“And?”
“And what?”
“Okay, family. What about your parents?” I pushed on. Getting to know her was a bad idea. Arthur could message me any minute, and she’d be less of a curiosity and more of a target. I was walking a tightrope with her, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“They died in a house fire when I was away at college.” Her voice dipped, but she didn’t pull away from my touch. My gaze wandered to hers, searching her for the truth.
“The farm?” I pressed.
“It’s still there.” She swallowed. “My uncle runs it now.”
A chill ran through my veins. “What kind of farm?”
She blinked and inhaled deeply. “Flowers. I think. I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” I pulled back and studied her. “How do you not know what your family grows?”
She lifted her shoulders. “My dad grew mostly soybeans, but he had a small plot for poppy flowers—you know, for the seeds, but my uncle changed it when he took over. I think it’s all flowers now.”
I ran my thumb over her lips. The topic needed to change. I didn’t want to go digging and find something I had to address.
“Your uncle and you close?”
“No,” she said with finality. The word came out hard, and she wouldn’t look at me.
“Not a nice guy?”
“He’s a prick,” she said.
“He hurt you?” I didn’t need to hear her say it, I already knew. I could sense it on her when she mentioned him, when I asked about him. The tension grew, and fear edged its way into her eyes. “Why does he have the farm and not you?” I asked, letting her have another reprieve.
“My dad left it to him.” She blinked, but I could see the confusion lurking there. “I’m not sure really how it all happened.”
Cradling her face in my hands, I tilted her head back. “You were wrong at the bar. I’m not out of your league.” My thumb brushed her lip again. So full, so fucking kissable. “And you had every fucking chance of turning my head.”
Her tongue slipped out between her lips, wetting them for me, inviting me. And I wasn’t saying no. Not to that.
I brushed my lips across hers at first, coaxing a reaction. Her hands came up and flattened against my chest, but she wasn’t pushing.
“You shouldn’t have gone out in that alley, darlin’. But I’m not entirely sure I wish you hadn’t.” I didn’t give her a chance to answer or to let my words seep into her mind. Crushing my lips to hers, I possessed her, claimed her.
Her lips parted, and I swept in, taking the kiss deeper, owning another piece of her and wanting even more. Her fingers curled into my chest, but still she didn’t push me away. She tasted like honey, but better, so much fucking better.
I pressed my body against hers, feeling every bit of her tension and letting her feel every inch of my cock. I wanted her, needed to get inside her, and the reasons for these desires could be examined later. All I knew was my body was reacting to her more than it had ever done with a woman before.
Her breaths came out in short bursts when I pulled back from her, kissing the tip of her nose before backing off. Fucking her in my kitchen wasn’t exactly a smart thing to do, and I needed to get that damn message from Arthur before I messed everything up.
“There’s food in the fridge. Get something to eat.” I stepped back, denying myself her touch. “I’ll get some ointment for your scratches. You should put some antibiotic stuff on it.” I touched the red marks on her cheek.
“Okay,” she said softly, her hands gripping the counter behind her.
“Okay.” I gave a curt nod and left her in the kitchen.
My phone buzzed, and I swiped angrily across the screen to open the conversation.
Arthur’s orders came through.
Cherise
After filling myself with a ham sandwich, I went upstairs and dressed. Dustan had left my clothes neatly folded on the bed. I did a quick survey of my backside before slipping into the panties and jeans. The dark marks across my ass cheeks and a few lingering on my thighs were tender, but the clothing didn’t bother them too much.
I looked out the bedroom window at the forest still in view. He’d accomplished his goal with that whipping. I was definitely more worried about what would happen if I tried to leave than if I stayed. Because it wasn’t a matter of if I was caught, just when. Dustan had known exactly where I was before I even touched the ground. He’d find me, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen after that.
Instead, I decided to do some recon of my own. I checked out his bedroom. Full-on masculine with sharp-edged furniture, dark-stained woods and deep blues for the fabrics. A drastic contrast to the guest room he had me in at first.
I couldn’t stay in the bedroom forever. There weren’t even any books to read. Leaving it behind, I explored the rest of the house. The same cold atmosphere in every room.
“What are you doing?” His hard tone startled me as I turned a doorknob.
I lifted a shoulder. “Looking around.”
His eyebrows rose. Maybe he wasn’t used to honesty from people around him. I didn’t need a full job description to understand what he did to pay for the house I was standing in. The man lived with a gun on his hip. A gun he’d named.
“For a way out?” He crossed his arms over his chest. He would look a little less formidable if he’d wear something more casual than the white button-downs. The crisp creases of his slacks added to his all-business appearance.
“I already found the doors,” I said softly. I couldn’t gauge him yet. There was tension in his body language, in his set jaw, but his eyes had warmed.
“But you didn’t open them?”
“No.” I couldn’t hide the exasperation from my tone. “I was bored. And sitting there just thinking about all the ways you could kill me and wondering why you haven’t done it yet, and then trying to guess when you would finally do it—” I paused a beat. “I needed a break from the worry.”
He frowned. “You worry a lot.”
“You have a gun that you keep pointing at me! Look at my face.” I pointed at myself. “You punched me, you whipped me…” And then he kissed me, but I didn’t mention that joy of a memory. I didn’t know what that was, or if it meant anything in terms of my future as a living human being, but I wasn’t going there with him. For all I knew, he was just enjoying himself—toying with his prey. Like a cat bats around a mouse before finally doing it in. I could be the mouse.
“All of that’s true.” He nodded. “But I don’t recall ever telling you I was going to kill you.” He dropped his hands to his hips, hooking them there. The top of his shirt opened with his movements, showing off a bit of his chest. I could make out a patch of dark hair. Not overgrown like some wooly mammoth, but enough to make my fingers itch to touch.
I clenched my jaw and forced my gaze up to his chin. Not that the neatly trimmed stubble there didn’t make him less appealing, but I needed to put my eyes somewhere that didn’t make him look so damn attractive. Dustan wasn’t someone to be drooled over. He was something to be feared.
So why couldn’t I conjure up the initial terror I’d felt the first time he’d drawn his weapon on me?
“You didn’t need to spell it out for me.” I gave a pointed look at his gun still hugging his hip. I wondered if he slept with it, too.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “You get mouthy when you’re scared. Forced bravado.”
“I can’t help it,” I muttered, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. My fingers brushed a welt, but I managed not to groan at the tenderness.
“You surprise me is all,” he said. “Not many people do anymore.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. He wasn’t shuffling me into that horror room or back into the bedroom, so I wasn’t ready to push him too hard.
“It’s getting late, but I want to show you something.” He motioned for me to follow him then walked off down t
he hall. I let him lead me to his office.
The space was huge and had everything he could need other than a kitchen.
“Do you live in here?” I asked, noticing the television set up with the plush furniture.
He chuckled. “It feels like that sometimes.” He walked to his desk and flicked on a monitor. He had several.
No wonder he’d known I was out of the bedroom before I got to the tree. He had cameras all over the house. He clicked a few buttons on a keyboard and the security footage switched over to survey maps.
“That’s home,” I whispered with surprise and moved closer to the screen. I touched the monitor. “Here. This is the farm.”
“Right. Have you been here?” He tapped a large green space north of the house.
I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t allowed outside our property. No one lived over there as far as I know though. Here’s the tree line. It ends the property.” I pointed out the wooded area that cut off my childhood home from the neighboring plots.
“It doesn’t.” He scrolled the picture outward more. “See, this is all part of the same property. Your father’s property. Land that is still yours,” he said, dragging his finger over the dark-blue line on the map.
“That can’t be right.” I stood up and retreated a step. “After the funerals, the lawyers said the land rolled over to my uncle. I signed papers stating I wouldn’t contest it. My uncle set up a fund for me, enough to finish college and then some so that I would go away.”
“And you did? No questions asked?” he asked. I couldn’t expect him to understand. A man like him probably never understood the pain of losing someone he loved. If he did, how could he do the things he did? Nor could he understand fear. True fear.
“I was—my uncle made it clear I didn’t have much choice.” I backed away from Dustan, away from the computer. None of that was my business anymore. It never really was.
“You had choices, you just didn’t have anyone there to explain them to you,” he said. “Your father. Did he ever try talking to you about business?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He wanted me to go to college to get a degree. He didn’t want me working the farm.”
“He never mentioned what would happen when he retired, or when he died?” Dustan pushed.
“No.” I pressed my hand to my throat. I knew how naive I’d been growing up. I didn’t need the reminder. “He just said I wouldn’t have to worry about it. He said he’d probably sell it all off before it became an issue.”
“And your mom?”
“She didn’t like talking about business. She said her job was to manage the house, and Dad’s job was to manage the business.”
“Pretty old school,” Dustan said with a soft laugh at the end.
“I thought that, too. I thought she was just old-fashioned, but she wasn’t. She liked to put on blinders when there was something she didn’t want to deal with. I figured she was doing the same with the farm. She didn’t get involved because she didn’t like it.”
The little tic in Dustan’s jaw appeared. “How often did she put these blinders on when it came to you?”
I cleared my throat. “Dad let me help in the fields sometimes. But not like other kids. While all the kids at school had been up with the sunrise helping with chores—I didn’t have a clue what most of them did. Dad had a small crew, three guys who helped in the fields, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to them.”
“Sounds like you had your own set of blinders,” he said.
“It was better that way.” I looked back at the monitor. “You said I still own the land?”
His jaw softened. “Public records still have you listed as the owner.”
“How can that be? Uncle Randy showed me the papers.”
“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t ownership. That land still belongs to you.” He pointed to the screen.
I sighed. “What does this have to do with anything anyway?” I glanced at the windows. The sun had gone down, night arrived with it. Even after the nap, I was tired. I just wanted to sleep away the mess.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He clicked the button on the monitor, blackening the screen.
“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” I asked, feeling the familiar heaviness of defeat push down on my shoulders.
“No. I’m not.” The words came out fierce, like he was making a vow, not just answering a question.
“If that land really is mine, that means I’m worth something.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “You can use me to get the land, or money. Something like that?”
“Yeah, I could.”
“And the Antonio thing?” I bit the inside of my cheek. He hadn’t brought it up, and my years of ignorance showed by jumping the hurdle ahead of him.
“Not really a thing anymore,” he said.
“The police aren’t looking for me?” I asked, surprised they’d given up so easily.
“They’re being handled.” His answers weren’t assuring me of anything positive. Everything was being buried. That didn’t mean I was safe. Just untraceable.
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “If the Antonio thing isn’t a thing. If the cops are being dealt with, why the hell am I still here? Why won’t you let me go?” I fisted my hands.
He stalked toward me, and I retreated until my back hit a wall. I could read him well enough now. He didn’t hide his thoughts. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, but his mouth wasn’t tense. His lips were parted, like they were getting ready to say something.
“I have my orders,” he said, as though that meant anything to me at all.
“I’m a loose end.” My words cracked as they escaped my drying throat. Electric warnings shot through my body. He’d do it now. He’d end the whole mess with one shot.
“You were.” He nodded, caging me with his hands pressed to the wall on either side of my head. “You aren’t now.”
I swallowed, trying to find words, something that would make him change his mind. I had nothing of real value to offer. If finding out about the farm didn’t work, what else could I give him?
“Please don’t take me back to that room,” I whispered, pissed at the fear shaking in my voice. “It might ruin your carpet, but if it’s all the same to you, just do it here?”
His eyes narrowed farther; his face came closer to me. I felt his breath hit my face, smelled his aftershave—musky and sweet.
“You still think I’m going to kill you?”
“You said you won’t let me go, and you have orders,” I reminded him.
“Correct on both accounts.”
His right hand left the wall and cupped my cheek. His thumb ran along the edge of my jaw. The bruise he’d given me still tender, I held back any indication his touch hurt.
“Do you want me to beg you?” I hardened my resolve. I couldn’t be the weak little girl who needed self-help books just to go out into the world anymore. I had to do this on my own. No one else would champion for me. “I won’t.”
He laughed, a low growly sound from deep in his chest. “Oh, you will, darlin’. But not for your life. You won’t have to do that.” He touched my lips with his finger. “No more questions. I’m not going to hurt you—unless you give me reason. You are still going to obey me, everything I say, but you aren’t a target. You aren’t in danger with me.”
I swallowed back every question wanting to leap from my chest. Relief hit me when I understood his words. I wasn’t going to die. He wouldn’t kill me—or hurt me.
“You’re going to stay with me for as long as it takes to figure out your connection to the Merde family and settle that score. Once that’s done, we’ll figure out what you’re going to do next.”
“You’re protecting me?” I asked against his finger. Shock replaced my relief.
“I’m protecting important assets, and right now you’re one of them.” He pressed his lips against my cheek, against the scrapes. “So, no more hurting yourself, darlin’, or
you’ll get more than just my belt.”
I could agree to that. I’d had enough scrapes and bruises to last awhile—no need to push my luck.
“Okay,”
“The rules are different now. You’re under my protection. Under my complete rule.” He kissed my other cheek.
I nodded because no sounds would come out of me, none that didn’t begin with a moan and end with a plea for his touch. Maybe it was the relief at not being shot, or the sexy scent of his aftershave, or it could have simply been the heady drawl of his voice as he promised to protect me, but every fiber in my body lit on fire. The need to save my life quickly morphed into a desire to be consumed by him.
“Rule number one. You sleep in my bed.” He pulled back, making a show of checking his watch. “And it’s bedtime now.”
Dustan
The slamming of a door jarred me from my focus on my computer. I checked the time. Noon. Cherise was wondering around again.
I left her to her search and went back to scrolling through the maps. Bobby hadn’t come through with anything tangible yet, and while I was waiting on him, I decided to do a little digging on my own. I’d been able to find the family farm Cherise mentioned, and the estate lines, but what I couldn’t get to was any real information on what the farm actually dealt with.
I knew her uncle was key to this. He had a connection to Merde. I just needed to figure out what that connection was. Arthur wouldn’t authorize a move on him until I had a solid lead.
Arthur not calling for Cherise’s death surprised me, but, worse, it relieved me. Ten years I’d worked beneath him, and not once did I question his motives or his decisions. He gave a target, and I went to work. But, this time, with her—I wasn’t sure I would have been able to complete the job so easily.
Fuck.
Or at all.
For the first time in ten years, the thought of going against Arthur’s word danced through my mind. And it was over a girl.
But I didn’t have to evaluate it now that Arthur had given the command to investigate her uncle. If there was a target, it wouldn’t be Cherise. I could breathe a little easier and get my head back in my work. Taking down a target.
Valor: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 6