by K. Webster
“I’m still your friend, asshole,” Logan spits and cracks his knuckles. “But you need to get the fuck off my property and calm your ass down before I have my boys bring you in.”
Donovan runs his fingers through his always gelled-to-perfection hair, messing it up completely. I’ve never seen him so furious. Not like this. Sure, he’s had moments where his powerful exterior falls away and reveals a vulnerable man. But it doesn’t happen often. Unfortunately, it only happens when it concerns me.
I’m Donovan’s weakness.
The very sword he’d impale himself on if it came to it.
“I want to talk to Nadia alone,” Donovan hisses, his eyes flitting over to me. Assessing me. Washing over me. Checking to make sure I’m okay. It’s the way Donovan is. He protects and takes care of what belongs to him. Always and without fail.
“Not going to fucking happen,” Logan snaps. “Not when you’re so pissed off.”
Donovan screams again and launches himself at Logan. They crash down the hallway past the basement door through the entryway to my bedroom. The door is nearly ripped from its hinges and they both fall into the room with a grunt. I hurry after them to make sure they aren’t killing each other.
Logan manages to straddle Donovan and back hand him. But Donovan’s a big boy and he shoves Logan away. He yanks a gun from the back of his pants and points it at Logan, his chest heaving with intent—intent to kill—and I cry out as I rush him. If he kills Logan, he kills me. My heart will cease to beat.
“No!” I shriek and tackle him onto my bed, knocking the gun from his hand onto the floor. We’re a tangled mess of limbs and his arms instinctively wrap around my back.
“Oh, God,” he grunts, his breath coming out in labored breaths. “How did this happen? How did you fall for him?”
I hear a familiar click of metal and I stiffen in Donovan’s arms.
“Let her go and get the fuck out of my house.” Logan’s voice is low and scathing.
Donovan grips me harder but I struggle and squirm until I’m out of his arms. My eyes dart all around as I take in the scene before me. Donovan, the big, strong powerful man on his back, stares up at me from the bed, betrayal marring his features. And Logan stands over him pointing his dropped gun at his face.
“This isn’t over,” Donovan snaps and scrambles to his feet. He storms over to me and quickly hugs me once more before he stalks out of the house. The front door slams as he leaves and my weak heart goes with him.
Logan strides over to me and uses the barrel of Donovan’s gun to lift my chin. My eyes lock with the monstrous ones I’d been so good at containing. His beast is running wild and free. And it’s starving. Starving for me.
“You’re in so much fucking trouble, bad girl.”
Yesterday, I lost control. I’d had the bitch in my grasp and I fucking lost it. I nearly kissed her for fuck’s sake. And when I’d seen her bruises and the way Logan tore through her flesh with his teeth, I was infuriated.
I’d like to lie to myself and claim it was because he was ruining her before I could get my hands on her. But that wasn’t it. All night, I lay in bed and contemplated my newfound anger that for once wasn’t directed at her. I thought about Mom and Dale. The eerily similar relationship between Logan and Nadia. My mind had been a mess thinking about ways to fucking save her like I could never do for my own mother.
Fucking ridiculous in hindsight.
This morning though, I woke up with my head back in the game. My new plan was formulating and beginning to take shape. A plan to impregnate Nadia and spend the rest of my life terrorizing her for child visitation and all the other bullshit that goes along with shared custody. So goddamned tempting. I wouldn’t simply mess up her world for now, I could mess it up until the day she dies. Every time she looked at her child, she’d be reminded of me. Just like every time I look at her, I’m reminded of my sister who she couldn’t help.
I’ll be her worst fucking nightmare.
At least she wouldn’t get beat on…
The thought sobers me up, once again my own personal experiences clouding my judgment, and I shake it away. I need to slowly work my way into her heart. Make her love me even. She’ll fall for me, head over fucking heels. I will be her security. Her love. Her safety. Once she’s finally settled in my arms, my child growing in her stomach, maybe even a ring on her finger, I’ll dump her.
Dramatically.
Suddenly.
And watch her whole world crumble around her.
I will remind her she’s just a stupid bitch and if she’d ever learn to pay attention, she would have noticed it was all a fucking act. An act that resulted in her destruction, all in the name of revenge.
“Isn’t that right, Ghost?” Logan’s voice booms, jerking me from my daydreaming about his fiancée.
Fucking woman beater.
I drag my gaze to meet his and nod. “Tourist season is always a bitch. I agree, extra patrol, especially on the weekends. Are we in a position to hire more unis?”
His eyes flicker in surprise, probably at the fact that I was listening and heard every word of his speech. But he knows me better than that. I don’t miss a single thing. Ever.
“Yeah, HR is already interviewing. Until then, I’ll assign some boys to rotate shifts,” he tells me as he stands from his desk. He walks over to the door and closes it before coming to sit back down. “I need your help with something. On the down low. Between us.”
I sit up in my seat and affix him with a curious stare. “What’s up?”
“Donovan fucking Jayne,” he says with a growl. “Bastard showed up last night at the house. I was in the basement and Nadia unknowingly let him in. He went ape shit on her and damn near threw her over his shoulder caveman style. Luckily, I got him out of there.”
My eyes sweep over him. His easygoing demeanor he usually wears is gone. I’ve seen this murderous scowl on his face once before when I was with my best friend. We watched as Logan kicked the shit out of some pimply kid at the rec center. It took Donovan and a couple of other guys to pull him off. I’d never heard what set him off but it was eye-opening to see someone who was normally fairly calm in an all-out rage.
He keeps his beast contained in public, that’s for damn sure.
These days, though, it appears Logan is having a hard time keeping his smile affixed and his shoulders relaxed. In fact, he’s struggling to keep what I now know is a mask in place.
“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, rubbing at a knot at the base of my neck.
He sighs and pulls his phone from his pocket when a timer goes off. I watch him poke at six numbers before he shoves it back into his pocket. “We sort of had a brawl. The house is torn all to shit. I was wondering if maybe you could come by tonight and take a look. Maybe take some measurements and get some crap to fix it. I’ll pay double your normal rate if you push any of your clients out of the way and help me out.”
The idea of spending more time with Nadia is tempting. And actually perfectly fits my plan. “Sure, man.”
“That’s not all,” he tells me and steeples his fingers together as he rests his elbows on his desk. “During the day, while you’re on duty, I want eyes on Donovan. I want you to watch his every move and report back to me if he does anything stupid. If I have to put his ass away, I will. Nobody is taking Nadia away from me. Not even her perverted stepdaddy.”
I clench my teeth to keep from smirking.
I’m taking her away, asshole.
Instead of revealing the seething rage that simmers below the surface, I flash him an easy smile and stand. “On it, Chief.”
I leave his office and stalk back to mine. Once I’ve pushed through the door, my gaze instantly surveys the space. The very first thing I notice is the scent. A lingering smell of sex. Familiar. Enticing.
Kicking the door closed behind me, I stride over to my desk. My nameplate has been shoved away but aside from that, the space appears to be untouched. I sit at my desk and my eyes ze
ro in on blood.
Blood from her wrist.
Smeared across the edge of my desk.
That motherfucker had sex with her on my desk.
Fury explodes within me and I clench my fists. Everything in me screams to storm back into his office and bash his goddamned skull in. To rip away his good cop mask and reveal to the entire precinct what sort of monster lies within.
But I don’t.
Instead, I take a deep breath and lean back in my desk chair. My eyes land on my pen and I pluck it from its stand. I’ve had this pen since before I left for college. Kasey saved up all of her babysitting money and bought it for me as a going away present for college. It’s special to me. Very fucking special.
It’s streaked and my heart thumps in my chest. Curiously, I draw it up to my face just under my nose and inhale. A growl rumbles in my throat. It reeks of sex. With an annoyed sigh, I grab a tissue and set to cleaning the damn thing off. This display of marking his property in my office is a good indication of his beast tearing through its cage. Eventually people will see him for who he really is. Once the pen is safely back in its holder, still smelling like her, I stand and leave my office as I attempt to harness my anger for her. With Logan doing stupid shit at every turn, he’s making me lose my focus.
And I need to focus.
To remember the plan.
I’ll make her so crazy in love she’ll gladly give up her abusive man for someone like me.
A small grin plays at my lips as I stride out of the building toward my car, a cold chill swooping down from the mountains, freezing my already frigid heart.
Time to play, sweet Jayne.
Today, following Donovan around, was a waste of my goddamn time. He’d just sat up in his big office all day at the Aspen Pines Lodge he owns at the top of the mountain. When he left for lunch, he was on the phone the entire time, pacing and yelling at whoever was on the other line. I’m sure he’s trying to find a way to get his precious stepdaughter back. Probably recruiting the best damn lawyers or some shit. Problem is, though, he doesn’t realize just how powerful Logan is. Logan gets what he wants. Always. Donovan isn’t big enough to take that away from him.
Lucky for me, I am.
And I will.
I will take the pretty little she-devil right from under him.
It’s going to be satisfying to watch it all crumble.
I’m pulled from my thoughts once I turn onto Logan’s driveway. He’d said to come after work to take some measurements so I could purchase the materials necessary. When I texted him to let him know I was on my way, he’d been short in his response, telling me he got hung up at the office and he’d see me shortly.
The smile on my lips is immediate as I put my car in park and climb out. I’ll have a few minutes with Nadia alone. Just enough time to rile her up a bit.
I bang on the door and then a few minutes later, she answers, shock morphing her features. My eyes peruse down her tight, low-cut long-sleeved dress that hits her mid-thigh. The material is bright orange and makes her skin seem even tanner than usual.
“You do realize it’s supposed to snow today?” I ask, raising a brow at her wardrobe choice.
She frowns and folds her arms across her chest. “It’s warm inside. What do you want?”
Ignoring her rudeness, I shoulder past her into the house and saunter over to a large hole in the wall. Music plays in the background—some Dean Martin crap—and I shake my head. “This is going to be fun,” I groan, putting my hands on my hips.
I hear the door slam behind me and her bare feet padding across the wood floor. “You should probably leave.”
She comes to stand beside me and I turn to her and smirk. “Your fiancé asked me to come over and take some measurements. You wouldn’t want to upset him again,” I tell her with a low hiss. “He might bite your jugular next time.”
“Hijo de puta...” she retorts in Spanish and I make note to look it up later. An annoyed huff then escapes her and she comes to stand in front of me. “Very funny. But just so you know, you’re being recorded. Don’t try anything like you did in your office yesterday. I can assure you he won’t be happy.” She lifts her chin and meets my gaze bravely.
Nonchalantly, I skim my eyes over every surface in the living room. While I walk over and touch the parts of the wall that needs repairing, I survey the space for the alleged cameras. Sure enough, one is mounted high in one corner. The Dean Martin song ends and soon Stephen Tyler is belting out the lyrics to “Crazy.” Now this, this I approve of.
“Where else is there damage?” I question, my voice all business.
She motions for me to follow her down the hallway. A quick glance tells me there isn’t a camera in here. But as we pass a door with a keypad, I stop and point at it. “What’s in there?”
Her head whips around to face me and her eyes widen. “The basement. Dreadful place.”
Running my finger along the keypad, I raise an eyebrow at her. “Keeping the monsters out,” I question, my voice dropping low, “or in?”
Her face blanches and she swats my hand away from it. “If only it kept them out,” she mutters, a hint of fear lacing her words. “Now don’t touch that again. Not ever.” Her gaze becomes hard and it makes me curious. I give her a clipped nod and follow her to a bedroom where the doorframe is splintered and a piece of wood hangs from it. My eyes skim the room and I notice another camera.
I pull out my measuring tape and jot a few things down on my notepad, ignoring her eyes boring into me. Once I’ve taken a few pictures of the doorway and made my notes, I go back into the hallway. When I walk into the master bedroom, she yells at me.
“Don’t go in there!”
Scowling at her, I shrug my shoulders and make my way into the room anyway. A quick glance around tells me there’s another camera in here. I slip into the bathroom to take a piss. After I wash my hands, I exit the bathroom to find her glaring at me as she sits on the bed. I smirk at her and let my eyes graze over a locked chest at the end of the bed before stepping back into the hallway. When I’m certain she’s on my heels, I turn around abruptly. She lets out a squeak when she runs right into my hard chest.
“No cameras in here?”
She shakes her head and furrows her brows in confusion. “No, why?”
My hands find her curvy waist and I push her gently against the wall beside the key pad. “Because I should have kissed you yesterday and I’ve been wanting to do it ever since.” Her eyes widen when my mouth descends on hers.
“No,” she retorts with a bite to her voice, “I would never—”
But her words are silenced when my nose nudges against hers and I inhale her. She parts her mouth open and lets out a sweet gasp the second my lips brush against hers. I slip a hand into her dark, wavy locks and grip her hair, tilting her to where I can gain better access. A small sound escapes her and it makes my cock thicken in my slacks. Crushing her with my kiss, I plan to take it slow. Tease her with it. Instead, I end up devouring her because she tastes so goddamned delicious.
A few moments later, she places her hands on my chest and pushes me away. Her brown eyes, which swirl like melted chocolate, regard me curiously. When I’m this close to her, she seems like less of a villain and more of something I’d like to conquer for my own selfish male reasons that have nothing to do with my sister. With my lips still wet from our kiss, a haze of confusion briefly clouds my mind.
“Never what, sweet Jayne? Kiss me? Too late,” I taunt, a hint of playfulness in my voice. I want to throttle myself for sounding like a pussy but I calmly remember that I’m supposed to be wooing her, not treating her like a fucking asshole.
She starts to argue but my lips are on hers again. Her hot breaths quicken as I thrust my tongue inside of her.
“The video,” she squeaks out suddenly and jerks from my grasp.
I frown at her, understanding washing over me, and saunter down the hallway away from her. She scampers into the bedroom with the splintered doorfram
e. Licking my lips, I revel in her sweet taste while I measure the wall for the Sheetrock. After several minutes, she comes up beside me and peers at what I’m doing.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispers.
Shrugging, I turn toward her. “Does it pick up sound?”
“No,” she assures me. “I’ve tested it before.”
“So he won’t hear if I fuck you against the wall in the hallway?”
She swallows and her eyes dart to mine at my words. A crimson heat darkens her neck. It affects my cock and I grit my teeth to ward off the obvious hard-on. “I guess not,” she murmurs. “Care for a drink of water?”
When she motions for the kitchen, I trail after her and look for cameras along the way. The moment I step into the kitchen, I quickly determine there isn’t a camera in here either.
“What’s with all the cameras?” I wonder aloud as she locates a glass from a cabinet.
Her lips pout into a small frown that has me wanting to suck on her bottom lip. “He’s very…protective.”
“No,” I tell her, clutching her bicep as she turns to face me. “He’s a lot more than protective. He’s fucking obsessive.”
She winces at my gentle grasp and I frown.
“Did he hurt you again?” I demand, anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach. Last time I’d been amused. But this time…this time I’m irritated as fuck.
“No,” she breathes, her one word a vicious lie. Her eyes drift away from mine and she fixates them on the floor.
I blink at her in shock. “Then show me.”
Snapping her gaze back to mine, she furrows her eyebrows together and shakes her head. “No, Kasper.”
With a huff, I grab on to her hips and push her against the cabinet. I grasp onto the top of her dress and slowly drag it down over her shoulder. Her eyes snare mine in her brave gaze. She doesn’t try to stop me, even when I pull the material down over her tit that’s hidden under a black bra. Once I can see from her shoulder to her elbow, I inspect the flesh. Bruises paint her skin, and in some places the flesh is torn, a fresh scab on top.
