by S. M. West
Dark clouds of rage shadow his face, tighten his jaw and spark his vitriol. “I am the only one who has ever seen you for what you are, Thomasina. You belong with me. Those men don’t see you. Not even Evan or Max.”
He spits onto the floor as if their names leave a vile taste in his mouth. I stiffen when he leans in, fearful of what pain he is about to inflict. Instead, he cups my cheek, gentler than I anticipate. “None of them know your true worth.”
If I could strike him dead with a mere look, he would be six feet under. “My true worth? You know nothing of my worth, let alone anything else.”
“Ah, always so quick with that tongue. Lashing out to hurt.” His thumb digs into the pressure point at the side of my jaw where, if he chose, he could pry open my mouth.
I want to shake him off and I could, but I don’t. He can’t know that I’ve regained the full use of my body. All my nerve-endings tickle, sparking with the desperate need to flee.
“One of these days you may lose it.” He sinks his thumb further into my flesh.
Frantic, my pulse picks up speed and I clench my jaw tighter in case he decides to follow through and rip out my tongue. No threat is idle, no deed too messy or impossible where Ash is concerned.
And this particular threat isn’t new. Once, years ago, he did torture my tongue. I flinch, remembering the day my mouth was forced open, tongue clamped while cut many times with the jagged edge of some kind of blade.
The pain was endless, lasting well past the torture. I could barely eat or drink for days. Years later, with time, distance and therapy, I discovered the technique was a form of torture used by medieval inquisitors. Tears prick at the back of my eyes when he finally releases my jaw.
“You’re a brilliant mind. A genius. And your beauty. So much more than skin deep. I alone value your worth.”
I convulse, rage like an earthquake thundering through my body. He speaks as if ours was some great love. There was no love. Only hate, power and pain.
“Get out.” My scream is met with his laughter.
He takes several steps from the bed, pointing to the front door, taunting. The door is only a few feet away but it might as well be in another country. As if I could get up and leave if I wanted.
Even naked, which wouldn’t stop me from running for help, I wouldn’t get too far. He enjoys the chase, but he wouldn’t let me make it to the door.
The bathroom. It’s closer. I’ve got a gun hidden under the lid of the toilet. Unless he’s already found it and taken it. The path to the only room in this place is clear with him standing to the side. I may be able to get there before he catches me.
With my gaze fixed on the door, I bound from the bed, legs wobbly and each stride frenzied and unsure. I stumble across the wooden floor, careening into the bathroom as Ash’s movements are quick and loud behind me.
His dark, stormy gaze locks with mine as I slam the door and for a second, I wonder if he let me get away? My still-numb fingers fumble with the lock, knowing full well that if he wants in here, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
Edging away from the door, I crouch so my bottom hits the floor, eyes fixed on the door as my back rests against the bathtub. With my legs outstretched, the room is small enough that both feet press into the wooden door.
I tremble, arms around my middle to keep from falling apart. Look at me, I’m a blubbering mess on my bathroom floor. The monster is only feet away and if he tries to bust through the door… I need my gun.
Now on my knees, I quietly lift the lid off the toilet and sweet relief devours my terror. My Beretta M9 is where I left it, duct-taped to the underside of the porcelain.
Stilling, I listen for signs of Ash but there’s only silence. What the hell is he doing? In one swift move, I rip the gun from its hiding spot, replace the lid and get back into position. Now, my hand wraps around the grip, arms outstretched and pistol aimed at the door, ready should he come crashing in.
Seconds tick by like hours. Finally the front door shuts and the faint vibration of the lock clicking into place carries through the thin walls. My limbs tremble, still rigid in their position, and I stay seated for a while longer, both scared and wired. I don’t want to jump the gun and find Ash waiting for me or to wait too long and have him come back.
I’m hyperaware and tense. This could be a ploy to lull me into a false sense of security while he waits to pounce. He loves his games, but I’ve got a gun now and I’m more than ready to play.
I’ll be in here all day if I don’t do something. I snatch my silk robe from the hook on the back of the door and carefully, oh so quietly, open it. Nothing happens. Excitement prickles up my spine.
Stepping into the room, I search my apartment, starting with the rows upon rows, three deep, of clothes racks lining one wall, across the bed and into the kitchen. Nothing. I am alone.
Shaking, my body feels like it’s encased in Jell-O, coming down from the high, as useless tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Everything is blurry thanks to the uncontrollable waterworks; I search for my phone as I recall what Ash said about Van not coming to look for me. I grab the device off the bedside table, angrily swiping at my wet cheeks.
Shit, texts were sent to Van, Max and Anna last night, letting them all know I was back at HC and going to bed.
Zero. Fuck!
Just then, there’s a sudden banging on the front door and I scream, nearly jumping out of my skin.
Max calls my name at the same time Van’s gruff voice reverberates through the wood, impatient and angry. “Tommie, open up or I’m coming in.”
My knees buckle and I grab onto the wall for support, now more relieved than ever that they are here. Another fist to the door and I quickly throw it open.
Max grabs me in his arms. “Are you okay?”
Evan barrels into my studio, gun out. Tall, broad and muscled, he eats up most of my apartment. “Was Ash here?”
I nod into Max’s chest, unable to control my trembling, and he holds me. His scent. A ball of inhibited emotions courses through me and I cling to him.
“Tommie girl, you okay?” Van is now at my side, hand brushing away the hair from my face.
Lifting my head, Van’s countenance suddenly softens as he takes the gun from my grip. Max’s fingers slide under my chin to turn my gaze to him.
The unabashed look in his sea green eyes is raw and honest. Compassion and concern and maybe even something more. “Thank God you’re all right. You are, aren’t you?”
“What the fuck happened?” Van rests his gun next to mine on the table.
I cave like a ragdoll, bursting like a dam into uncontrolled sobs. Relief floods my body, untangling my tight, at-the-ready muscles.
“Ash…” I cover my hand with my mouth, trying to hold back my distress and anger.
Max rubs my back soothingly and Van clutches my hand, reassuring both of us that I’m here and it’s okay. When I finally rid myself of most of my pent-up emotions, I dry my eyes and straighten to my full height. Max reluctantly releases me, staying at my side.
I glance down at myself and shake my head, wondering what they must see. A robe haphazardly covering my body, hair in disarray and tears staining my cheeks. We move to the couch. Van sits next to me and Max on the coffee table in front of me.
I don’t hold back and tell them everything. The little I remember from the coffee shop, coming home, passing out and waking up beside Ash. I also mention the texts they received from me and how they must have been sent by Zero.
The chattering of my teeth is relentless and the trembling of my body incessant. No matter what I do, reliving it sends chills through me and I’m unable to get warm.
A cold has seeped far and wide into my skin and bones, settling into my soul. Max wraps me in a blanket and scoops me onto his lap. Van fishes the coffee cup from my garbage. He’ll get it tested along with my blood to find out what drug I was given.
“He’s made two moves now. Fuck, the next one…” Van rakes his hand throug
h his hair and crouches in front of me. “I’m putting someone on you at all times.”
His expression brooks no chance of rebuttal or refusal. And I’m not about to argue.
“Why didn’t he take you?” Max tightens his hold and I’m comforted by his protective move.
“I think he will eventually, but…” I bite my bottom lip, fighting any lingering fear.
“But what?” Van scowls, his frustration not directed at me but the situation.
“He’s fucking with me. He wants me to know that he can, and he will get to me at any time. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
Max
“This looks amazing. I still can’t believe you cooked all this.” I carry the aromatic chicken tagine to the table in the HC dining room and set it next to the bowl of couscous.
Tommie follows, placing a Moroccan carrot dish with the rest of the meal. “I should be insulted that you’re having a hard time believing I can cook.”
Hands on her hips, she tries to pull off a glare but there isn’t an ounce of offence to her countenance. I pull out a chair, motioning for her to sit, before taking the one next to her.
“I’m just in awe of your talents.”
“This isn’t difficult.” She waves away the culinary masterpiece before us.
“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in I don’t know how long.” I spoon the fluffy orange-yellow couscous onto my plate and hope I can eat.
My appetite has all but disappeared today. After arriving at HC with breakfast burritos to see Tommie as promised, I nearly had a heart attack to discover she’d never showed up the night before.
I called in reinforcements and right away, Van checked the tracker on her phone—the little blinking dot said she was at her apartment, which made no sense. She’d texted me when she left her place last night.
Charged with fear and my heart in my throat, we broke every speed limit getting to Tommie. My mind was a mess with scenarios I would never hope for anyone, let alone the woman I love.
When she opened her front door, my relief was palpable, coursing through my veins like jet fuel. My heart nearly beat right out of my chest, and Tommie, shit, she was a wreck.
I almost threw up when she recounted what happened and how she woke up to Ash next to her. I was both incensed, wanting to kill him, and terrified. I’d never felt so helpless and scared in my life. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, clinging to her as I sank against the wall, no longer able to support my own weight.
Now it’s early afternoon and we’re at HC, where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. In addition to a toxicology test, which I’ve no doubt will prove the coffee was laced with something, we also reviewed the recording inside her apartment.
Thank fuck he didn’t do anything more twisted than watch her sleep. Ash, the sick creeper, must have gone directly from the warehouse, where he’d been with Taya and me, to her apartment. The phone notification at the warehouse must have told him she was passed out.
If only I’d known…
After last night, with Taya holding Tate at gunpoint and threatening the baby, and Tommie being drugged by Ash, HC has closed ranks. Ry took Tate, his sons and his mother, as well as Van’s wife and kids, to a safe house outside of the city. And tomorrow’s farewell party for Anna and Coop—they leave for Italy in a day—has been cancelled.
Neither Taya nor Ash will get to us.
“Is that enough?” Tommie asks, dishing salad onto my plate.
Her question pulls me from the hell of the past day and I’m so relieved to be here with her. She insisted on cooking dinner, not only for us but those of the HC crew who are working tonight.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Good. I forgot how much I enjoy cooking. It’s hard to make something like this for just one person.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mom.” Her tone is melancholy, as is her expression.
“Well, it looks like she was a good cook.” I dig in.
“Yes, and a great teacher. We would spend hours in the kitchen together. I suppose that’s another reason why I haven’t cooked in forever. It makes me think of her.”
“You must miss them. Your parents.” I don’t want to push too far, too fast, but I want all of her. Her past and her future.
She’s been through a lot in the past day and while she seems to be dealing well with it, I’m not so sure.
“Yes.” She plays with her food. “And with Ash coming back last night… my parents are on my mind more than ever.”
“That’s understandable.” I take a mouthful of the rich chicken. “Mmm, this is amazing.”
She returns the compliment with a genuine smile. “Thanks. I like cooking for you.”
Gunnar whines from his position on the floor at our feet, begging for a morsel or two.
“Sorry, bud, there’s nothing for you.” Tommie also insisted on getting the dog on our way to HC and I was all too happy to oblige.
Squeezing her hand, I dip my chin to her full fork, and she gets my drift, bringing it to her mouth. I bet she doesn’t have much of an appetite either, but she needs sustenance.
We attempt to eat at least half of what’s on our plates and after dinner, I clean up while she checks out the other conference room, where the meal she prepared for her colleagues has been devoured. She returns beaming and we head to her room to grab Gunnar’s leash for his walk. Her phone rings on our way out.
“It’s Anna.” She flips the screen to me and answers it. “Hey, you. How are you doing?”
It’s a warm summer night and we interlace our fingers, my thumb drawing lazy circles on the inside of her wrist as we stroll the streets. Even many hours later, I still find myself needing reassurance that she’s okay.
She talks with Anna for a bit and her tone is wistful, almost melancholy. “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Say hi to Coop. Love you.”
She shoves her phone into her pocket and I bring our joined hands to my lips, lightly kissing the top of her knuckles. “You okay?”
“Sure. She’s going to come by HC tomorrow.” She shrugs. “It just sucks that there’s no party for them.”
“And what about her leaving?”
“I always hoped she’d take this gig. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m going to miss her, obviously, but I’ll visit. And she’s coming back.”
“How about when this is all over we go to Italy together and visit them?”
She stops, glancing up at me, eyes wide and sparkling. “Really? I’d like that.”
My chest warms at seeing her mood lifted, at giving her something to look forward to when this nightmare is behind us. “Good. It’s a date then.”
I open the glass door to the office building, and she leads the way to the bank of elevators.
“Are you going to come back up or head home?” Stepping into the car, she presses the button for her floor and then bends to nuzzle the dog’s neck.
“I was hoping to stay a little longer.” She lifts her head, and call it wishful thinking, but I swear there’s a hopeful glint in her eye. “Maybe even stay the night? I could crash on the couch.”
She’s staying in the biggest of the rooms, with a double bed and pull-out loveseat, and while I would prefer sleeping next to her, I’m not going to be presumptuous.
“You’d stay?” Tommie exits, taking Gunnar with her.
“Yes. I wanted you to stay with me, but since Van won’t agree to that and I can’t say I disagree… Anyway.”
I shake my head, trying to erase the dark thoughts whirring through my mind. Her protection is real and top priority, and I want to do my part to ensure her safety, at all costs.
“I just want to hang out with you as long as I can.”
I should be more careful with my words, more guarded so as not to spook her with the idea of us, but with last night’s scare, I can’t seem to hold back.
“Yes. I want that too.”
Maybe she feels the same way? F
orget dithering or wasting time, let’s just be open and honest with each other about what we want. Life is too short and too precious.
“Good.” I take her hand in mine and she punches in a code on the keypad above the door handle. “You up for a movie?”
“Always.” Her smile is brilliant and my stomach flips.
“Great. That new action movie you wanted to watch is out. Do you have any snacks?” I suddenly have the munchies.
“We just ate.” She lightly pats my abs before bending to remove the dog’s leash. “But I’ve got popcorn.”
“Sweet. Another reason we’re good together.”
Standing, she stills in the entrance, eyes darkening with yearning. Her hand sinks into my hair, fingers wrapping around the nape of my neck to pull me to her. I lick my lips, pressing them together, contemplating whether I should just devour her luscious mouth or start with soft, chaste kisses.
I want to kiss her. Taste her again. And maybe she wants it too but what if I’m reading the situation wrong, blinded by my own desire? What she may need right now is for us to go slow, or maybe even pause. Words are one thing, stating what you want or how you feel, but acting on them takes things to another level. I don’t want to rush her.
Stopping myself from taking her mouth, my lips skate across her soft forehead and she digs her nails into my scalp with a groan.
“Max, don’t treat me like I’ll break.” She pulls my face down toward hers.
“I’m not. But you’ve been through a lot and I’m good with slow. I want you in any way and at any pace you want.”
An easy smile stretches across her face and my chest threatens to explode. The joy and tenderness in her features, not an inkling of darkness or doubt, settles all my worries before she even says a word.
“I’ve been through much worse than the past twenty-four hours, and believe me when I tell you, I’m okay. I promise if I wasn’t, you’d know.”
“Good, because you can tell me anything.” This time I press my lips to hers and the kiss is long and lazy.
