Burn (The Sinclair Falls Novels Book 1)

by Shae Mallak

  "Right," Jonah droned sarcastically. "That's why I'm here—because Trent is a life saver." Jonah spat his name with a surprising amount of derision considering he just met the man.

  "Trent isn't the one demanding human collateral in exchange for his help!" I shot back. "You waltzed into our lives, what, an entire day ago? Do you want me to fall on my knees in praise and gratitude for taking advantage of a desperate man and kidnapping his daughter?"

  "We have a legal contract," Jonah said fiercely. "And if I hadn't stepped in to 'take advantage' of Otto, he'd probably be dead right now and you would be next!"

  "Then call the cops like a normal person!" I shouted back. "You don't buy a person!"

  "I told you—"

  "Oh, shut up about your stupid contract! I read it—I'm aware of the legalities! What I don't get is who thinks of that? If you wanted to get my attention, Jonah, you could've started with 'hello' or something, not legal kidnapping!"

  "Well I had to do something! I couldn't just wait around for you to get killed! It was either this or something incredibly illegal—I started with the legal version."

  "Oh, gee, thank you for not making criminal choices on my behalf!" I exclaimed sarcastically. "How romantic!"

  "It's better than trying to romance a corpse!" he replied hotly. He stepped close, his large hands gripping my wrists like shackles, holding me in place. "Look," he said, lowering his voice. "If life were normal, I would flirt with you a little and ask you out a few days later, followed by a few incredible dates and evenings spent cuddled on the couch or whatever it is normal people do. But my life isn't normal, Evelyn, and neither, I'm afraid, is yours. So this is what we got stuck with instead—a shady deal with a desperate man in order to manipulate my way into your life. The fact is I am now legally obligated to protect you and, right now, you're not safe here!"

  "But if you paid off Dad's debts, why am I still in danger? What about Dad and the twins?"

  "Otto and the twins are safe—they'll be fine. I told you."

  "Then I don't understand!" I cried, exacerbated. "What is this big danger that has you so ready to go to prison?"

  "It's complicated," Jonah replied. He loosened his grip on my wrists, dropping his hands to hold mine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath then met my gaze again. "I can't explain everything right now—and not here—but I promise, Evelyn, I will explain."

  "How convenient," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "A mysterious danger you can't tell me about forcing you to steal me away from my family and my life."

  "I'm not lying to you," Jonah scowled. "I may be morally gray at times and an arguably underhanded businessman but I'm not a liar."

  "And why on earth should I believe you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

  "Because you have no other choice," he said seriously. I had to admit, he had me there.

  "Are you two done airing our dirty laundry on the front lawn or do you have a few more family secrets you want to scream about for the neighbors?" Dad barked from the front porch.

  Jonah paled for a moment before his face reverted back to his usual scowl, releasing one of my hands and pulling me back to the house behind him with the other. I stumbled after him, too embarrassed to protest. I sincerely hoped most of our neighbors were already at work or deaf and hadn't heard us. The last thing I needed was our neighbors spreading gossip about our strange situation. Even when Mom was alive, we were a private family who kept our troubles to ourselves. It was bad enough most of the city knew about my father's downfall from the best law firm to the lowest gambling dens; they didn't need to know just how far we fell.

  "Are you packed?" Jonah asked, his voice casual and distant.

  "Huh? Oh, right—yeah," I nodded.

  During my night of insomnia I had thrown together a suitcase of clothes. I was pretty sure it was all wrinkled and none of it probably even matched; I packed in an angry rage, blindly ripping clothes out of my dresser drawer and shoving them into the only suitcase I owned. With my luck I probably ended up with a bunch of skirts, a stained shirt, and no underwear or something equally ludicrous.

  "Go get it," Jonah said forcefully, igniting my temper and earning another glare. "I have a few things to say to your father."

  "Don't order me around like a child," I spat.

  "Please go get your suitcase," he repeated through gritted teeth. It was a small improvement but I stomped up the stairs anyway.

  I lingered in my bedroom, not sure when I would be back there. It was strange saying goodbye to a room, but after twenty years of calling it mine, it felt necessary. Besides, anything that helped me stall and delay our departure was appreciated. I checked the contents of my suitcase, making a few necessary adjustments so I wouldn't be prancing around Jonah's place in my bra and pajama bottoms, which prompted me to strip down for a shower and a change of clothes. I wasn't exactly getting ready to go out on the town, but I couldn't bum around in Mickey Mouse pajamas all day either.

  Per my usual routine, I flipped on the little radio I kept in the bathroom, singing loudly—and badly—while I shampooed, conditioned, and washed the dirt, sweat, and grime from my body. I was belting an Adele song when I finished, throwing aside the curtain to grab a towel and promptly screamed. My terrible singing had lured an audience.

  The radio had drowned out the sound of Jonah's entrance, so when I began stepping out of the shower and saw him standing there in the doorway of my bathroom—looking incredibly amused and pleased with himself—I was understandably surprised. As I screamed, I automatically leaned back into the shower to grab for the curtain to cover myself, but the wet tub was against me and my foot slipped. I grabbed the shower curtain the same time I started to fall, which only managed to bring the curtain and the rod down on top of me when I fell on my rear end.

  "Ev—" Jonah cried, his amusement wiped from his face.

  He rushed to the tub, reaching to help me out at the same time I was trying to get my feet under me again. One hand was at my waist, the other under my arm as he attempted to lift me from my armpit but only managed to palm the side of my breast. I squeaked in surprise when his other hand missed my waist and grabbed my butt instead.

  I jumped to my feet, eyes wide, bringing the curtain rod up with me that had been resting across my shoulder and slamming it—accidentally—against Jonah's head. Reeling from the impact, he stumbled backward, tripping over the bathroom rug, and landed on his own rear end while I clutched the curtain around me and tried to suppress my giggle and remember I was furious with him. He just looked so ridiculous sprawled on my bathroom tile, blinking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

  "What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to sound angry instead of amused.

  "Counting ceiling tiles," he muttered, finally sitting up and rubbing a sore spot on his temple.

  "I mean in my bathroom!" I clarified.

  "Oh," he gave me a dimpled grin. "Listening to you sing."

  "My singing? My singing makes babies cry and dogs bark," I scoffed.

  "But you sounded so happy," Jonah commented, grunting a little when he pushed to his feet again. "That curtain suits you,?" he smirked, winking at me.

  "Get out!" I cried, pointing wildly to the door. The shower curtain slipped and I hastily grabbed it again, although not before Jonah got another good look at my breasts. He ogled me with his crooked grin until I shouted at him again and he finally left. I didn't move until I heard the bedroom door close.

  I tried to tell myself that the bathroom was just warm from the steam from my shower, but I wasn't very convincing. I was flushed all over from Jonah's touch, however brief. It was incredibly irritating how I kept reacting that way every time his skin brushed mine. It was silly to get all hot and bothered over such trivial, innocent touching.

  Not so innocent, I reprimanded myself. Jonah made it perfectly clear from the beginning about his end goal. I was naive and stupid if I thought his intentions were anything but seductive. Hence spying on you in the shower.

  I too
k my time getting ready after that solely to annoy Jonah by delaying our departure. If he was taking me away to seduce me in some fancy mansion of his, I wasn't entirely sure how long I could hold out, not with the way his faintest touch made my heart beat faster and stirred a fire inside me that was an entirely new experience—one that I didn't want to end.

  Stop it, I scolded my reflection. He's just manipulating you—trying to take advantage of you! He promised to take care of my family, but it was never said anywhere I had to put out in order for that to happen. Stay strong—just stay strong and think of un-sexy things! Baseball, steamed peas, info-mericals, shirtless old men at the pool...I wonder what Jonah looks like shirtless.... "Stop!" I scowled at myself, slapping myself across the cheek. "Get it together! You're a glorified hostage," I reminded myself out loud. "You do not like him!"

  Except every time I saw that stupid little dimple, my stomach flipped over and the strange flame was revived inside me. If I wasn't careful, Jonah Carson was going to fan it into a bonfire and I was going to be the one getting burned.

  "You do not like him," I repeated. But I still wasn't very convincing.

  Jonah and Dad were waiting downstairs for me when I finally emerged, suitcase in hand. Dad stood awkwardly next to Jonah and wouldn’t look me in the face, instead staring at scuffed shoes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Jonah, in contrast, stood as still and firm as a statue, arms crossed over his broad chest, his tattooed bicep flexed and pushing the limits of his sleeve. As mad as I was at my father for selling me to Jonah Carson to pay off his gambling debts, I felt tears threatening when I thought of leaving, not knowing when I would see him—or anyone else from my life—again. Twice a year wasn’t enough time with my family, not for me.

  “Behave,” I told my father, feeling more like the parent than the child. He kept his eyes on his shoes and grunted a vague retort.

  Was that really all he was going to give me? A half-hearted grunt? Considering the situation—and the fact that it was all his fault—I expected a little more regret or apology or…or something! Instead, Dad cut himself off from me. Why was I surprised? He did the same thing when Mom died—hell, he never really came back. His feeble attempt to be a father at breakfast was a sad shell of the father he used to be to the three of us and it saddened me that I would never see that man again. I hadn’t seen him in years.

  "Alright,” I sighed, turning to Jonah. “I guess I’m ready.” He reached for my suitcase, his fingers brushing across mine, lingering a moment too long before taking the suitcase out of my hand. Hot tingles tickled across my skin and shot up my arm and my heart beat a quick rhythm in my chest. How was it possible such innocent touches evoked such intense reactions from me? Was I so starved for human interaction—especially of the male variety—that a brush of fingers made my heart skip and my knees weaken? I clenched my fist and held my chin a little higher. I couldn’t let my guard down with Jonah—if I did, I was sure I was going to regret it.

  Jonah met my eyes for a single, hot moment before he turned and marched out of the house, leaving me alone with my father for the first time in what felt like forever.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said softly. I was tempted to tell him that Jonah had promised to take care of the twins, but I didn’t want him to use it as an excuse to continue being a terrible father. “The carpool will keep taking them to school every morning,” I said, rattling off my list like a clingy mother. “They can’t be late or they’ll get written up again,” I said. “Don’t let Addis eat sugar all the time and Ava will try to get you to let her stay up late and watch bad TV but don’t let her—she gets bad dreams. And—“

  “I know how to parent my own children,” Dad growled at me, finally looking at me with a glare.

  “Prove it,” I hissed back.

  I didn’t wait for him to retort and start a whole new argument. I spun around and fled from the house like it was on fire. In a way, it was—everything my life used to be was going up in flames. I hesitated at the car door, half inside the vehicle as Jonah tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, and I stared at the house.

  The child in me wanted Dad to run out and apologize and give me a big hug and fix everything. Growing up, I used to think Dad could do anything. I learned the hard way it wasn’t true, but a part of me still clung to the hope that he would finally come through for me. But the door didn’t open and eventually the small thread of hope I clung to fell apart like all the others and I got into Jonah’s waiting car.

  FIVE

  I wasn't sure where we were going except that we were leaving Sinclair Falls and Jonah wasn't particularly talkative about our destination either. The only sound during the car ride was the radio set to a rock station that crackled more the further from town we went. At one point, Jonah started tapping his hand in rhythm to one of the songs against the steering wheel then seemed to catch himself having too much fun and immediately stopped, gripping it tightly instead.

  His silence suited me fine. I wasn't exactly in a mood for chatter. Between my father's troubles, the twins' well-being, and the sizzling man driving me away from my life, I had plenty to think about.

  The small part of me that was still an optimist hoped that Dad did as he promised and would clean up his act and really take care of Addis and Ava. Even if I wasn't around to see it or enjoy it, I hoped and prayed that the man I used to know as my father would return, even in some small amount.

  The pessimist, however, that had taken over most of my rational thoughts since the death of my mother, knew not to expect anything more than he was already—if not less. He was desperate enough to give away his own daughter instead of fix his own mess. What made me think he would do it for Addis and Ava?

  My only hope was the brooding devil beside me. According to the contract, Jonah Carson was named my legal "protector". I wasn't a minor anymore but there was an obscure Sinclair Falls law about legal adults still living under the "protection" of their parents. It was laughable thinking of my father as protecting me the last few years, but the law worked in Jonah's favor. It was like guardianship but for adults and could be transferred to someone else like them too, either by court order or the agreement of the parents. In my case, parent. Singular.

  I was fairly certain the law hadn't been used or enforced in decades and certainly not for the same purpose Jonah was exploiting it for. Of course, aside from getting me into his bed—which was certainly not happening—I wasn't sure why on earth Jonah Carson would go to so much trouble for someone as insignificant as myself.

  And then there was Trent.... He did so much for me and the twins over the last few years, sometimes sacrificing his own time and money to help us with something as minor as a birthday present for the twins or fixing a broken window after Addis played soccer in the house. Trent certainly went to a lot of trouble for our family—for me.

  Why was that? It didn't make any sense. I wasn't anyone special. I was just the over-worked, slightly-neglected daughter of an ex-lawyer turned compulsive gambler. I barely warranted the notice of my coworkers or the few customers I interacted with, let alone someone as powerful as Jonah Carson or as kind as Trent Gallegos. I might never see Trent again and would never know the answer.

  With a sigh, I propped my elbow on the window and dropped my chin in my hand, watching the scenery whiz past. Jonah was a wealthy man and could afford the nicest cars money could buy and he did. The car I sat in was sleek and charcoal gray with leather interior. The digital dashboard showed temperature control, radio, volume, and a whole bunch of other icons I didn't even recognize. He barely glanced at the dash, however, keeping his eyes on the twisting road.

  Jonah drove like he was in a race, taking turns so fast I was afraid we would tip onto two wheels. The faster he drove the tighter he gripped the steering wheel, his mouth pressed into a hard line. I wasn't sure what he was angry about. He got his way, hadn't he? He had me—legally bound until the unforeseeable future. Wasn't I supposed to be the angr
y one?

  I pulled my gaze from Jonah and refocused on the scenery we fled past. I realized for the first time we were headed for the mountains—had already started to ascend, winding up the side of the nearest peak, Ash Mountain, at break-neck speed. One wrong turn and we would be flung down the side in a cascade of rock. I prayed Jonah was an excellent driver.

  It was another ten minutes before we finally slowed down and I felt safe enough to take a full breath without fear of distracting Jonah and accidentally running over the edge of a cliff. His hold on the steering wheel, however, didn't relax and he didn't speak. I wasn't about to break the silence, either. I still hated him for devising the whole stupid contract in the first place, and despised him even more for the way his little touches made my heart leap and my skin burn. I never knew heat like that could be so...pleasurable. It almost made me want to walk into a burning building and see if I had an orgasm....Almost.

  Finally, after an hour drive, the car stopped. Slowly, I got out of the car and stared at the view. Sinclair Falls was so far below us but somehow I still felt like I wasn't far from home. Vertical distance didn't feel the same as a horizontal distance. Part of me was a little comforted seeing the tiny little town nestled at the foot of the mountain. Almost like I could keep an eye on my family from above. Maybe it was how Mom saw us, too.