by LJ Evans
Jada had long since given up being shy about her body. I’d seen her in bikinis and dresses so small they showed more skin than they hid, but when her eyes met mine in the reflection, they held a vulnerability that continued to undo me.
I stepped closer, pulling off my shirt and toeing off my shoes. Her eyes widened a hair, nostrils flaring as she took in my bare chest. In a voice that was hoarse and gravelly, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Helping you,” I said, voice falling an octave as if to match hers.
“You don’t need to be naked to do that,” she said.
I did the only thing I could to lighten the mood. “Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, mon amour?”
Her eyes narrowed at the tease and the endearment she disliked.
“Even if I hadn’t almost been blown up, you wouldn’t tempt me that much, Armaud.”
“I’d love to make a bet about this, but I feel like it would just delay you getting in the shower and then back into bed so you can rest.”
She turned away from me, stepping into the walk-in shower. I followed, keeping my eyes anywhere but on her body as she washed. She inhaled in sharp, quiet breaths every time she hit a cut, holding back more pained sounds by biting her lower lip. When she tried to wash her hair, lifting her arms caused her to list sideways, and she gasped at what I could only imagine was agony inside her chest.
I reached in to steady her and then said, “Let me do it.”
I shed my jeans and stepped into the shower in my underwear. She tilted her head back, and I ran the water through her hair before filling my palm with the spearmint-scented shampoo I used. My fingers caressed her scalp, lathering the strands gently, stabilizing her whenever she wavered. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes against pale cheeks, exposing the dark hollows under her eyes from days of no sleep. Those were almost as painful to me as the bruises on her back.
I wished I could fix it all for her. I wished I could filter through her life like I was doing with the locks of her hair. I wished I could take every awful moment and leave behind only the good. Cleanse her memories and her past.
I turned her toward the showerhead, shifting my fingers through the black web as I rinsed the suds from them. Both of us were breathing hard with a tension in the air that was all sexual. It was a natural reaction to naked bodies tucked so closely together, but it was also the reaction I’d always had to her. Desire. Longing. A need I’d never been able to fill no matter the women who’d passed through my bed. The need I had for Jada went far deeper than the relief a beautiful orgasm could provide.
As we ignored the electricity in the air, I repeated my motions with the conditioner. It was silent, but we were both listening to the unspoken messages, listening to the pounding of our hearts, the panting of our breaths, and the water as it splashed around us.
When I was done, I turned the water off and ran my fingers over her face to remove the water and a stray bubble before bringing her palm to my lips. I kissed it softly, and her eyes flew open. She stared at my lips on her hand, then her eyes traveled upward to meet my gaze with one that was still vulnerable. Almost as if she was scared. As if the tenderness I showed her was more terrifying than the gun she’d had pointed in her direction once upon a time.
She jerked her hand from mine, and I let it go. I grabbed her wrists and placed them on the shower wall. “Stay there for a second, please.”
I didn’t give her time to argue. I stepped out, grabbing one of the large, soft towels from the shelf. I dried myself off and slung it around my hips before turning back to the shower with a second one for her. I rubbed her skin from top to bottom, taking care to be as gentle as possible with the bruises and cuts.
Then, I helped her out onto the bathroom rug. A gasp went through her as she raised her arms to put on the nightgown, and she used the counter and my arm as she slid the underwear Cara had bought her into place. I pulled a stool out from under the vanity.
“Have a seat, madam,” I told her with a curve of my lips.
She rolled her eyes but did what I asked. I pulled my comb from a drawer and ran it through her hair, tugging gently at each knot. Her eyes were closed again. It was as if she was struggling to keep them open.
“I’d really like us to go to Vanya’s place for a few days,” I told her, bringing up the topic she’d argued against at the hospital.
She sighed, shoulders dropping. “Why?”
“To get you out of the city and away from prying eyes. But mostly, to give you a chance to heal.”
“I meant why do you need to go with me?” she asked, tired eyes barely opening to watch me in the mirror.
“You need someone you can trust with you.”
“I can trust you?” she asked, doubt in her voice.
It twisted my heart that she questioned it, but I knew the reasons why. I’d run from her every time things had gotten hot and heated in her life. I had a lot of work to do in order to prove I wasn’t going to run again.
“Yes,” I said. It was deep and throaty, a promise in the sound of it as much as in the words.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to the people I care about because of me,” she said. It was so quiet I could barely hear it.
“Are you worried about me, mon bijou?”
“You. Dawson and Violet. Joel and Ashton. The rest of the employees at Force de la Violette.”
“We’ve got protection. And we’re working on finding whomever this is.”
“Protection didn’t help Bobby. It cost him his life,” she said, tears in her eyes, a catch in her throat.
“It’s horrible, but it was also his job. He chose to put his life on the line.”
“For me!” she said fiercely, with regret, as if she wasn’t worth his loss.
I kneeled, swiveling the stool so we were eye to eye. “Mon petit bijou, you don’t deserve less because of your father and the name you bear.”
We stared at each other as she fought emotions. And then she smiled. It was tired and sardonic, but it eased the tightness in my chest. “Are you trying to tell me to change my name? I’m not going to marry you, Armaud, no matter what you told the folks at the hospital. I can change my name legally without marrying anyone.”
“You can indeed,” I said, spinning her toward the mirror and drawing the comb through her hair once more until it was silky and smooth again. I was pretty sure she normally would have dried it, but I just wanted her to climb into bed and get some rest.
I helped her up and walked her into my room. The sun had faded completely behind the closed blinds, darkening the room even more than earlier. The only light was from the lamp on the bedside table. She was so tired her eyes were drooping even as she walked. I helped her slide under the sheets, supporting her as she lay back, biting her lip the entire time.
“Do you need water? More pain medicine?” I asked.
She shook her head slightly.
“Vanya’s tomorrow, right?” I said, knowing it was unfair of me to ask her when she was already half asleep, but also knowing I had to get the answer from her before she thought of a million reasons not to go.
“Fine,” she breathed out, slurred.
I stood staring at her for longer than I should have, watching her chest rise and fall until it became a steady rhythm. I wondered how I’d ever let her out of my sight without thinking the worst was going to happen to her.
We had to find out who was coming after her. If it was her father, so be it. If it was some runaway faction of the Kyōdaina, we’d deal with that as well. I wouldn’t be able to go back to any sort of normal life until this was over.
I turned toward the closet, found a pair of workout shorts, and slipped into them. I didn’t dare get into the bed with her in my normal naked state—not after what had happened the last time. But there was also no way I was sleeping on the couch where I wouldn’t hear her if she needed me. So, for the first time in years, I went to
bed in clothes.
I lay down on my side on the mattress, staring at her closed eyes and the scratches and bruises, hating with a violent intensity whoever was doing this to her. As my eyes closed and sleep started to drag me under, visions of Jada in all levels of undress swam through my brain, but what lingered the longest was the utter vulnerability of her eyes in the mirror.
Jada
THIS ISN’T EVERYTHING YOU ARE
“Just take the hand that's offered.
And hold on tight,
This isn't everything you are.”
Performed by Snow Patrol
Written by Lightbody / Connolly / Lee / Quinn / Simpson / Wilson
Dax hadn’t let me help with packing the suitcases. He and Cara had basically reversed the process they’d done just hours before while forcing me to watch from the bed. The truth was, I was too tired to argue with them. I’d slept better in Dax’s bed than I had in days, but the pain had still woken me several times. As if tied to my sleep schedule, Dax had come awake the instant I reached for the ibuprofen and water. I’d refused the stronger pain pills because I knew myself too well. I knew how tempting it would be to use them to escape the world for hours and days at a time, and I needed my wits about me, not only because of the threats but because being with Dax required me to keep my shield up.
Yesterday had proven that. The tenderness he’d exhibited repeatedly…the gentle caresses in the shower…the sweet kisses to my palm. My heart couldn’t help but respond to them, and it wouldn’t end well. I needed to quickly rebuild the walls he was trying to tear down.
Cillian knocked and then entered the bedroom as Cara and Dax zipped the final suitcase shut. It looked like we were going to be gone a month. There was no way I could spend more than a few days in close contact with Dax and keep my resolve in place. Even that would be a struggle.
“These are ready,” Dax said, referring to the luggage.
Cillian nodded, but there was a grimness to his face that caused all of us to still.
“What happened?” Dax asked him.
Cillian handed him an envelope. It was thick and waxy, and I knew what it was before I even saw the writing. Dax opened it and frowned.
“Did you read it?” he asked, handing it back to his bodyguard.
“I put it through a translator,” Cillian said gruffly.
“Let me see it,” I demanded.
Cillian looked to Dax for permission.
“If it has my name on it, it’s against the law to withhold it from me. I’m not some porcelain teacup that’s going to break. Hand me the damn thing,” I said, gritting my teeth.
Dax nodded, and it tightened my chest. I wasn’t going to let a man tell me what I could and couldn’t do anymore. Never again. Not my father. Not Ken’Ichi. Not Dax.
Cillian handed me the note. I couldn’t keep the tremor from my hands, and I hated that the others saw it. The Japanese letters were embedded deeply into the parchment, just like with the first one, as if the lines themselves were angry. A man died for you, dishonorable one. Jigai is how you must atone for his loss as well as the other deaths and disgraces you’re responsible for. If you do not take this action, we will make sure you and Dawson Langley die in the most shameful way possible. You have one week.
My brain flashed back to the original note with the female hand using the kaiken to cut into the flesh. Jigai was the female version of the ritualized suicide of the ancient Samurais. Whoever this was wanted me to make amends by dying at my own hand.
My hand clenched the paper, wrinkling it. Dax was at my side in a heartbeat, pulling the paper from me and handing it back to Cillian.
“What does it say?” he asked, the demand I normally hated back in his voice. I knew it stemmed from concern, but it still caused me to balk, to not want to tell him.
Dax looked at Cillian who was watching me with narrowed eyes, as if I could pull a dagger from the ankle boots I wore in order to slash my wrists or throat right at that moment. When I didn’t speak, Cillian repeated the words. It wasn’t a perfect translation, but it got the point across.
“Putain,” Dax mumbled.
Cara’s eyes were huge, as if she hadn’t really understood the true danger until she’d heard the words.
“Where was the letter delivered?” I asked as my voice continued to reverberate through the buzzing in my head.
“Here. By messenger,” Cillian said.
Dax’s face grew dark. “They followed us?”
Cillian’s face was blank. “You were all over the news together. It wouldn’t take a genius to know where she was.”
My stomach tightened at the thought of us on the news with our names twined. Not only must it be hurting his family but it was bringing this threat to his door. As if he knew I was doubting the wisdom of continuing to travel with him, Dax turned to me and said, “We’re leaving. You ready?”
I wasn’t ready at all. I felt the need to run, to hide away from every single person in the world that I cared about. Dawson… Violet… My throat closed.
“I want to talk with Violet and Dawson,” I said.
“One call, and then we leave the phones here,” Dax told me.
I looked at Cara and Cillian and said, “Can I have a moment with Dax, please?”
They exchanged a look and then left, taking our suitcases with them.
“I already know what you’re going to say,” Dax started with deep emotion in his voice. “You want me to stop demanding things and telling you what to do. I am trying, but I feel like…if I don’t push you, you’d just walk into the line of fire.”
“I’m not stupid or rash. Even though you keep insinuating it, I don’t have a death wish, and I certainly have no desire to commit suicide. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life, and I don’t need you mansplaining to me the things I already know.”
He flicked the clasp on his watch.
“If I was ready to walk into the fire,” I continued, “I wouldn’t have agreed to go with you to Vanya’s.”
He nodded slightly.
I picked up my phone from the side table. I’d thought I was lucky it had been in the pocket of my workout pants when the penthouse had blown up, but now I would be leaving it behind anyway. It was a lifeline to the handful of people in my life I knew who truly cared about me. I wasn’t sure what I would do without it.
I dialed the satellite number I’d been using to contact my friends, and Vi picked up.
“Tell me you’re okay,” she said instead of hello.
“Bumps and bruises, but I may be arrested for murder if Armaud doesn’t ease up.”
“Not funny,” Violet said. “Not when you’re the one they’re trying to murder.”
Her voice shook on the last word, and my eyes stung with unshed tears.
“I’m okay,” I told her softly. “But we got another note today.”
“Another one? As in there was a first one? Before the bomb?” Dawson’s voice came through, and I realized I was on speaker on their end.
Violet’s voice rose an octave, “That’s why you were acting so weird! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon for nothing. I still don’t want to ruin your time together, but you have to be careful. This one said they’d come after Dawson if I don’t give them what they want in a week.”
Violet gasped, and Dawson mumbled a curse word.
“What do they want?” he asked.
“Me in a body bag.”
Only Violet’s sharply inhaled breath let me know they heard me, because there was silence on the other end.
After a long, painful moment, Dawson grunted out, “I contacted the FBI to have Malone call me, but they’re having trouble getting him a message with him deep undercover.”
Because my father was known for having men inside government agencies, Dawson had never fully trusted his FBI counterparts. The only person he’d truly put his faith in was Cru
z Malone. Even to this day, he felt like someone had tipped them off that horrible night in New London.
“We’re leaving in just a few minutes,” I tried to reassure them. “They won’t be able to find me, but I’m…worried they’ll go looking for you in my absence.”
My voice shook, filled with emotions. I was more than worried. I was terrified. I loved these two people. They were everything to me. They’d given me more chances than I deserved. They’d believed in me even when I was at my very worst.
“We’ve loaded up the yacht with supplies and are heading out to the middle of nowhere. Even if they came for us, we’d see them coming,” Dawson responded as if he’d already known he’d be next on their list. Our past was finally catching up to us.
My heart was tangled into a knot as painful as my bruised ribs, worry and regret filling me.
“Please be safe,” I managed to get out. “I love you both. I don’t know what I’d do…”
I couldn’t even finish it.
“Same, Jada. We feel the same. Please listen to Dax and Cillian. Please let them protect you,” Violet said, tears in her voice.
I glanced up at Dax who couldn’t hear the conversation but was waiting patiently to help me escape the hands of those coming after me. Listening while others told me what to do would never come easy to me. Dax’s conversation with me two seconds before was the clear evidence of that fact.
“I’ll try,” I told her.
“Is Dax there?” Dawson asked.
“Yes, hold on.” I stood, wincing at the motion, and gave Dax the phone.
Then, I left the room. I didn’t want to hear them talk about me. I wouldn’t be able to keep my shit together if anyone used more tender words.
Cillian was at the front door, but the luggage had disappeared. I glanced back at the bedroom and stepped closer to the giant of a man. He was huge—two of Dax in muscle and width and at least two inches above Dax’s already tall frame. Cillian made me feel like an elf.
