.” Thankfully, he didn’t pry any further. If he’d realised she looked like her mother, we would have been in serious trouble. Why hadn’t I thought of that possibility? She could be in real danger. Shit.
“Well, my brother and I must be going now.” She glanced at me, and her eyes widened as she took me in. “Um, thank you so much for your time, Petr. Could I trouble you for a quick selfie with me before I leave? I’d love to post it on my social media and make my friends jealous that I got to spend my Sunday morning with you.” She winked. A-fucking-gain.
“Of course, my darling.” They both stood, and I had to watch as he put his huge beefy arm around her, and she snapped a series of selfies, giggling and pouting while he lapped up all the attention. Then she kissed his cheek, swiped her hoodie from her seat, and strolled off with a wave, her ass swaying in her tight jeans.
I stormed out after her. “What—”
“Don’t. Say. A. Word,” she hissed through clenched teeth, pulling her hoodie on as she walked. “He might be watching.” Then, she added, “Barry,” and I fucking snapped.
“Get in the fucking car, and not another word out of your mouth.” I slammed the car into reverse and peeled out of the car park, spinning the wheels. Fuck. I needed to pull over somewhere to calm down.
A turn-off appeared to the left, and I threw the car into it, skidding around the corner. Winter fell into the door, unprepared.
“What the fuck, Caiden!” she shouted.
“I’m trying not to crash!” I roared at her, and she cowered back in her seat. Good.
There was an entrance to a field up ahead, and I slowed the car, pulling into the gap and bringing us to a stop. I released my death grip on the steering wheel, turned off the engine, and jumped out, slamming the door violently behind me.
TWENTY-FOUR
What should I do? And what exactly was his problem? I watched through the windscreen as he stood in the field, clenching and unclenching his fists. He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he looked so frustrated, so lost, I was up and out of the car before I knew what I was doing.
“Cade?”
“Don’t. I can’t.” He refused to look at me.
“Caiden.” I stepped right in front of him. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please?”
“I don’t fucking know, Winter.” His eyes met mine. “I wanted to kill him and punish you, with the way you were all over each other. Then I was angry because I thought you might be in danger. I just…I don’t know, alright!” He ended his sentence on an angry growl.
I stepped even closer and wound my arms around his waist. He stiffened but didn’t push me away.
“You realise I was acting back there, right? It literally made my skin crawl to touch him, thinking that he could be involved in whatever this is.”
He moved one of his hands around my back, gathering a handful of my hair and bringing his other hand up underneath my jaw to lift my chin, cupping my throat.
“I don’t like other people touching what’s mine,” he said roughly.
“Am I yours?”
He looked at me, his gaze hard and possessive. “We’re fucking, and I don’t share, so in that respect, other men better keep their hands off you.”
“If that’s the case, can I expect other women to do the same? Can I expect you not to be touching other women?”
“I’m not interested in any other women.” He rubbed his thumb over the pulse point in my throat, raking his other hand through my hair, making me shiver, then released me.
Oh. “Since when? What about Portia? Jessa?” I bit my lip.
“I’m. Not. Interested.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” I managed to say.
I stood up on my toes and put my arms around his shoulders, and his body relaxed slightly, some of the anger disappearing from his eyes.
“You called him handsome,” he muttered, and I smiled.
“Were you jealous?” I ran my fingers over the short hairs at the back of his neck.
“No.” He put his arms around my waist, pulling my body into his.
“You’re lying again. I can tell.” I kissed his jaw, the stubble scratchy against my lips.
“I’m not.” He lowered his mouth to mine, biting my lip softly, before pulling back to look at me again.
I stared at him for a minute, trailing my eyes across the angular planes of his face. From his tousled raven hair, to his stormy grey-blue eyes edged with thick ebony lashes, to his stubbled jaw, and the sexy tattooed body that was underneath his clothes, he was insanely gorgeous by anyone’s standards.
“Cade. I shouldn’t even have to state the obvious, but I was trying to flatter him by calling him handsome, and, also, have you seen you? You’re like—like a sex god or something!”
“That’s true,” he agreed with a smirk, the remainder of his anger dissipating, and I punched him in the arm, laughing.
Our moment was interrupted by his phone ringing loudly in the quiet field, and he pulled it out. “Cass… Yeah, coming now. Be there in twenty.” He inclined his head at the car as he spoke into his phone, and we climbed in to make our way back to meet the rest of the Four.
At the boys’ house we didn’t even get to discuss the morning’s
events. Everyone decided they were suddenly hungry, so I offered to make sandwiches with Cass and West while Caiden and Zayde had a quick workout—I heard Caiden mention needing to punch something to Zayde; unsurprising, I guess, after his mood earlier. Speaking of punching, I was kind of shocked that none of the boys had a black eye courtesy of Caiden, after the stunt they’d pulled at the castle.
Sandwiches made, I sat with Cass and West in the large lounge area to wait for Caiden and Zayde. It was a little uncomfortable, to be honest, remembering the last time I’d been there and Cade had been all over that girl and I’d kissed Cass. I cast around for conversation to stop myself being lost in memories I really, really didn’t want to be thinking about.
“How much longer will my car take?” I directed my question to Weston.
“Uh. It should be ready tomorrow. I’ll phone the garage in the morning to check.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, for some reason.
“I don’t understand what’s taking so long. I know you said they saw it needed new brake pads when they were replacing the tyres, but surely that should be a quick job.”
“I said one of us would give you a lift if you needed to go anywhere.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. It’s not the point I was trying to make, though.” Giving up on that line of questioning, I kicked my shoes off, curling my legs under me. “Never mind.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Hey, West? How come you don’t have a car, anyway?”
“I have an Aston Martin on order. There’s a waiting list.” He pulled out his phone and proceeded to tell me, in much more detail than I needed, how amazing the Vantage AMS was and how he was having to get it specially resprayed in the matte-black paint that the Four seemed to favour.
After I’d looked at close to a hundred photos and watched no less than three YouTube videos of the car in action on Weston’s phone, Caiden and Zayde finally strolled in. Cade had showered—his hair was damp and tousled, and he had grey sweatpants and a navy T-shirt on that stretched across his muscles. It went without saying that he looked so. Fucking. Hot.