Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4

by Asher, Brynne

  “There’s nothing to remember. I felt woozy on the plane. Once we landed, I felt like I was going to be sick or pass out or both. I got to the bathroom as fast as I could. Besides my waking up and this happening to me, there’s nothing else to tell.”

  I lean my head back and look out to the dark sky sitting heavy over the city. “You might not think certain details are important, but if you tell me everything you remember, we might be able to track it to someone.”

  She shakes her head against my chest. “No.”

  I give up for the time being. “You hungry?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m good.”

  “Tired?”

  Finally, I get a positive answer on something. “Yes. And I think I need some water and those Advil.”

  I don’t waste another moment. I stand with her in my arms, walk back into the penthouse, and straight to the bedroom.

  “Bathroom,” she mutters into my neck.

  I can’t help but smile. I take her straight to the bathroom and press my lips to the top of her head. “I’ll get you water.”

  Five minutes later, the penthouse is locked up. She’s rolled into me and we’re settled, in the middle of the massive bed.

  “My head is spinning,” she says.

  “That’s what happens when you’re a small human and drink an entire bottle of wine without any food in your stomach.”

  She says nothing and I think she’s settling in, her back pressed into my front, her ass settled into my groin like it was made for my cock. I shut my eyes and rest my hand on her hip, releasing some of the tension I’ve been holding in since I got the phone call two days ago.

  “Noah?”

  I give her a squeeze. “Yeah, baby.”

  “Thank you.”

  Pressing my face into the back of her head, I breathe her in. “I’m not waking you up every hour. Sleep all night—or all day.”

  She sighs. “Good.”

  Chapter 18

  Cocoon

  Gracie

  “Your turn.”

  We’re still in our Parisian bubble where time stands still and every single thing we might need is delivered to the door. But because of my headache, Noah has made sure we’ve avoided the light of day. I think we’ve been camped here together for over two days. We spend our nights on the veranda, in the fresh air and where the noises of the city are muted by the time they reach us. And our days are spent in bed—either talking or sleeping or doing something else menial that doesn’t require thought or concentration.

  My headache went from a tropical storm to a category five after my bottle of wine. But my brain being jostled inside my skull is the real culprit because it’s still nagging, hanging around a category one or two. Light, loud noises, looking at my phone or watching TV make it worse.

  “Give me all your queens, Gracie.”

  I look up at where Noah is leaning against the headboard. He’s in a clean T-shirt and another pair of gym shorts but that’s it. His long, strong legs are stretched out and his bare feet are crossed at the ankle near my head where I’m lying on the bed next to him, but flip-flopped so he can’t see my cards. His dark hair is still damp and pushed into a mess of waves, even longer than it was when I met him.

  We just got out of the shower and he didn’t even ask me if I needed help. He just followed me in, helped me out of my clothes, and stripped down to his underwear again. The leaving his underwear on while I’m buck naked is sweet. Since I still feel like shit, and it only slightly hurts to bat my eye, I didn’t invite him to drop his drawers. I just closed my eyes and let him wash my hair without a word since it felt good.

  But after I stepped out and grabbed a towel, I saw him flip the water to cold as he stood under the stream, not moving a muscle, turning his taut back to me. Guilt and excitement filled me, in equal amounts, but my nagging headache is dictating the mood and everything else at the moment.

  It’s hard enough being around the perfection that is Noah Jarvis when I look like I was used as a punching bag. So, there’s that, too.

  I pull out the two queens in my handful of cards, but before I hand them over, I ask, “Cats or dogs?”

  “Dogs.” His answer comes quick, just like the rest of them have during our weird game of Twenty Questions and Go Fish, since anything that requires more thought or concentration nags at my head like a bitch. So far, I found out Noah is an only child, he prefers mountains to beaches, and his major in college was aeronautical engineering. The thought of that alone made my head throb. “Hand them over.”

  “Were you a pilot in the Navy?”

  He runs a hand up my bare calf and shakes his head. “It’s your turn to ask for cards, not a question.”

  “But this isn’t part of the game. I’m just curious.”

  “You’re breaking your own rules?”

  I motion to my face. “Pretty sure I can do whatever I want until I don’t look like this.”

  He shakes his head but he’s smirking. “I have my license but I went into the BUDS program. I am—or was—a SEAL.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “I have no idea. Why aren’t you?”

  “Because Grady was a Ranger. Crew was a sharp shooter for the Secret Service. And Asa,” I pause because I really have no clue. “Well, whatever. He’s Asa. Did you always want to be a SEAL?”

  “No. I did it because I knew it would piss off my dad. He wanted me moving up the chain like he did. SEALs are elite and you’re working with a smaller group of men. It wasn’t what he had planned for me but at the same time, it was all me.”

  “Do you have any threes?”

  “Go fish. What size shoe do you wear?”

  I pick a card from the stack. “That’s an odd question.”

  “Don’t judge my questions. You’ll need shoes eventually and I didn’t know what size to buy you.”

  I try to look put out but it’s hard because it’s sort of funny. “What does that say about you that you got my panty size perfect, but you have no clue about my feet?”

  He slides his hand down my leg and wraps his fingers around my foot. “It means I love your ass and need to spend more time with your feet.” I pull my bottom lip in to try to keep from smiling and also because he pulls my feet into his lap and starts inspecting them. “Small.”

  “They’re not that small.” I sort of laugh and touch my lip that isn’t healing fast enough. “And small isn’t a size.”

  “Then what size?”

  “Seven. Unless it’s tennis shoes, then I go up half a size. And sometimes in boots. It depends on the socks. And the brand, really.”

  He hikes a brow. “I’ll let you order your own shoes.” He looks at his cards. “Give me all your tens.”

  “Shit. I have three of them,” I complain. “Can you see my cards?”

  “No. Now, tell me why you’re avoiding a conversation with your brother.”

  I’m pretty sure my face falls and I try to pull my legs away from him, but his grip on my feet tighten, holding them to the proverbial fire. “Give me my feet.”

  “No. Answer the question. Your game, your rules—all questions are fair territory. Why won’t you talk to Grady?”

  I lay my cards down on the bed next to me where I’m lying on my side looking up to him. “He’s going to ask me questions and I’ve already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He tosses his cards to the bed next to mine and isn’t gentle when he presses his thumbs into my arches, pressing upward in a way I’m pretty sure I can feel it in my lower back. Without taking his eyes off mine, he keeps at my feet but doesn’t say a word.

  “What?” I ask, my voice laced with determination and just a bit of teen petulance.

  He shrugs and keeps rubbing.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  This time he looks at my feet, studying them as if he’ll be tested later. I really wish I could order in a pedicure—I’m well overdue.

  “We’ve got nothing bu
t time, baby.” His dark browns cut to mine before glancing around the darkened room, only lit by the daylight peeking at us between drawn curtains. “Until you feel well enough to travel or at least go out for a meal, I’ve got you held hostage. I’m patient, but your brother? Not so much and I’m running out of excuses. If you want me to come right out and tell him you’re avoiding him, he’ll be on the next flight out of DC. I don’t want him here because I’m selfish and I want you to myself.”

  I close my eyes and hug my pillow to me tighter. I don’t want Grady here and I don’t want Noah to leave. I also don’t want to think about why that is.

  He gives my feet a tug and I open my eyes. “Eventually, you’re going to have to talk to someone. I’ve seen the surveillance video of the man walking you out of the airport but I couldn’t see his face. We need to know what you remember about him or anyone else you might’ve seen even though I killed everyone in that building.”

  I shake my head. “Not everyone.”

  He stills and I don’t like the direction my game of Twenty Questions has taken. His grip on my foot tightens and his tone turns sharp. “What do you mean, not everyone?”

  “I mean, I can’t know for sure, but the asshole who did this,” I motion to myself, “was called away. He left before you found me but he said he’d be back.” I shake my head and take a breath. “And he made sure I knew what was going to happen when he did.”

  “You mean I didn’t kill him? The one who did this to you?” he growls.

  “I don’t know for sure but my guess would be no.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses and drops my feet to drag his hands down his face. I thought his glare was intense before but it’s nothing compared to now. He leans up from the headboard and reaches for my hand. The lines of his square jaw go taut and are so sharp they could cut like a razor. His next words are strained and penetrate through every layer of my heart. “I’ve tried my hardest to let you be—to give you time. But I’ve got to know. When the doctor asked if you were,” he pauses, searching for the word, one that looks like it gives him actual pain to say, “violated, besides what’s obvious, you said no.”

  “That’s what I said,” I confirm.

  “But is it the truth? Be honest with me, Gracie. I need to know.”

  I squeeze his hand and pull myself up. My ribs must just be bruised because I’m moving a little better already and there’s no way I’d be able to if they were cracked. His dark eyes search mine as I make my way up to him. His hands come to my hips to steady me and I put my hand over his heart as I swing a leg over his, straddling his hips. I’m sitting in his lap when I bring my hands up to his jaw and lean in, pressing my lips to his.

  He doesn’t kiss me back. His body is stone-cold frozen, tension spilling from every pore. When I sit back on his thighs, I whisper the truth, “He didn’t rape me, Noah. He was going to. He told me what he planned on doing to me. In detail.”

  His hands on my hips tighten just enough where he doesn’t hurt or bruise me further. But he does look like his head might explode from an aneurysm. His blood is pumping too fast and too furious through his body. I feel his rage radiating from him.

  This is the exact reason why I don’t want to tell him he’s the reason I was targeted to begin with. I know I need to. I know there will be a time I have to. But right now, here in our bubble where we’re hidden away in a beautiful apartment in a beautiful city, I don’t want that. It’s been ugly enough and he saved me.

  Right now, I can tell him how close of a call it was, let him know he’s the reason I’m not a rape victim without letting him know he was the reason I was taken to begin with. That can come later.

  “He left and you found me. He didn’t do anything more or worse than what’s been done to me before.”

  I lose his eyes when his lids fall and I feel the anxiety disintegrate from his body, muscle by muscle. I know I’ll have to deal with the consequences later, but I’m tired of fighting the thought of Noah Jarvis. He’s not only making the idea of him not being a part of my life difficult, but downright impossible.

  Sliding his hands up my back, he pulls me into him and I don’t fight it. When his lips find mine, they’re soft and tender on my busted lip. His movements are slow and lazy, his tongue swiping mine in a way that would heal me if he could. So much has happened—the last time he kissed me feels like another time, another life.

  He leans back on a pillow and takes me with him. Resting the side of my face with my good eye on his shoulder, his hand snakes up into my hair as he wraps his other arm around me.

  We stay like this, in our cocoon, one that Noah has spun just for us. It’s growing and building and becoming something that looks completely different than it did on our first night together. I don’t know if it will last or, if it does, what it will look like when it’s finally time to re-enter the real world. I don’t want to think about it—I’m afraid to. There are things about me he needs to know, things I’ve let control my life … and not in a good way.

  Noah breaks into my thoughts. “You don’t know how much that’s been fucking with me, Gracie. It’s been gnawing at my insides until I’ve become raw. Don’t hold anything back from me.”

  My guilt pokes at me but I slap it away. “You should’ve asked.”

  He lets out a huff and I feel him shake his head. “You make it sound easy. You’re not the easiest person to extract information from, even if your favorite game is Twenty Questions.”

  He’s right but there’s no way I’m going to admit it. “I’ll text Grady. I don’t want him to worry but I don’t want anything to break into this. I’ll have to face the real world eventually, including him and my sisters.”

  He presses his lips to my messy hair. “You’ve got it, baby.”

  “Thank you.” I sigh. “I’m tired. How can I be so tired when all we do is lie around?”

  He scoots down in the bed with me on top of him, stretching us out and, with ease, rolls me off him so I’m tucked to his side. “Because your body is healing. You need rest.”

  I yawn and close my eyes, kicking my leg out of the loose dress I put on after our last shower. “I’ve been wondering something.”

  “I’ve never answered so many questions for anyone in my entire life. You’re lucky I’m into you.”

  That makes me smile, but I still want to know. “How do you know how to start an IV?”

  “I was a SEAL and then Crew made sure we’re prepared for anything.”

  I run the tips of my fingers under the hem of his T-shirt and trace the lines of his abs. “So, skin glue and an IV. You’re practically a medic.”

  His hand covers mine and he threads our fingers. “I thought you were tired?”

  “I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your abs.”

  His chest moves against me and now that he knows nothing was done to me besides the obvious, he’s almost back to his direct, no-holds-barred self. “Just because I’m not walking on pins and needles around you thinking you’re keeping something huge from me doesn’t mean you’re fair game. You barely move a muscle without something hurting. I’m not touching you until you’re better. It’s hard enough showering with you.”

  I smile. “I noticed.”

  “Not to brag, but it would be hard to miss.”

  I bring my hand up to my lip that stings every time I smile too big. “Stop making me laugh. It hurts.”

  He pulls back a bit to look down at me and he’s as serious as his expression. “I’m not being funny and you laughing at that is offensive.”

  I run my tongue over my lip where it’s split. “I know. I’m the one who’s not only well acquainted with it, but I’ve also had it in my mouth. It was not a forgettable experience.”

  “Of course it wasn’t,” he agrees too quickly before shaking his head and closing his eyes. “You’ve got to quit talking about my cock in your sweet mouth. We’re trying to go to sleep. Not to mention, you’ve got a busted lip and can’t do anything with your mouth
for a while.”

  I slip my hand under his shirt again and leave it there, his body warming mine in all kinds of ways. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “Go to sleep, Grace.”

  I slide my hand up. “Okay, Jarvis.”

  He says nothing but he does exhale heavy enough, a bit of a groan slips out.

  “Do they have pizza in France?” I ask.

  “I’ll find you some pizza tonight when we wake up. Or tomorrow. Hell, we’ve turned into vampires—I barely know which way is up anymore.”

  I press into him farther and his hand slides down to my ass for the first time since he rescued me.

  He’s becoming harder and harder to push out of my head … and other places, as well. His heavy hand resting on my ass and him finding me pizza doesn’t help my cause.

  Not at all.

  Chapter 19

  Inevitable

  Jarvis

  I don’t remember the last time I’ve taken this much time doing nothing.

  Crew has forced downtime on me and I’ve either taken my mom somewhere for a weekend, hung out at Crew’s compound and sparred with the recruits, or stayed wherever the hell I was to see the world.

  Whichever it is, I’m on the go. I don’t sit well and I don’t relax. When I realized we’d be here until she felt well enough to travel, you’d think it would give me the shakes and I’d climb the white walls surrounding us. But being locked up with Gracie where nothing exists but us?

  Let’s just say if the week I spent holed up in the dark with Grace Cain is my measurement of perfection, then the rest of my life is going to suck in comparison. That is, after I got her to tell me what happened—or didn’t happen—before I found her. I’ve never known what relief felt like until that moment.

  She was still drugged, kidnapped, and beaten. I’m angry as hell about what was done to her and have been working on ID’ing the shithead who walked out of the airport with her. Donnelly is doing what she does best—annoying the shit out of every contact she knows to figure it out.