Slashes in the Snow: A Baum Squad novel

by Never , M.

  “It’s solid steel.” She works quickly to cover up her half-naked body.

  “You don’t have to on my account.” I stare down at her like the starving wolf I am.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Ky? How did you even get in?” Kira stands, clutching the cream-colored towel to her chest.

  “Door was open.” I thumb behind me.

  “What door?”

  “Um, the front door.”

  “No.” Kira shakes her head feverishly. “That’s impossible.” She pushes past me like a cute little raging bull. “I locked the door,” she insists as I follow her down the hallway. “I put on the alarm.” She continues down the stairs in a flurry to the entryway. “I’m not crazy.” She punches a few buttons furiously on the keypad.

  “You sort of sound a little crazy,” I feel compelled to comment.

  “I swear I’m not.” Her voice is small, and scared, and distant. She doesn’t turn around to face me. She just stands in front of the alarm pad with her arms wrapped around herself. “What are you doing here, Ky? You made it very clear earlier today you want nothing to do with me or this family.”

  Kira sounds a little more assertive now. Maybe she’s not as fragile as she looks.

  “I might have reconsidered.” I clear my throat. I can’t say I love the idea of being here, but Kira has piqued my interest. And if it means there’s the slightest chance I can dive between those sexy thighs, I’ll hang around a bit.

  Kira finally turns to look at me. And god, she is so fucking beautiful. So natural, so pure. So tempting.

  “Please don’t waste my fucking time, Ky.” She tries to brush past me, but I stop her, clutching her arms in a stronghold.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t waste time. Not mine or yours or anyone else’s. You came to me for help. I’m here to listen.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?” She’s skeptical.

  I guess I would be too after the way I kicked her to the curb earlier.

  “You’re hot.”

  Her face contorts with an exasperated expression. What? It’s the truth. I never proclaimed to be noble. I’m here for purely selfish reasons.

  “I really don’t have the time or patience or sanity for this. You can see yourself out.” She tries to wriggle out of my grasp. Like hell.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I stand my ground.

  Kira glowers up at me unbelievably annoyed. “If you’re just here to jerk off like a peeping fucking Tom, go outside and get it over with. I’ll pretend I don’t know you’re there.”

  I stop my jaw from dropping. Well, hello, Ms. Smart Mouth. You may look as pure as fucking snow, but there is definitely some punch under that pretty exterior.

  I lean in close, deliberately encroaching on her personal space. “Snow,” I murmur, “if I’m going to come, the only place it’s going to be is inside you.” It’s definitely a promise.

  A heavy silence falls upon us as Kira’s big brown eyes sharpen.

  Scary. Not. She’s more like an adorable little kitten showing her claws. Think she’d slap me if I pet her? Probably, but it’d be so worth it if I did.

  “Get out, Ky,” she fumes.

  “Not a chance,” I refuse. “I’m your problem now.”

  “That’s a perfect way to describe yourself.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” I shrug.

  “I can imagine,” she sneers.

  This back-and-forth game is fun, especially seeing how easy it is to get under her skin. Effect ya, do I, Snow?

  “Seriously, Ky.” She yanks herself out of my hold. “If you’re not here to help me, just leave.” Her voice is crackly now. “You can slither out the same way you slithered in.” She turns and heads for the stairs, but I snatch her arm.

  “I don’t slither,” I clarify. “And I’m not leaving.”

  Kira inhales a deep breath and shivers slightly under my hold.

  The way her head is hung, her damp hair covers half her face. And I hate it. I want to see her. All of her. All the sharp slants of her cheekbones, and the plump pinkness of her lips. I want her to see me and see no one else.

  “I don’t have anyone else to turn to, and I’m scared,” she repeats what she told me earlier, defeat echoing in her tone. “If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine, just don’t make things worse.”

  I take her chin and force her to look at me. Her dark-amber eyes are glassy with tears.

  Shit, Snow, you’re killin’ me.

  “It’s a bad habit I have, makin’ things worse.”

  “Gerard doesn’t think so.”

  “What the hell does he know?” I bark right in her face. His opinion means jackshit, and if he were standing here right now, I’d spit on him.

  I suck in a collective breath. My father is a sensitive subject. As sensitive as igniter fluid near a chemical fire. He’s the last thing I want to think or worry about. It’s Kira who needs my full attention. “Let’s talk, Snow.” I tug on her arm. Once I concentrate on it, I realize just how delicate and soft her skin is beneath my fingertips.

  Kira is hesitant to move, or speak, or even breathe apparently. My little outburst must have spooked her.

  “Don’t be scared. You came to me for help, so let’s see if I can help you.”

  I can tell she’s calculating her decision. She doesn’t trust me. Not one bit. Maybe that’s a good thing, for the both of us.

  It will force her to keep her distance, and remind me to keep mine.

  For now.

  “I don’t know who I can trust. I’m starting to even doubt myself.”

  I’m torn in so many directions when I look at this woman. My attraction to her is wild. My resentment toward her fierce, and my curiosity is slowly raking me over hot coals because I want to know more. I want to know more about her, about her life with my estranged father, and why she thinks someone is following her. A smart man would just walk away and never look back. Actually, a smart man would seduce the fuck out of the vulnerable woman standing half-naked in front of him, get his rocks off, and then ghost.

  Consequences be damned.

  But I’m too glutton for punishment to do that. I’m also afraid if I have her once, I’ll want her again. And again, and again.

  “Let’s talk.” I remove my hands from her, giving her all the space she needs. All the space both of us need.

  “I should put on some clothes.” She tightens the towel around her.

  “I’m cool with what you’re wearing.”

  Kira shakes her head. “Sit at the kitchen table. I’ll be right back.”

  “Is that that long glass thing that looks like it seats twenty?”

  “That would be the one.” She nods, heading out of the room.

  I meander through the first floor. It’s one big, white, palatial floorplan, and I take a seat right at the head of the table. I slink down into the colorless, modern chair that is surprisingly more comfortable than it looks. I gaze down the length of the table, and anger sneaks up on me. How many times has he sat here? How many breakfasts and dinners has he shared with his new, shiny family? Or with high-profile, LA snobs he used to talk all kinds of shit about?

  I clench my fists over and over until the blood turns my knuckles red. I hate this place. I fucking hate him.

  “Drink?” Kira suddenly shoves a beer bottle in my face.

  “Yes.” I grab it straight away, pop the top, and take a swig before she even has a chance to sit. I read the label as the familiar tang passes over my taste buds. I guess some things don’t change. Same piss, different establishment.

  Kira takes a sip of her beer meekly. No, not meekly, politely. I have to recognize the difference. The women I’m used to don’t have such . . . etiquette.

  “I didn’t take you for a Miller girl.” I chug down the beer, attempting to extinguish the rage burning like fire at the back of my throat.

  “I have one every once in a while. I started drinking them on poker night.” Kira lifts
one knee to her chest, and that’s when I take notice of her outfit. Ultra-short shorts and belly shirt to match. Why did she even bother to change out of the towel? It covered more.

  “Poker night?” I repeat, distracted as I steal a glance at her run-on thighs. She’s definitely not wearing underwear. Nope, definitely not.

  “Yeah, Gerard started it.” She smiles as she takes another sip of beer. “Him, my mom, and me. We were so terrible at first.” She laughs. “But Gerard is a good teacher.”

  “That he fucking is.” I pour the amber liquid straight down my throat, resisting the urge to put my fist right through the fucking glass table. I remember all the poker nights we used to have. He started teaching me at the ripe old age of two. It was our thing, always. Even into adulthood. He had the whole club playing, and it was always us hustling everyone else. You can do that when you’re the Prez. The money never mattered all that much. It usually went back into the pot for the next game. It was us against everyone else that mattered. That made it fun. That bonded us.

  Even when I was deployed and crawling around the shittiest parts of the world, it was my dad who instilled the heart I needed to carry on. To find my bravery. My upbringing made me strong. Made me resilient. Made me clever. My upbringing is what kept me alive, and still keeps me alive. And whom do I owe that upbringing to? The man I despise. It tears me apart day by fucking day. Eats away at my soul. Even as I try to ignore it. Secrets, lies, and betrayal don’t sit well with me. Those three things are dangerous, and for a man in my position, they mean a trifecta of deception. Possibly even death.

  Honor is all I have. What I can survive on. And when the person you trust most, idolize even, betrays you, it’s hard to come back from. Hard to forgive. Hard to move past. And staring at Kira, sitting in this house, I am constantly reminded of that betrayal. Hatred sneaks up on me around every corner. Considering it now, I don’t know if I can do this. Do anything she asks. I’ll become a buried landmine just waiting to explode.

  Kira peels at the bottle’s label quietly, and the soft sound brings me back to her. Our eyes meet, hers dark and soulful, mine raw and callous.

  “You wanted to talk,” she opens up a line of communication.

  “That I did.” I lean forward and prepare to deliver the unfortunate news.

  “You being here makes me feel safe.” Kira drops a bomb out of nowhere. I bite back my bad news. “Despite the fact that you don’t like me. And you were being a creeper earlier.”

  “Who says I don’t like you? And I wasn’t creeping.” I defend myself, even though I’m completely in the wrong. I was totally creeping.

  She shoots me a cynical look. She’s no dummy. She knows exactly what’s up.

  “I won’t deny I’m not a fan of the people who live in this house.” I’m honest, if nothing else.

  “I live in this house,” she points out.

  “Yeah, but you’re hot, so I can overlook it.”

  “That’s the only reason you're here? Because I’m hot?”

  “Do I need a better reason?”

  “I guess not,” she sighs.

  “Who do you think is following you?”

  “Stalking me.” She corrects.

  “Okay, who do you think is stalking you?”

  “I have no idea. I just know someone is. I can feel it.”

  “Feel it?” I’m skeptical. “You want me to go off a feeling?”

  Kira nods.

  “And what do you propose I do?”

  Kira shrugs demurely. She has abandoned words apparently.

  “Stay here with me?” she finally offers.

  “What, like a bodyguard?”

  She nods again quickly. The idea even seems a little off-color to her.

  “Snow,” I grunt. “I have a club to run. I can’t just up—”

  “It will only be for a month,” she interrupts my pathetic attempt at an excuse. “Then I leave. School will be over, and I’ll be on a plane to Paris to meet my mom and Gerard.” Leave? A plane to Paris? Why does that aggravate me like an annoying itch? “Then you’ll never have to think about me again.” Kira drops her head. She’s so sweet. So fragile sometimes. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

  Fucking hell. I’m soft for this woman when I sure as shit shouldn’t be.

  “One month?” I test the timeframe on my tongue.

  “One month, then I’m gone,” Kira promises.

  I deliberate, trying not to imagine the taste of anything else on my tongue. But Kira is just too damn tempting. If there is even the slightest chance I can slip between those sweet thighs of hers, it’s worth the thirty days of agony being in this house. It’ll be like an episode of Big Brother. Expect the unexpected, and try like hell to sleep with your housemate. Or, step-sister in this seriously messed-up case.

  The head in my pants is clearly spearheading the decision here.

  “So, I’m like suction-cupped to your ass for a whole month?” Not that it would be completely terrible or anything.

  “Maybe not suction-cupped, but you could take me to class and possibly sleep here at night?” She bites her fingernail.

  “Sleepovers?” I’m intrigued.

  “There are several spare rooms. You can have your pick,” she’s quick to clarify.

  “What if I want to stay in your room?” I lean forward suggestively, resting my forearms on the table.

  “The floor is hard, but I’ll give you a pillow and blanket.”

  I laugh. At least the girl’s got jokes. “This place is like Fort Knox. You really need me to stay here?”

  “Yes. Nighttime is the worst. I haven’t slept in days, and you’ve experienced first-hand how reliable the alarm system is. I had a tech out here two weeks ago, and nothing has gotten better. If anything, it malfunctions even worse. The whole house is wired, so if one thing isn’t working right, nothing works right. And I swear, someone is lurking around outside. Sometimes I think they even get in the house.” She shivers, clearly spooked. “I find little things out of place, like a shirt I swear I put away, or the smell of my perfume lingering in my room when I know I didn’t spray any.”

  “A faulty alarm, and Casper the Friendly Ghost. I think I can handle it.”

  “It’s not a joke, Ky. There is someone out there watching me,” Kira is convinced.

  “And now I’m here watching you. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll fuck off right now. Do you have any idea who it may be? An ex-boyfriend? An ex-coworker? Someone at school, maybe?”

  “I can’t think of anyone, except . . . my dad.”

  “Your dad? Explain.”

  “He’s just been an asshole my whole life. He loves to play mind games and fuck around. I haven't spoken to him in three years. Not after Gerard kicked him out of the house on my twenty-first birthday. He’s a total control freak, and he lost complete control over me that day. I don’t know, maybe he knows my mom and Gerard are out of town and is using this as an opportunity for something twisted?”

  “That is quite a conspiracy theory.” I crack my knuckles.

  “You don’t believe me.” She’s offended.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your tone implies otherwise.”

  “I’m just taking it all in so I can devise a plan of action.”

  “I thought we had a plan of action?”

  “No, we have a jumping-off point, but I believe it’s better to be proactive than careless. If there is someone out there, I want to get my hands on them before they get their hands on you.”

  The thought of someone else’s hands on Kira has me suddenly enraged. What. The. Fuck?

  “Can I have another?” I hold up the empty beer bottle. I need to cool my fucking jets.

  “Sure, they’re in the fridge.” Kira doesn’t move a muscle.

  “I guess I’m not a house guest anymore.” I push myself up to stand.

  “I’m just not anyone’s waitress.”

  I peer down at her before resting my hands on the glas
s tabletop. Bringing my face obnoxiously close to hers, I whisper, “Snow, by the end of this month, you will be waiting on me, buck naked. And you’ll love every second of it.”

  “A man can dream,” she hisses back.

  “The best dreams happen when you’re awake,” I slingshot back like the cocky fucker I am.

  “I need to sleep,” she ignores my response masterfully. “I have an early study group in the morning. There’s plenty of beer in the fridge and your choice of spare bedrooms upstairs.” Kira sneaks off her chair in a ninja-like move. Impressive. “Don’t get too drunk; I’ll need a ride.”

  “Study groups were not part of the deal,” I argue.

  “They were classified under schooling.”

  “Oh, is that right?” I scoff.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She struts off, and I shut the fuck up, drooling over her sweet, tight, heart-shaped ass.

  Soon, I’m alone and thirsty for more than just beer.

  Left with little to do besides twiddle my fucking thumbs, I open the fridge and grab another. I stare at the contents inside. Everything neatly placed, organized, and utterly irritating. Perfect, perfect, perfect, I gripe to myself as I push around bottles and plastic containers and condiments until the inside of the fridge is in complete disarray. I smile. Perfection. One hot mess. I slam the door closed, pop open the beer bottle, and strut to the enormous, white, U-shaped, fancy-schmancy couch in the living quarters. You can’t even call it a room.

  Propping my feet up, boots and all, onto the white coffee table, I turn on the TV, get comfortable, and prepare to catch up on Sports Center. That’s when I see it, a picture frame on the glossy-white piece of furniture under the television with three smiling faces. The new, happy family.

  It disgusts me. It’s almost hard to believe the man in that picture is the same man who raised me. He looks mostly the same, except his salt-and-pepper beard is kept a little neater and his dark hair is trimmed with a bit more style. And the expression on his face, it’s so content he’s even showing teeth. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my father smile in such a way.

  A rapid boil of emotions bubbles beneath my skin. I chug the beer, unable to stop glaring at the picture.

  I think I’m totally fucked. No, I know I’m totally fucked. I have no idea how I’m going to survive a month without smashing half this house to pieces.