by Eden Summers
“Robert must have worked over one of my assets,” he says around a gulp of liquor. “Maybe someone at the airport put a tracker on Ben’s car. Or accessed bank records to get location receipts.”
It’s a long shot. Too fucking long for Torian to be aiming at.
“You think so?” I plant my feet and scrub a hand over my mouth, my neck.
“No.” He narrows his eyes on me, waiting, tormenting. “I don’t know how he’s finding them.” He shrugs, losing the hint of suspicion. “But the resources of my father and his men no longer surprise me. The one thing I do know is that we need to shut this down, and quick.”
I keep rubbing my neck, attempting to relieve the tension building at the base of my skull. “What about those women? When are you going to start protecting them?”
“It’s done. Benji gave me the details when he called for me to open the gate. Men are on their way now.”
On their way to where?
I want to know those details. I need to find out if Benji took so long to get here because he was one of the shooters. “You don’t want me to go for a drive and bring them back to Portland?”
“No. I don’t want them any closer than they already are. I need to remain distanced from my father’s mistakes. For now, they’re safe.” He places his empty glass on the coffee table. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
I nod, not turning from my tormented reflection in the glass as he walks from the room.
My headache returns full force. My stomach wants to revolt.
I need answers, goddamnit.
I have to know if Benji is involved. If he has anything to do with Abi’s death or this afternoon’s shooting.
I have to fucking know.
The longer I stand here without a clue, without fucking grounding, the more I picture my brother doing stupid, unforgivable shit.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I snarl. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”
I cock my fist, needing to punch something. Anything.
I need answers. Not in the morning. Not when Benji’s ready.
Fucking now.
I slam my glass down on the coffee table and stalk for the far hall. I open door after door, finding Tobias sleeping, then spare room after spare room before hitting the jackpot.
I don’t have to see my brother through the darkness to know he’s here. The familiar stuttered snore says it all and Layla’s quiet breaths are an unwelcomed accompaniment, as I pad forward to stop beside the bed.
He’s barely visible. There’s only the red glow from the bedside clock to give the faint perception of where he is. But it’s him. I know this man almost better than I know myself. At least, I thought I did.
The pound of my chest increases as I watch him sleep. He’s saved my life a million times. He’s all I’ve ever had. And now he could be everything that brings me undone.
He’s unsettled while he rests.
Twitchy.
Something’s playing on his mind, and I’m certain it could get us both killed.
He grunts. Groans. Snores some more. The restlessness adds fuel to my paranoia, ratchets my pulse, and feeds the pain in my temples.
All my adult life I’ve attempted to make up for needing his protection as a child. I’ve tried to repay him for the beatings he took on my behalf. I gave up income and a career and grounding.
But if he’s helping Robert… If he’s assisting in the murder of innocent women…
I pull the gun from the back of my jeans, my hand trembling as I guide the barrel to rest against the side of his throat.
He’s guilty. Of what I’m not sure. But he’s guilty of something.
I press the barrel harder, digging it into his neck.
His breathing shudders.
Chokes.
He stiffens. His eyes open.
“It’s me,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “It’s time to start talking.”
“Jesus,” he hisses. “Are you insane? You’ll wake—”
“If your snoring didn’t wake her, this won’t either. So, start talking, otherwise Torian is going to get involved, and I have the distinct impression you’re not going to want that to happen.”
He falls quiet, confirming my suspicions, fucking nailing them to the wall.
“Did you kill her?” I squeeze the gun in my sweating palm. “Did you kill Abi?”
“No,” he snarls.
It’s fucking bullshit.
“What about the woman attacked today? Were you involved?”
“What woman? What fucking attack?”
I scoff a breathy laugh. “Don’t play dumb. I swear to God, it’s only out of loyalty and your marriage to his sister that Torian isn’t all over your ass right now. He’ll see through the blinders soon enough.”
“Get that fucking gun away from me, Luca.”
I dig the barrel harder. “Then fucking talk.”
There’s a rustle of bedsheets. A squeak of mattress springs. A murmured, “Daddy?”
My stomach dives.
Stella is in here. In the bed. Near the pointed gun of a man influenced by alcohol.
“It’s okay, baby,” Benji whispers. “Go back to sleep.”
I lower to my knees, sinking into the darkness as my gun remains in place.
For long moments, there’s no movement. No noise. Then the slightest whimper of sleep breaches the air, the sound feminine and young.
“Get out of here,” he seethes. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“No. We do this now.”
“Jesus, Luc.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “I didn’t hurt those women.”
I don’t believe him. I fucking don’t.
God knows I want to. I’d give anything to build a life here with Penny. To settle down and find some sort of normal. But every time I gain footing, he pulls the rug out from beneath me. “You’ve got two seconds to start—”
“I’m cheating on her,” he whispers.
I snap rigid, mindlessly blinking for long moments. I don’t understand. What he confessed doesn’t make sense. “What did you say?”
“I’m cheating on Layla. There’s another woman. That’s what I’ve been keeping from you. That’s why I’ve been distant.”
No.
He wouldn’t be that stupid.
He couldn’t.
Cheating on Torian’s sister is a death sentence. He knows that. Hell, everyone in a hundred-mile radius is well aware without anyone needing to write the fucking memo.
“I didn’t plan for it to happen,” he continues. “It was meant to be a one-time thing. I was a wreck with this goddamn Luther mess. I just needed an outlet.”
I fall on my ass, the news hitting hard.
If this gets out Stella will lose her father. Layla will bury a husband. I’ll have no family left.
I shake my head and lower the gun, unable to hold it steady. “Who? Where? How long?” I can’t stop the questions.
“It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.”
I hang my head, my legs bent before me, the darkness consuming everything. Inside and out. “If Torian finds out—”
“I know.”
“If anyone finds—”
“I know,” he grates. “And I’ll fix it. I just need you to buy me some time.”
“Me? How could you be so fucking stupid?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
If the past is any indication, he’s already consumed with guilt. He always is. But it never stops him causing more destruction. The remorse doesn’t starve his need to self-sabotage.
I push to my feet and shove my gun into the back of my waistband before I’m tempted to do something I’ll regret. “I swear to God, Benji. Find a way to keep this quiet or I’ll kill you myself.”
23
Penny
I stare at the darkened ceiling, unable to sleep.
I don’t know where Luca is or how long he’ll be gone. The only thing I’m certain of is
the discomfort of not having him near.
I’m nothing without him. All my happiness and comfort is woven with each of his breaths. And when he’s close, I’m okay with that dependence.
It’s far better than keeping the company of hopelessness.
I try to picture what a future between us would look like. I shut my eyes, imagining normalcy and routine. What I wouldn’t give for those things.
It isn’t until sleep brushes me with gentle strokes that the bedroom door squeaks. Open, then closed. I tense, instinctively assuming a threat draws near. But my frantic heartbeat quickly fades at the measured footsteps making their way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut before the light flicks on to cast a slight glow over the room.
My stomach warms as the shower starts. The thought of Luca relaxed beneath the water makes me smile.
I slide from bed, needing to be closer to him, my oversized T-shirt billowing at my thighs as I pad to the bathroom. I shouldn’t disturb his privacy. He’d never do the same with mine. But I can’t help testing the door handle, and when I find it unlocked, I have no restraint to remain distanced.
I blink rapidly against the bright light and enter the room to lean against the vanity.
His head is bowed under the shower spray, his hair shrouding his eyes as his arms stretch to the wall before him as if it takes all his strength to hold himself upright.
He’s not the picture of relaxation I envisaged. He seems defeated. Exhausted.
I don’t think he even knows I’m here as he remains immobile, the rivulets of water coursing over the rugged lines of his shoulders and the angry scars along his back.
He’s gorgeous.
Physically. Mentally. Probably spiritually, too, if I’d taken the time to learn more about him instead of being stuck in my own head.
I never could’ve imagined looking at a male’s naked body without feeling anything but fear. Yet that icy chill doesn’t brush my senses. Instead, warmth increases, and it’s not from the steam filling the small space around us.
“What are you doing in here, shorty?” He keeps his hands on the tile, his head dropping lower.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I don’t let my gaze dip below waist-height, not willing to face that challenge just yet. “I wanted to see you.”
His tension doesn’t lessen as he shuts off the taps and opens the shower door, the faintest wrinkle settled between his brows. He grabs a towel from the rail and gently scrubs the water from his hair, unfazed by his nudity while he wipes himself dry and tucks the plush material around his waist.
“Does your head still hurt?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He steps onto the bathmat, his chest peppered with water droplets. “Turns out your brother can pack a punch after all.”
“Do you need to see a doctor?”
He walks toward me, frowning. “Stop worrying about me. I’ll sleep it off.”
I can’t. I am worried.
His pain seems deeper than normal. And the distinct scent of alcohol on his breath only heightens my concern.
“Where have you been?” I push from the vanity and raise a hand, sliding a palm over his cheek, stroking his prickly stubble with my thumb.
He tilts his face into my touch. “You trying to keep tabs on me already?”
“No. I—”
“It doesn’t matter where I was, shorty. I’m here now.”
I ignore the twinge of rejection.
He doesn’t want me clued in, and I have to be okay with that.
I won’t demand his secrets again. For once, it seems my savior needs saving and I want to take that role. “You’re exhausted. It’s my turn to look after you.”
His grin is subtle. Half-hearted, yet so unbelievably handsome.
I inch closer, placing my lips to his, facing another fear as I taste the liquor on his tongue.
He groans into the connection, his hands tangling into the shirt at my hips before he pulls back. “I should sleep in another room.”
“Why?” My hand falls to my side.
“I can’t do this tonight, Pen.”
My heart tears. Fractures. “Do what? Be around me?”
He cringes. “The world is fucking crumbling, and I can’t think clearly. I’ve got no restraint. I shouldn’t have started drinking.”
“You’re not a monster, Luca. You don’t need restraint.”
“No. You—”
“No.” I counter, more adamant. “This shouldn’t be one-sided. You can’t be the strong one all the time. I need you to need me. I need you to want me.”
He closes his eyes and rests his head against mine. “I’ve always fucking wanted you.”
I feel those words, the agonizing admission sinking into my marrow. I can’t stop myself from sliding my hands around his waist to pull him farther into me. Body to body. Hip to hip.
I freeze as the hard length of his shaft presses against my pubic bone. I clasp my lips tight, holding the gasp inside my throat.
I shouldn’t be shocked… but I am.
I shouldn’t be scared… yet there’s some of that, too.
“It kills me every time you tense at my touch,” he murmurs. “That’s why I don’t like doing it. I fucking hate hurting you.”
“It’s muscle memory. Or habit.” I slide my hands over his chest to his face. “It won’t last forever.”
“Maybe not, but I’d prefer to give you space until it’s gone.” He attempts to pull away again, but I hold tight, clamping his jaw in my hands.
“You need to stop seeing intimacy as my biggest hurdle when being like this is my greatest reward. This isn’t comparable to what I went through with Luther. What he did was vicious and cruel. But this…” I shake my head, frantically searching for the words to explain. “This is hope and optimism. It’s kindness and consideration. It bears no resemblance to my nightmares.”
“I get it—”
“No, let me finish.” I implore him with my eyes. “Trying new things might bring up bad memories, but you don’t. You wipe it all away. You’re my prize, Luca. Please let me enjoy it.”
He huffs out a laugh, the sound lacking happiness.
“You don’t believe me?” I grab his hands and guide them to my hips. “Why is it so hard for you to understand that with each touch, each kiss, you help to make me feel normal?”
“Because you’ll never be normal, shorty. Never. You’re too remarkable to be mainstream.”
My heart clenches. Hard. Tight. Punishing.
He keeps strengthening me. Over and over. Constantly making me a little more emboldened with every roughly grated compliment.
“Have I told you how happy I am that you found me?” I run my arms around his neck and brush my mouth over his.
A rumble emanates from his throat, his fingertips tightening on my hips. He kisses me. Gentle. Soulful.
But all too soon he breaks the spell, pulling away to rest his forehead against mine. “There’s something you should know.”
I lean back, seeing the emotion in his eyes differently than I had before. I was wrong. It isn’t exhaustion. It’s sorrow.
My heart clogs my throat. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?”
He nods. “Torian told me—”
“Wait.” I place a finger to his lips. “Are Tobias and Sebastian safe?”
He winces. “Yeah, they are, but—”
“No. Don’t say it,” I beg. “Whatever it is, don’t tell me. Not tonight. Don’t steal me away from being here with you.” I hold his gaze as I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Please just let me have this moment.”
He remains rigid, his muscles locked tight.
“Please.” I shuffle closer, not sure how else to convince him not to ruin this.
I know I’m being selfish. I can’t help it.
I’m needy when it comes to Luca.
I long for his compliments and even his desire. I want everything he has to give and I won’t stand for those moments being marred by inevitable hardships. F
or once, darkness can wait until tomorrow.
“Please, Luca.” I tug him forward by the edge of his towel.
He releases an agonizing groan, his restraint increasing my pulse.
That’s the part of him I enjoy the most—his discipline.
He’s much more of a man than I’ve ever experienced. So much so that I find myself lowering, about to fall to my knees to perform an act I’ve never willingly given before.
“What the fuck?” His hands lash out, one grabbing my upper arm to keep me from sinking farther, the other grasping my chin.
“I want to do this for you.” It’s the truth. I’m curious. And maybe a little sadistic, too. Or even self-sabotaging, waiting for him to disappoint me. But at least I’m doing this of my own free will. It’s my choice. Nobody else’s.
“Like hell.” His nostrils flare as he glares. “Get off your fucking knees. Now.”
His vehemence shocks me, his grip unflinching until I rise to stand before him.
“You will never kneel before a man ever again.” His breathing increases, his chest rapidly rising and falling. “Do you hear me?”
I open my mouth, but words fail me.
“Never,” he growls. “From now on, Pen, you take your fucking place on a pedestal. There’s no servitude. No fucking selflessness.”
“But what if I want—”
“Then you find another fucking way. Do you understand? As long as I live, no man will ever look down on you like that again.”
He renders me speechless and grabs my hips, lifting me to sit on the vanity.
I’m stripped bare of response as he falls to his knees before me, his rough hands sliding along my thighs to grip the side of my ass still covered in the bulking T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” I can’t stop the stupid question escaping my lips. I blame it on the adrenaline rushing through me. The complete madness filling me with power. He elevates me to some sort of godly status, the reversal of our positions making my belly flip and tumble.
I’ve always been the servant. The slave.
Now I’m his master, growing more empowered by the leashed hunger in his eyes.
“Tell me you want this.” He gently parts my legs, slowly inching forward, placing one gentle kiss after another along the flaming-hot skin of my inner thighs. “Or tell me to stop.”
