by Stacia Stone
And completely alone. I shove aside the devastating thought before it can overtake me. I’ve always had to be strong, to protect myself. Nothing about that has changed.
I get up to take my plate to the sink. Coming around the counter puts me in closer proximity to Leo than I’ve been since I first stepped foot in the apartment.
The air between us is suddenly charged and electric. Heat emanates off of him in waves, so much that it feels like I’ll be burned if I get closer.
So why do I so desperately want to get closer?
I look up to find him staring down at me, his dark eyes penetrating and unfathomable. The hand that rises to just barely brush over the light stubble on his cheek moves of its own volition. I can’t stop myself.
“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs, his analogy a mirror of my own.
I think I know what he means, but then I’m not sure that I do.
“Did I ever thank you for last night?” The thought suddenly occurs to me. “I just realized that I don’t think I did.”
His voice is husky. “You didn’t.”
“I feel like I should do something for you.”
I’m never bold like this. Nobody who knows me would peg me for the seductress. Boner-killer was what one guy said. That was after I told him Lynn wouldn’t be going home with him unless he could produce the results of an STD panel, dated within the last 30 days.
But something about Leo makes me feel different. Maybe it’s the way I catch him looking at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Or maybe it’s just that he’s literally the only person in the world right now that I can trust to keep me safe.
Which is incredibly ironic, considering I’m almost positive that he kills people for a living.
The thought of that should bother me. And on any other day, it probably would. But right now, all I can think is that he’s big and strong. That he knows how to take care of me, no matter what it takes.
He stands as still as a statue when I explore his face with the tips of my fingers. I have an attack of nervous self-consciousness. Is he not reacting because he’s desperately trying to think of a polite way to tell me he’s not interested or is it something else.
My thumb just barely dips past the curve of his bottom lip to graze the smooth wetness underneath.
Something inside of him seems to break.
Aggressively strong hands wrap around my upper arms in a bruising grip. I have exactly one moment of warning when the dark blaze of his eyes completely fills my vision and then his lips are on mine.
The kiss is electrifying. He shoves me up against the small space between the side of the fridge and the counter so I’m trapped. I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands sliding down my arms to curl around my waist and the press of his body against mine.
It makes sense for me to want him to want me. Wanting to sleep with me is as good a motivation as any to work at keeping me alive. But I only realize in that moment how much I want him. I want to be consumed and destroyed and then rebuilt from the ground up.
One of his hands moves up to lightly grasp my throat. His fingers press on the artery in my neck that jumps erratically with the frantic beat of my heart. When he presses harder, I momentarily see stars. An involuntary gasp escapes my lips, breaking the kiss.
He shoves back from me, the cold mask descending over his features. His expression reveals nothing but cool indifference.
“It isn’t going to happen, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I feign indifference, though his words hit me like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t want me. Why does that make me feel so awful? I barely even know this guy.
I’m used to guys not wanting me, to always being the girl that gets overlooked. But with him, it hits me harder than it ever has before.
“My appointment is in twenty minutes,” I say, keeping my voice casual even as I scream in frustration on the inside. “We should go.”
Leo agrees quickly and walks past me out of the kitchen, maneuvering so we don’t touch. He probably can’t wait to get rid of me. I should be used to rejection and abandonment by now, but this still hurts way more than it should.
The courthouse is on the other side of town. The awkward ride there feels like it takes forever. All I want to do is melt into the seat and disappear forever. The burn of embarrassment is almost more than I can handle.
I hope that the meeting goes off without any problems so I can head back to school. I just want to forget I’ve ever met anyone named Leo Baglio.
I pull at the waistband of the jeans. He picked them up for me at Walmart, since I obviously haven’t been back home to get any clothes. They ride low on the hips and if I bend too much, there’s a real risk of exposing more than just my belly button.
If he even notices my discomfort, Leo appears blithely unconcerned. He relaxes into the driver’s seat. His hands lightly grip the wheel. He navigates easily through midday traffic as if it’s second nature.
I wish I could just hate him.
Leo parallel parks in a space a few blocks away from the courthouse. I move to jump out of the car, but a restraining hand on my arm stops me.
“You see that?” he asks when I turn to him in surprise.
I follow his gaze to a bunch of motorcycles that are parked in an abandoned lot down the street from the courthouse. They wouldn’t have been visible to someone just walking into the building, but we’d had to circle the block to find parking.
“Coincidence?” I ask though I know how unlikely that is. “A lot of people in Newark ride bikes.”
“You willing to bet your life on that?”
I don’t like the reminder of how quickly things have escalated. Two days ago I was a normal college student whose biggest worry was studying for finals and making plans for Christmas vacation.
“Tell me what to do.”
Leo takes a minute to look up and down the street, his gaze carefully assessing. Every part of his body screams vigilance. From the coiled muscles in his legs to the way his hands slide down off the steering wheel and under his jacket. He's likely adjusting the weapon that I know is holstered somewhere on his body.
“You stay here,” he says, finally. “Lock the doors and get down in the seat. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re leaving me alone!?” Fear lends a high-pitched, shrill quality to my voice that grates on even my ears.
“Relax,” he says, with a small wince. “I just want to check things out.”
Leo doesn’t give me another chance to argue. He slides out of the car before I can stop him and slams the door shut. The car beeps and the doors lock as he hits the button on his remote.
I watch until he turns the corner on the next street and disappears from sight, before moving down in the seat like he instructed.
What am I going to do if he doesn’t come back? Where am I going to go? The thought of being left alone to fend for myself against my crazy-ass family terrifies me.
An eternity passes as I huddle with my knees on the floor of the car. Or maybe it’s only five minutes, but my messed up head can’t tell the difference.
I’m down there long enough that I can’t help but notice how clean the interior is. Even the floor is free of the bits of dirt and dust that accumulate in most vehicles. Leo either never drives anywhere or he details his car on a near-daily basis.
Judging from the state of his apartment, I’m guessing it’s the latter.
The passenger door opens so suddenly that I let out an involuntary scream. Leo is standing over me, nostrils flared and an angry expression his face.
“How the fuck did you get messed up with the Devil’s Rejects MC?”
I stare up at him, still huddled on the floor of his car. “The what?”
“Local motorcycle club caught up in the usual shit — some prostitution and drug-running. They keep their business to shit we’re not into, so we don’t usually involve ourselves.”
“Uh…okay.” I have no idea where he’s going
with this.
“A bunch of guys wearing their patch are hanging out around the courthouse. I’d place bets that they’re waiting for you.”
Oh, shit. “Did one of them have The Undertaker stitched on the back of his vest?”
“Maybe,” he grinds out, obviously exasperated. “How the fuck should I know?”
“I think maybe Mack sent them.”
“This is real shit, Mara.” The grim set of his mouth worries me as much as his tone. “C’mon, get out”
I slowly climb out of the car. Leo doesn’t raise a hand to help me, true gentleman that he is. Though I probably shouldn’t complain too much, since he’s the only thing standing between me and a group of drug-dealing bikers.
Once I’m standing next to him on the sidewalk, Leo holds out the keys to the car. I don’t take them. “Drive the car back to my apartment.”
“What about the hearing?”
“I’ll call Willy. He can go for you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna get some guys down here and take care of this.”
I can’t keep the quaver out of my voice. “What does that mean?”
“It means what the fuck it means, Mara.”
It’s broad daylight. He can’t possibly be thinking what I think he’s thinking. “Aren’t you worried about starting a war with the MC?”
“It’s that or let them have you.” He eyes me speculatively. “I bet there’s a nice price on your ass with all that money up for grabs. What do you say?”
“Fuck you.”
“We’ve already been over that, sweetheart.” He rubs the back of his neck, annoyance rolling off of him in waves. I get the feeling he doesn’t spend much time explaining himself to anyone, especially a woman. “I’m not worried about a war. The Devil’s Rejects aren’t big enough for that to be a problem. But I need your ass out of here before I can do anything. Unless you want to wait around for them to go looking for you?”
“Fine.” I snatch the keys out of his hand. “I’m going to be pissed if you get yourself killed.”
“You worried about me?” His voice is full of sardonic amusement. “That’s sweet.”
I walk away from him before I give into the urge to punch him in the throat. I’m completely torn between anger at his high-handedness and terror at the thought that he’s about to get himself killed. “I just don’t want to be out a bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard, huh? That’s a new one.”
He waits for me to get in the car, probably wanting to make sure I actually follow instructions.
I wonder if it’ll be the last time I ever see him.
Chapter Seven
Leo
Mara looks like a ghost when I walk back into the apartment. It's been a couple hours since she left me at the courthouse. She sits abnormally still on the very edge of my couch with her hands clenched tight in her lap. Her face is as white as a bedsheet.
She almost jumps out of her skin when the front door slams shut behind me. I realize that she didn’t hear me come in.
“What happened?” She moves quickly around the couch and comes to an abrupt stop in front of me. Her gaze takes in the slight bruise on my cheek and my split lip. Minor wounds compared to the damage that I inflicted. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” The anxious look she’s wearing makes me want to kiss her until the lines of worry fade from her face. After the way she threw herself at me this morning, it’s taking everything I have not to force her down to her knees and shove my dick into that smart mouth.
At this point, I deserve a fucking medal for my restraint. Vito, you fat fuck, I hope you’re somewhere burning because I sure as hell am.
I don’t know why I’m even acting like such a fucking saint. I want her and she apparently wants me. I remind myself that the situation is complicated enough as it is, there’s no reason to make it worse.
But I need to get her out of here and back to that prissy school of hers as soon as possible.
I go to the kitchen and grab a bottle off the top shelf of the cupboard. I don’t even bother to look at the label before pouring a full glass. Alcohol burns down my throat as I take a healthy swig. I instantly feel a little better.
Mara is still looking at me like she’s got her heart in her mouth. I feel the perverse need to reassure her, like I fucking care.
“It’s fine, Mara.”
“What happened?” she asks again.
“We took care of it. They’re off your back for now.”
She raises an eyebrow and gives me that haughty look that I’m coming to realize is just the normal set of her face. “And what about later?”
“I’m still working on later.”
Truthfully, I have no idea what we’re going to do. The MC will keep their distance for now. But knocking a few heads together isn’t going to keep them away forever. Short of taking out Mack, a few bikers and probably her mother too, I can’t think of a single thing that will get them off her case forever. That much money on the line is a potent inducement for mayhem. Under other circumstances, I might be tempted myself.
And I realize that I’ve been thinking in terms of we, instead of she. Like we’re in this together now, or some shit. Damnit.
This is what happens when you try to do the right thing.
Mara turns away from me. She walks back to the couch and sinks slowly into it. Any other woman would be in hysterics, but not this one. You can see it in her eyes. The wheel’s in this girl’s head never stop turning.
“Would you come sit with me for a minute?”
I eye her suspiciously. Something in her tone alerts me to the fact that I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say.
I don’t move. Whatever she has say, I can hear from here. “What?”
She turns to look at me over the back of the couch. “Come sit.”
“No. Talk.” I use that brusque tone that’s convinced every woman I’ve ever known not to push me.
Of course, it doesn’t work on Mara. She just looks at me with a tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
“You’re really stubborn, you know that.”
She’d see stubborn when I put her over my knee, flip up her skirt and spank her bare ass until she bleeds. “Spit it out, woman.”
Mara lets out a weary sigh like I’m the one who’s impossible to deal with. “Fine. I’ve been thinking about what I can do about all this…well, actually what we can do.”
“What we can do, huh.” My tone is deliberately sardonic. I try to remember when I agreed that this was all also my problem. I’m drawing a blank. “And what’s that?”
I see the annoyance pass over her features, but she’s doing her best to hide it. Probably because she’s about to ask me to do something that she knows I’m not going to want to do.
“The real problem is that Cecile still thinks she can get at this money. Right now, it’s just threats to get me to sign it over. But eventually she and Mack are gonna figure if they can find a way to just get rid of me without getting pinned, the cash goes to her by default.”
I’m surprised and a little impressed by how matter-of-fact she rattles it all off. Like, oh yeah, gotta figure out what I’m gonna do when my own mother tries to murder me.
I’ve worked hard to be stone cold. Makes me wonder what the hell Cecile must have done to Mara as a kid to make her like this.
“What’s your point?”
“I have to stick around long enough to make sure the will gets sorted out with courts. I also need to get the accounts in order and move everything around. Something tells me that Cecile got her hands on at least a few of Papa’s account numbers over the years. I can’t go back to school until that’s all done. But short of sleeping at the police station, I’m running out of safe places to stay.”
“So you want to crash here for a while?”
“Well, yeah.” She says that like she’s already been offered my hospitality for the duration. Presumptuous little b
rat. “But that still doesn’t stop them coming after me.”
“Just spit out.”
“Jesus, you’re impossible.” She blows out a rush of air. “The only way I can think of to protect my inheritance is to make sure Cecile and Mack know that if something happens to me, the money goes to someone else.”
Her hands nervously clench and unclench in her lap. For anyone else, the movement would have been pretty much unnoticeable. But for someone as nonreactive as Mara, it means she might as well be sweating bullets. There’s something about this that I’m not getting.
“What, like donating it to charity?”
“It would have to be something that they wouldn’t want to go up against. Mack isn’t afraid of a charity.” She pauses and I realize what an effort it’s taking her to get this out. “But I think they might be afraid of you.”
“You want to leave your money to me?”
“No. I want you to marry me.”
This crazy bitch. “No. Hell, no.”
She glares at me. “You’d rather they just kill me?”
I’ve done more for this broad than I have for anyone still breathing. But this is a bridge headed out into the ocean, or too fucking far as the saying goes. “I’m not doing that.”
“It would only be temporary, just until I figure something else out. We can get an annulment after a few months.” Real fear flares in her dark eyes. “You are literally the only person that can help me right now.”
“Sorry sweetheart. The answer is no.”
I expect the tears that I think I see shining in her eyes to fall, but once again she surprises me.
“You promised Papa that you’d take care of me.” She regards me solemnly. “Doesn’t that mean something?”
“I sincerely doubt this is what he fucking meant.” The idea is so ludicrous that I want to look around for hidden cameras. This has to be some kind of prank because the universe wouldn’t be this cruel. “You want protection or someone’s head bashed in? That I can do.”
“I’d pay you.” Her mouth sets in a stubborn line. “However much you want. Fifty thousand? A hundred?”
“I don’t need your fucking money.”
