“Did you have something to add?”
Damn. Now she had to say something. He parked the car in the only available spot two blocks away from her home and exited the vehicle. Emeline eased out of the car; parts of her hurt and would continue at least until she rested. Another advantage of her Null heredity, though when she would have time to rest, she could only guess. Avery walked around to the liftgate and retrieved a canvas bag.
“Planning on moving in?” she quipped. He didn’t answer. If he was going to be the silent type, this seduction was going to take a long time. Luckily, Ridley didn’t give her a time limit.
“You were going to say something, Miss Gamble?” He asked as they walked to her house.
“Nope.”
The boys on the corner sized Avery up. He did the same until they turned away, back to their own business. By the time she walked up the stairs to her front door, nerves made her drop her keys twice before she opened the door.
Emeline flipped on the low hanging chandelier. “Watch your head and sorry about the mess. I was in a rush to leave. You can dump your bag here in the hallway.” She led the way to the kitchen in the rear and adjusted the thermostat to warm the house. Avery walked around the room, checking every window and the back door. He paused at the boarded up window Ridley had purposely broken on her way out of the house. “I don’t have much of a backyard. It’s more like a big slab of concrete.”
He opened the door and exited.
Fine. Don’t believe me.
Her foot tap danced for five minutes while she waited for him to return. The back door opened and he swept in along with a gust of air. “Stay here while I check the rest of the house.” He locked the door and left the kitchen before she could protest.
Yeah, right. Like she was going to let that happen. He strolled into the dining room and didn’t comment on the hospital bed tucked into the corner, the recliner dominating the center or the disassembled dining table and chairs stacked against the opposite wall.
“I gave you an order,” he said as he moved the curtains aside. “It wasn’t for my amusement.”
His raspy voice struck a nerve; hell, it struck more than one. All of them bad. “Good, ’cause it wasn’t funny.”
He stopped and stared at her. A bit nervous, she tidied Grand’s bed.
“This isn’t going to work if you don’t cooperate.”
She folded a blanket and placed it at the foot of the bed. “Just because I’m not letting you roam around my home without me doesn’t mean I’m not cooperating.” She fluffed a pillow. When she turned back, the wide expanse of his chest blocked her view. She looked up. Rugged best described Avery. His features assaulted your senses, demanding you look at him. Take note, before you turned away to heal. Every angle of him oozed aggression and testosterone. Buckets of it. Her ovaries sat up and paid attention. And those deep, grass green eyes with a black quarter in each, sexy and strange. She’d never seen anything like them and didn’t remember the uniqueness noted in his files. Must be a genetic anomaly. Things like that fascinated her. She’d have to Google it.
“You don’t seem like you're cooperating, Miss Gamble.”
Good. He kept it professional. “Then redefine your definition of the word, Mr. Nicolis.”
His eyes narrowed, but the corner of his lip curled. “How long will your grandfather be in the hospital?”
Of course, he knew that. He was at the hospital. “I don’t know. It could be tomorrow, it could be months.”
Avery strolled into the living room and repeated the process. Emeline shucked off her scarf and coat and draped them on the back of the sofa. He glanced at her. His gaze strolled down her body, lingering on her breasts straining in her RedZone uniform top and looked away, though he left a heated trail in his wake.
He headed upstairs. The first stop was the master bedroom. Her room. Clothes, books, papers were scattered everywhere. Again, she tidied while he checked the windows. She followed him to two more bedrooms and the hall bathroom before he returned downstairs. She flopped on the ancient chaise lounge at the foot of her bed, exhausted.
Her clock said one a.m. yet sleep couldn’t be further from her mind. She wanted her privacy, a shower, and food in that order. She would only get two. The bodyguard seemed like a good idea, but having Avery underfoot, watching, waiting, taking up her air had lost its appeal. It was her assignment to survey his movements whenever he was in New York. The Order had the Nicolis men and quite a few other demi-gods under constant surveillance. She was one of many, yet had to quit when Grand refused to go back into a nursing home.
But she needed Avery. The one thing she wasn’t comfortable with. Needing someone left you open to their failures and downfall. She didn’t have room for that in her life.
Emeline stripped and jumped in the shower. Afterward, she drew on a worn pair of yoga pants and her favorite slouchy sweatshirt. She shook out her damp curls and looked like a mop, but other than a perm, her hair refused to be tamed. There were days when she loved it. Today wasn’t one of them. The glare from the bathroom light showed the beginning of a bruise on her jaw. Even with her healing abilities, by tomorrow she’d have an ugly rainbow on her cheek.
Her stomach grumbled. Time for dinner/breakfast, all depending on how you looked at it. She left her bedroom and tip-toed down the stairs, listening. Where was the bastard?
The fifth step squeaked.
Motherf—uggh!
Emeline sighed and nonchalantly sauntered the rest of the way. She peeked into the living room as she passed. No Avery there, but a fire crackled in the fireplace. Kitchen maybe? She backtracked down the hallway only to find the room also empty.
The front door opened and closed. Footsteps thudded into the living room. Emeline refused to address the relief flooding her. She took out two frozen, ready-to-eat meals and popped them in the microwave. While they heated, she retrieved two bottles of water, silverware, napkins, and a serving tray to carry everything.
Nerves had her foot twitching and her throat dry. Which was stupid because he was just a man. An interesting man. A freaking, smoking hot man.
Keep it professional, Emeline. You need a man like—right now. A chuckle escaped her. Scratch that! He’s an employee. Not a candidate to trade bodily fluid with. Besides, that’s exactly what Ridley wanted her to do, which made it out of the realm of possibilities no matter how many votes her libido put in the yes pile.
The microwave beeped. Emeline removed the steaming bags, poured the contents onto two plates, and lugged everything into the living room. The fire cast a soft glow over the room and shimmered in the beveled mirror hanging on the wall over the sofa.
He had stripped off his coat and placed it next to hers, leaving him in a fitted sweater, sculpted to his body and black jeans and that made it impossible to look away from his ass. She ogled. Couldn’t help it and wouldn’t apologize, not when God had made such a fine male specimen.
If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge her presence. He’d pushed the coffee table to the side and commandeered the area before the fireplace for his arsenal. Weapons of every kind gleamed from an unrolled mat. She spotted several different types of knives, throwing stars, three guns—not including the two in holsters under his arms—lots of ammo and other stuff which she hadn’t a clue about. She walked around the sofa and placed the tray on the coffee table.
Did he glance at her? She’d swear she glimpsed his green eyes.
“You didn’t have to do that.” He continued fiddling with his stuff.
“What?” She opened the bottle, ready to pass the water to him.
He turned, finally giving her his full attention from his crouched position. Flames danced across his skin, turning him into a molten god. “Serve me. You’re not working and I’m not a customer,” he said with a scowl.
His words slapped her. “You asshole. I would feed anyone who came to my home. It’s called common courtesy. Having manners, of which you have none.” She took of a swig of water.
<
br /> Avery rose and didn’t stop until he towered over her. Emeline refused to step back and returned his glare with one of her own. Flames reflected in the green of his eyes, making them glow. She took another swig, hoping to keep her mouth occupied so nothing else would fall out.
He took the water bottle, wrapped his cruel lips around the opening that was recently in her mouth and guzzled. His gaze never left her face.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said after swallowing.
His voice washed over her. Buoyed her in a sultry heat. “You are welcome. Would you care for some food?” Each word had their moment.
“Yes. I would.” He responded in kind.
A smile teased the corner of his lips and she wondered what she’d have to do to get a full wattage grin from him. She sank to the carpet and patted the spot next to her. He joined her and she handed him a plate.
“You didn’t have to do this.” He studied the homestyle beef stew.
“I didn’t. It came from a bag.” She handed him a fork. “It’s getting cold.” For a while, they ate in silence, the fire the only sound. “Why did you agree to protect me?”
“…Something to do.”
Great. He was bored. “How much is Zachary paying you?”
He looked at her. She wanted to squirm under his intense stare.
“Not enough.”
“Cheap bastard. I’ll get him to pay you more.” Some strategic wheedling will get him to do what she wanted. She shoveled some food into her mouth.
“How will you get him to pay me more?” he said softly.
She shrugged and stared at the flames. “We have a history and I have my ways.”
Silence.
From beneath her lashes, she peered at him and drew back from the scowl on his face. “W-what?”
Avery stood quickly and placed his unfinished plate back on the coffee table. He gathered up a handful of flat, white disks and moved to each window. “These are motion sensors. They give off a loud screech when breached. The average criminal will run away.”
“And if they're not average?”
“Then you know the direction of your enemy.” He walked into the kitchen and did the same with the window over the sink. His long legs took the stairs two at a time and she had to jog to keep up. He hid a sensor at the top of the stairs between the spokes in the railing. He placed his last two in her bedroom. Afterward, she followed him back downstairs.
“Your boyfriend, tell me about him.” He said when they were back in the living room.
“My ex.”
“Is he your ex because you sent him to jail?”
“Boy, you’ve done your homework. Did you get all of that from Google on your way here?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts.
Silence. He watched and waited. Damn, he did that good. She didn’t want to tell this story, but didn’t see a way out of this. “The relationship was over before he was arrested. He was a mid-level dealer, but he got caught on credit card fraud and stolen merchandise. Not because he needed the money. He craved the adventure.”
“And you went along with?” His voice had deepened to an angry edge.
He judged her? After everything she knew he’d done as a mercenary, he had the gall to judge her. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. Being with Lincoln was not my smartest or finest moment. And I ended it right after I found out. The DA offered me a deal and I took it. When the trial begins, I will testify against him. I don’t know what he did to get bail, but my conscience is clear.” She stacked the dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen. He didn’t follow.
I’m not apologizing for my past, least not to him. She washed, dried, and put them away. When she turned, Avery was there, leaning against the door frame. His expression unreadable. How long had he watched her?
“Now he wants revenge?”
Possibly. “I know Lincoln. I’m surprised that after six months he’s coming for me now. He probably has an out he hasn’t revealed yet. Lincoln threatens but doesn’t actually do anything. The more I think on it, the more I believe this is all bluster.”
“Then why did you attack him?”
Because I turned around and he was there! In my face, glaring with that smugness I hate. This wasn’t going to work. Bodyguards were there to take a bullet for you, not interrogate you.
“What happened the night of the break-in?” He continued to push.
“Couldn’t Google that answer?” she said. His chest heaved and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t move from his spot. She walked around him and stomped upstairs. Less than an hour in her home and she wanted him gone.
She grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from her closet and placed them in the bedroom at the end of the hallway. She found Avery peering out of the living room window when she returned downstairs.
“You can use the last bedroom on the right side of the hallway.”
“I’ll be staying here.” He didn’t turn around.
A statue had more bend than the wall of muscle she faced. Emeline stood next to him. Together they studied the few cars trudging by. A blast of cold rattled the window panes, seeped through, and chilled her while heat radiating from Avery warmed her side. She stopped herself from moving closer. It was silly to ask him questions when she already knew the answer but—
“How did you get involved in this line of work?”
His head angled toward her and his gaze narrowed. A smirk curled his lips. “Was that a pick-up line?”
“W-whoa, no! It was a question.” Though it did sound like a pick-up line. A lame one at that.
His gaze turned back to the street. “Let me guess. You don’t watch the news and haven’t heard of the Nicolis family.”
Truth or dare. “I’ve heard of your family, but I asked about you.”
He moved away from the window and went back to his weapons. Was it a tactic to stall?
“It’s the family business. And I’m good at it.”
From the records documenting his time overseas, he was damn good at it. Trained in hand to hand combat and a variety of weapons. Twice she had lost him while tracking him through the streets of Manhattan. She’d never seen his prowess first hand, though had always hoped to. Everyone wanted to see a tiger in action, just once, to have the memory of the experience as you lounge in the safety of your home.
He returned to his weapons and picked up a short blade. His long fingers touched the steel, stroked it. How would that feel if he touched her like that? Slowly. Reverently. The muscles in her lower abdomen tightened. Her limbs turned liquid. She sucked in an annoyed breath and left.
“Goodnight, Miss Gamble.” His rough voice drifted after her as she walked up the stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
This wasn’t how Avery planned to spend his night, on a lumpy sofa guarding the one person he shouldn’t be near. He could kick himself for not letting EJ protect her. But his horny brother would make a play for Emeline, and Avery didn’t want to have to kill him.
He balled his hands and pressed them against his closed eyes. Unrealistic dreams lead nowhere. That’s why he’d stopped following her. Following was a gentler word than stalking, which made him seem like a sociopath. He’d kept telling himself he wasn’t, though he had to admit he did have some tendencies.
God, things hadn’t started out that way, but yeah, he’d stalked her, delved into her background for details on her life. He’d seen her at a park in the West Village during the summer. An orange sundress fluttered about her legs like a flag, billowing every few seconds so every man within a two hundred foot radius glimpsed an exquisite pair of brown sugar thighs. He’d stopped and stared at her wide, almond-shaped eyes, her heart-shaped face surrounded by a dark mop of wild curly hair. All of her captured a man’s attention. And their lust. He’d almost gone to her. He would’ve asked for her name, taken her to dinner, taken her home, and…taken her sweetness.
She wasn’t the type of woman a man did a drive-by on. She was the type a man got addicted
to. Impossible in his line of work. So, he’d walked away. A job in the Middle East kept him occupied for three weeks.
When he returned, EJ had dragged him to RedZone. She was there, in the skimpiest umpire uniform ever made. Black, boy shorts and striped, black and white, cropped top hugged a sinful body. His skin shrink-wrapped. Sweat trickled down the center of his back like a coward. He’d wanted to turn tail, yet he forced himself to find a chair and watch her all night.
Watched, wanted, and ached. Watched her flirt with men. Wanted to kill each one of them for stealing bits of her attention that should be his alone. Ached to lick every curve and hollow, take her until the only man she allowed within ten feet of her was named Avery.
Eventually, her gaze found his. Her eyes widened and for a moment, he imagined a spark of desire. Then she turned and walked away. Rejection never tasted so bitter. And was never so necessary.
Hell! What the fuck was he doing here? There was no rational explanation for him being in her home, other than some masochistic wish to torture himself, and his presence placed her in danger.
Before he changed his mind, he had his phone out, his finger pressing seven digits. No ringing, no chance to change his mind. The connection went straight to voicemail.
“I have a client that needs protection. ASAP.” He didn’t leave his name.
He closed the phone and scrubbed a hand over his bald head. A wedge of cold fury settled in his chest. He should be happy. He’d kept his word. McIntosh would take over her care. He would be with her for her birthday in a few days.
The coldness spread through his body to every nerve ending. The muscles across his back seized and that crawling sensation returned like the march of red ants swarming an unlucky grasshopper, chomping away.
Avery yanked off his shirt. In the mirror hanging over the sofa, he studied his body. Three months after the burn, a small black dot appeared on his back. Over time, the stain grew and changed, like a Rorschach painting with a will of its own.
Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3) Page 11
