by Amanda Perry
I nod against his shoulder, unwilling to move. He hugs me closer for a second. Then, his hands move to my shoulders, and he pulls me back to look into my eyes. He searches them for a long time, but I’m not sure what he hopes to find. I don’t hide anything from him, though. I let every emotion in me play like a silent film for him.
“You’re okay?” he asks as he pushes a stray lock of hair from my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
It’s my turn to laugh now. “You’re joking, right?”
Maverick simply lifts one brow, waiting for a real response. “Answer me, sweet girl.”
My body clenches around him at the new nickname and his demanding tone. “Taylor,” he grunts, growing hard inside me.
“I’m fine, and you most certainly did not hurt me. The complete opposite, actually.” I move my hips a little and revel in the fact that he now struggles for composure. “I wouldn’t mind being taught another lesson, though.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re still going to listen to me about dating that kid.”
“I know.” I sigh happily and lay a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll text him later. I’m busy right now.”
He relaxes under me, and I grin against his lips. I continue to rock against him, while he moves his hands down to grip my hips and guide my movements. “You’re playing with fire, sweet girl.”
“Hmm.” I kiss down his jaw to his neck. “I’ve always liked a nice cozy fire.”
He pulls back and forces me to look up at him. He captures my lips in a soft, yet domineering kiss while he uses his grip on my hips to rock me back and forth.
A loud knock startles us both, and he halts his movements. His arms cover most of my body. He turns the chair around, facing us away from the door. My shirt never fully came off, so my back is fully covered. He easily drops my skirt over my ass. His hand rests on the back on my head and pulls me to his shoulder. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t think to lock the stupid door. If Maverick wasn’t covering me, anyone could walk in and get an eyeful. His protective instinct warms me all over.
“Not now,” he barks. He has no clue who may be on the opposite side of the door. I giggle silently into his shoulder when the knocking stops. If it were me on the other side of the door, and Maverick shouted at me like that, I’d probably run in the opposite direction, too.
“We need to get decent. That could have been my boss.” I groan pitifully and pull myself off his lap. “We’re lucky they didn’t just walk right in.”
He reaches for me, but I jump back and smirk. “I hate to say this, but get dressed.”
“Don’t wanna,” he grunts. He links his hands behind his head and relaxes fully naked in my office chair.
For a second, I want to tell him he should never wear clothes again. Then, I remember someone may need to speak with me about work. “No one else gets to see that,” I point between his legs, then wiggle my finger around to point at the rest of him, “or any of that either. Get your clothes on.”
He snorts but gets up to find his clothes. “I’m not used to being told what to do, you know.” This Maverick is new. I’ve never witnessed him so relaxed and calm. Maybe he needed this as badly as I did.
“Ditto, bossy man.” I find his shirt and throw it at him.
He catches it and smirks at me. “Fine, I’ll get dressed, but you should get used to being told what to do.” He strides over to me while I slip my panties back on. He grips my chin and pulls my face to his for a quick, hard kiss. “We need to talk, sweet girl.”
Luckily, I have a distraction from the impending chat he wants. When the two of us look less like we thoroughly fucked each other, I open the door and search around for anyone waiting outside but the hall is empty. Something on the ground catches my attention. A white envelope with the company logo on the top corner and my name printed on the outside.
“It was probably Kallie from the mailroom,” I mutter, then scoop up the envelope and close my office door. “She’ll never speak to me again, I’m sure.”
Maverick rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I doubt that’s true.”
He leans against the wall to slip his shoes on while I open the envelope then scan the contents of the letter inside once, then twice. “M-Maverick,” I stutter as the letter falls from my hands to the desk.
He rushes to my side in an instant, pulling my back to his front. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
With a shaky finger, I point to the letter on my desk. “He was here. He... he...”
Maverick scans the letter and curses under his breath. He spins me around and buries my face into his chest while he pulls out his phone and calls for backup.
It won’t do any good, though. The man after me took another life in an attempt to get to me. He included another picture in the letter. Somehow, he managed to get the picture onto a computer and printed somewhere in the office.
You didn’t believe me. Maybe this will prove it to you. This man tried to get in my way when I wanted to see you. Look what you made me do to him. You should be ashamed of yourself, Pet. All I want is what belongs to me, and I’m beginning to get impatient.
He managed to come and go before anyone noticed Frank, the security guard, lying lifeless in the men’s bathroom.
By the time backup arrives, the man who killed Frank is long gone. He avoided every camera in the building, which tells me he’s been here before or hired someone to find the locations of the cameras for him. No prints are found on the letter or envelope, aside from mine and Kallie’s from the mailroom. She had no idea anything suspicious happened. The letter came in a large stack to be delivered. She was only doing her job.
My boss came to speak with us after the police interviewed everyone. He suggested I work from home until the danger passed. His unspoken words were loud and clear. Don’t come back and ruin anyone else’s life. You need to stay far away.
24
Taylor
Sleep used to be something I loved. I looked forward to naps and bedtime. If I didn’t get enough sleep, everyone around me suffered. Now, I can’t even close my eyes because every time I do, I see the picture of Frank. I see the look on his wife’s face when she came into the building after the police called her. I hear her screams and cries of denial. The guilt rips my heart out and tears it to shreds. I remember the police officer killed because of me. I see the picture of his wife and children as they buried him. I think of Parker and her panic attack caused by the note sent for me. My chest aches, and my heart races. Sleep has become impossible.
For the first two weeks after Frank’s murder, I couldn’t handle being around anyone. The disappointment and condemnation would be written all over their faces. More than once I considered giving myself up to McCreepearson, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. Grumpy needs me, and I can’t let him down. I never even got around to suggesting I move into my own place, again.
My guys let me set up camp in my room for a while. Occasionally, they’d convince me to let them in with food that sits mostly untouched. Food only makes my stomach sick. Even my Diet Coke tastes sour.
While I lay in my bed at three in the morning and wish for sleep for the millionth time in two weeks, a scratching sound reaches my ears in the quiet. At first, I chalk it up to the wind outside pushing branches against the house.
Then, it happens again, and I know it’s coming from my closet. I sit up in bed and watch the door; my heart thumps hard in my chest. The scratching stops, and I relax until a loud thud sounds inside the closet. I throw the covers off and jump out of the bed. My feet shuffle across the hardwood as I race from my room to the one closest to me, which happens to be Maverick’s room. Not bothering with a knock, I throw the door open and call his name.
He sits straight up in bed and reaches for his nightstand where he keeps his gun. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“A noise.” I huff, puff, and slide behind him before I point toward my bedroom. “Someone’s in my closet.”
Maverick glances back at me over hi
s shoulder and frowns as if he didn’t hear me correctly. “In your closet?”
At my nod, he stands. “Stay here.” He lets the covers drop to reveal only a pair of tight boxer briefs. He doesn’t bother with clothes as he cautiously makes his way to my bedroom.
Of course, I don’t listen to his orders. Instead, I tiptoe after him, watch as he finally reaches my closet, and throws the door open. He points his gun into the dark space. I hold my breath and wait. A small gray thing runs from the closet, past Maverick, and out my bedroom door. It shocks me, and I squeal in surprise.
Maverick lowers his weapon, then spins to face me with his hands on his hips. “I told you to stay in my room.”
“I wanted to see if I could help,” I say defensively.
The look he gives me is the same one from in my office before he taught me a lesson. My thighs clench together, and I give in to the urge to turn away from him.
The rest of the guys emerge from their rooms in various stages of undress. My cheeks burn when they cover me and search the area for the reason behind my scream. They pepper me with questions about what happened. Maverick starts out with a small grin, but soon, he can’t hide his laughter. I shoot my meanest glare his way, but he doesn’t notice.
He’s too busy snitching on me. “It was the cat.” No one speaks for a long moment.
“Cat? You mean Flakes?” Syn scratches his jaw to cover his smile. “You’re afraid of cats?”
I growl. “No, I thought it was a person in my closet. Since when do you guys have a freaking cat?”
“We don’t have a cat. It belongs to the neighbor across the street. Syn fed it tuna once, and it sneaks back into the house on occasion now, searching for more.” Marak explains with a grin.
“You thought the neighbor’s cat was a human?” Allistar repeats my words, only with a twist to make me look like a total idiot.
“It’s not like I saw the damn cat and thought ‘oh, look a human,’” I snap. “It was a noise in my closet, and I panicked. I thought someone was hiding in there, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You’re okay, though?” Marak asks and hugs me close. Currently, he’s my favorite.
I deflate in his hold. “I’m fine, just tired.”
He pulls back and scans my face. “When was the last time you slept, Red?”
I shrug and turn my head away. They don’t need to worry about me and my inability to sleep. “I’m fine,” I repeat. If I say it enough, I might believe it. “I’ll just go back to bed.”
“Let’s all get back to bed. You’re okay now, Taylor?” Allistar asks.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, pulling away from Marak and slinking to my bed. “Thanks for helping me.”
Maverick stops in the middle of my room and turns toward me. “We’ll always come when you call for us, Taylor.” The others nod their agreement, and I drop my head, hiding the tears that fill my eyes.
Everyone else makes it back to their rooms except Marak. He remains in my doorway, watching me. “You’re not sleeping.”
It isn’t a question, but I shake my head anyway. “Can’t. But I’m...”
“Fine,” he finishes with a huff. “Yeah, I heard that somewhere.” He pauses for a beat, then releases a long sigh when I don’t say a word. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Is it because of what happened?” His voice is soft as he crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I admit. He doesn’t specify an incident, but any of them qualify as a cause.
He studies me for a while but doesn’t say anything more. Finally, he strolls over to me and picks me up from my bed as if I’m a pillow or a stuffed animal.
“What the hell are you doing?” I squeak and cling to him with my arms around his neck.
“Maybe having company will help you sleep. You can stay in my room with me.” He winks.
I snort. “You’re not serious, right?”
“I’m not going to try anything, Red. You need sleep, and I need to help you. Normally, this would be Allistar’s or Syn’s area of expertise, but I think this solution is ingenious. We can take care of what the other needs.” When he says it like that, it makes some strange kind of sense. Normally, Allistar would be the one jumping at the chance to take care of something, or Syn would be all over me about the health hazards of no sleep. I’m not at all disappointed by Marak’s attention.
He softly lays me in his bed, then hops over me to the other side. I giggle at his circus act. “You’re such a dork.”
“You like it.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
My smile drops. I decide to go out on a limb with an honest answer and see what happens. “I like it more than I should.”
He sucks in a breath. “What do you mean by that, Red?”
For a split second, I want to admit everything to him. I want to tell him I’m in love with him and his three best friends. I want him to give me some good advice on what to do and not call me a whore while kicking me out on my ass. I want him to say it’ll all be okay in the end and no one will get hurt.
Instead, I press a hard kiss to his mouth. He gasps in surprise, catching me by the waist when I roll on top of him. He takes control of the kiss quickly, flipping us over to hover above me.
We spend the rest of the night taking care of each other. I’m fairly certain it isn’t the kind of care Marak meant when he brought me to his room, but it makes me feel much better.
It takes a while, but I manage to get a good night of sleep after some strenuous exercise thanks to Marak.
25
Taylor
“Taylor, please tell me you’ve done this before.”
The fear in Syn’s eyes brings a fit of laughter from me though I nod at him. “I’ve done this plenty of times. My Grammy used to let me dye her hair all the time. I’ve dyed Michelle’s hair a few times also though her husband insists she goes to the spa to get it done every few months now. He’s sickeningly sweet. I hate and love the man.”
“Did their hair turn out the intended color when you did it?” He frowns deeply and watches my every move as I mix the hair dye. Somehow it was agreed upon that I would finally dye Syn’s hair. My theory is they used it as an excuse to pull me from my room after another week of self-pity.
Syn didn’t get a chance to chicken out this time, which is how we find ourselves in the middle of the kitchen with him on a stool and me holding a bottle of dye.
I roll my eyes at his concern. “I take offense to that. Besides, you’re dying your hair blue, Syn. If it turns green instead is that really a major concern?”
“I don’t like green. I want it blue. Maybe I should just do it.” He reaches for the bottle in my hand, but I pull it away.
“Don’t be such a wimp. It’s going to be blue, and your hair probably won’t fall out.” Syn’s eyes grow wide, and he starts to stand from the stool.
Laughing, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back down. “I’m kidding! Oh my god, it’s so fun to mess with you.”
“Yeah, hilarious.” He tries to hide the trace of humor in his voice, but it doesn’t work well. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
After Syn settles back onto the stool, I drape an old towel around his shoulders and go about squirting the dye on his hair. He remains silent and I wonder if he’s afraid talking will mess me up.
It doesn’t take long to get down to the last little bit in the bottle as I notice a few spots need some extra coverage. I shake the bottle upside down to get the dye out. Allistar walks by us on his way into the kitchen after time in their basement gym. He doesn’t pay attention to what we’re doing. The sight of him post-workout distracts me, so I shake the bottle a little bit too hard. The tip meets with the top of Syn’s head with an audible thunk.
“Oh shit!” With a horrified gasp, I pull the bottle away and take a step back.
Syn starts to reach up to grab his head but stops himself in time to spare his hand from turning blue. Allistar, who stopped his pursuit to the kitchen, rema
ins completely still as we wait for Syn’s reaction. Poor Syn takes a few deep breaths, clearly trying to calm himself, but it does no good.
He takes off into a cursing, yelling, pissed off tangent. Normally, I’d feel horrible for hitting him in the head, but for some reason the entire situation becomes hysterical, and I can’t stop myself from dissolving into a fit of laughter. Allistar spins on his heel, shoulders shaking, and continues on toward his destination. The big baby doesn’t want to get caught laughing at Syn.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Syn pushes to his feet and stomps to the half bathroom located down the hall from the dining room. He gently pushes the area I hit and winces. “Is there blood? I think you broke the skin.”
I only laugh harder at his bitching and whining. I nearly fall over as I try to pull in precious air. “I-I-I’m sorry!”
Syn shoots a look of disbelief my way and shakes his head. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
The apology was sincere, but it doesn’t take the humor out of it. Still, I do my best to control myself, taking multiple deep breaths.
A few stray giggles escape while I check his head, and with each one, he glares at me in the mirror. “Really, I didn’t mean to do that. I was distracted. Luckily, the skin isn’t broken, and the dye isn’t messed up. You’ll survive and so will your precious hair.”
“Next time, I’m doing this shit myself,” Syn grumbles, passing me on his way out of the bathroom. If I hadn’t noticed his lips twitching, I might worry that he was truly mad.
I chuckle as I watch him stomp away. “You’re welcome!”
I had fun hanging out with Syn, and I scold myself thoroughly for caving in. The small bit of fun with him lifted my spirits, but I should be hiding in my room and staying away from them. Instead, Allistar forced me to help him cook us all dinner after I nearly gave Syn a concussion.
While frying burgers in a cast iron skillet, Allistar stands wide-eyed. “You can cook?”
