by Deanna Chase
“You first.”
“Visiting a friend.”
“Likewise.”
That answer didn’t satisfy him, but he looked as if he were expecting it.
“Where did you meet?” He pressed on.
I shrugged and considered a little rephrasing. “I was out for a run.”
“From who?”
I leaned back to take a long, very long, slow sip of that beer.
Knox leaned forward. “I think we’re both bullshitting here—you ever play that card game?”
“With my grandma, every Sunday after church.”
He laughed and that’s when Adam burst through the front door. If he had just seen us sitting in the living room there might not have been such concern on his face. But his features were marred by the state of disarray the kitchen closet was in.
“In here. Ignore the mess, everything’s fine.”
Adam came in, not surprised to see Knox, as his Jeep would have tipped him off. The keys were tossed on the bar and Knox stood up to give him a handshake when Adam shoved his hand against his chest. “Did you touch her?”
“As if,” Knox choked out.
I interrupted the birth of a fight. “I’m sorry I broke your closet shelf, but you don’t put cleaners out of reach unless you have kids. They go under the sink.”
“You should listen to the woman,” Knox said as he patted Adam on the back. “Or should I say… your woman?”
“Sit the fuck down.” Adam laughed.
“Quite the little smut-mouth, isn’t he?” Knox winked and I smiled, scooting over to make room for Adam. Beer splashed on my legs when he pushed me forward.
“What are you doing?” I protested.
“Jesus, what the hell did you do to yourself?”
He was staring at my back. Oh yeah, that.
“I fell out of my chair.” I could almost hear the snare of a drum at the poor choice of words that sounded like a bad joke. My curtain closed and I took another swig of beer.
“Wanna kiss it and make it better, or can I sit back now?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Shit, all over his sofa. I turned around and saw the smear on the black leather. I cursed under my breath. Adam loved his leather and even hated the fact that I ate on it. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize. I’ll get something to clean it.”
“Fuck the sofa, woman—stay here.”
He disappeared in the bedroom and I watched Knox’s eyebrows slowly rise up as he polished off his beer. “Friends, huh?” He examined the last drops swirling at the bottom.
Knox shared my sense of humor, or sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and paced into the kitchen to retrieve a case of beer. I was glad Adam was here as a buffer, since I didn’t know what questions I could and couldn’t answer.
The beer disappeared from my hand when Adam set it on the cabinet and pressed a cold, wet cloth to my shoulder. “You’re a pocketful of trouble.”
I felt a sting and jumped. “You could eat off this floor, you should thank me.”
The second sting made me shut up.
“Tomorrow I’m going to show you how to build a shelf. Hold still, almost done.”
“Nice place you got here, brother,” Knox said as he strolled to the sunroom. “If you like woods and shit.”
I smiled as Adam pressed an adhesive patch on my shoulder. His fingers ran along the edges and I involuntarily shivered. Knox was beginning to grow on me, but Adam didn’t seem too thrilled he was here.
“All done.”
The mammoth was standing quietly in the sunroom with an unreadable expression that reflected on the glass. “Sorry to have barged in on Annie; I thought you would be here.”
“It’s Zoë,” I called out.
“Is that so?” he mumbled.
“Do me a favor and wait outside, I need to talk to him alone. It won’t be long.” Adam sounded upset. Now if that wasn’t the disappointment of the evening. I was really looking forward to getting tipsy and arm wrestling with our guest. But this was Adam’s turf and it was hardly my place to complain.
I snuck around the side of the house near the back door to listen in.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, your prints are all over that goddamn apartment. You’ve gotten sloppy, Razor.”
“What game are you playing?”
“Where’s the girl?” I heard Knox ask.
There was a short silence and Adam sounded off, “What the hell are you up to, Knox? Speak truth.”
“Her name came up in a database. I thought you were out but now I’m not so sure; this thing reeks. That isn’t Zoë Merrick, not from the pictures I’ve seen, but it’s too much of a coincidence you were at her complex. Quid pro quo, brother.”
“I don’t know how much I can tell you, Knox. I don’t know much myself.”
Adam’s voice cut off when my dumb ass stepped on a twig. The door creaked open and I strolled off into the yard, glaring at Adam, who was frowning. When the door shut I continued my pace, there was no point in trying to figure out what they were arguing about. But what piqued my interest was the fact that my name was in some kind of a database. I didn’t think to ask if Knox was still in the military—if that were the case it brought a whole new spin on things. I didn’t know a thing about the man who attacked me or what he might be a part of.
I had never felt more isolated. Not just because we were out in the middle of nowhere, but there was this emptiness I carried, a longing I couldn’t explain. Even the welcomed visit with Knox made that knot in my stomach even more pronounced.
The house vanished from sight, and I hugged the chill off my arms as I strolled down the trail.
That’s when it hit me. It was too quiet—I didn’t hear a single cricket chirping. Someone whispered, and while I couldn’t make out the words, it made my blood run cold. The sound wasn’t in my head, wasn’t part of the dreams, but it was right here, just beyond the thick of trees. Shaking like a leaf in winter, I strained to look at all the shadows in the deep woods that surrounded me. My breath thinned out into a sheet of frosty panic and I sucked in a sharp breath when a slow crunch of leaves sounded on my right.
A macabre laugh rolled through the darkness and wrapped itself around me like a vise.
It was him—I knew that laugh.
Without a moment to reason, Adam’s name poured from my lungs in a scream as I ran up the trail toward the house.
The back door crashed open and within seconds, Knox and Adam were eating up the distance between us in a desperate run. Knox looked more like a bull that couldn’t be stopped as he charged past me with his gun in hand. I flew into Adam’s arms, pulling him tight.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s out there, Adam,” I said, out of breath. I looked back and Knox was gone, but I could hear his heavy footsteps as he continued to move.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, please don’t let him—”
“Don’t worry, Knox will secure the area. Let’s get you inside.”
Chapter 9
Two days later, Adam was called on a photo shoot in Memphis. While he primarily freelanced, he had a friend who pimped him out for bigger jobs that paid more. There was no question about it—I was going with him. Not that it was an option, but I was anxious to get out of town and maybe have some fun.
We arrived late in the afternoon; our reservations were at a modest hotel, nothing fancy in the least. Adam had some prep work to do and because he was methodical about his job, I agreed to stay in and watch movies.
A lie.
The bandage was beginning to itch, so I went into the bathroom to peel it off and clean the wound.
“Let me,” he said, pulling the edges slowly. “You heal… remarkably well.” He wiped down my shoulder with a towel. “Doesn’t look like you need to tape it up again.” Adam slapped my skin three times and buried his back against the wall.
“I should be back before nine. They have room service, so order whatever you want.”
<
br /> I always shared a meal with Adam. “I’ll wait until you get back; we can order then. I’m not hungry right now.” I was too excited about the idea of having an afternoon to myself in a new city to think about food.
“Then I’ll bring back some Chinese. I know how you like those little sugar donuts.” He grabbed his keys with a single swipe and took off.
I felt a little guilty, I admit it. Adam left without a clue that I had intentions to explore the city like Columbus. My patience was also tried by the fact he kept watch of me like a babysitter. I was a girl who thrived on my independence.
We were right on the heels of fall, which was gracing us with cooler weather and chilly evenings. I changed into a long, sage-colored skirt, white blouse, and flats. I had stopped wearing perfume years ago, so I applied some peach-scented lotion and tucked a cheap digital camera in my purse.
My feet hit the pavement and the thick aroma of barbeque filled the air from a nearby barbeque pit. It was a short walk to the station and I made mental snapshots so that I wouldn’t get lost later.
“Is this where the trolley comes?” I asked a woman close to my age, also alone.
“Yes.” She gave me that “you must be from out of town” once-over.
Ten minutes later, I was all aboard, enjoying the view from the window. It was a short ride and I stepped onto a busy street with my camera in hand. After walking around and taking the usual tourist photographs, I started people watching. Adam said he connected to his humanity through a lens, yet strangely, I never felt more distant from it.
Time slipped by and before I knew it, the horizon drank in the last sip of light. I licked my dry lips and decided to duck into a bar for a beverage before heading back.
I was seated at a small wooden table by a large window trimmed in tiny yellow lights. Waving off the menu, I ordered a glass of sweet tea and the waitress smiled, turning her nose up. Women like her worked for tips and I had all the red flags of a cheap tipper. Couldn’t blame her, I always felt guilty ordering just a drink.
There was a flavor to the ambiance of the room. The glasses sparkled under the amber glow of track lighting behind the bar, and there was a small stage in the back for entertainment. On the downside, the walls were atrocious—license plates, old signs, photographs, a wagon wheel, and rusty pieces of metal. It was as if a junkyard exploded inside of a charming little pub.
A congregation of women lingered at the bar, fueled with laughter and flirtatious behavior. One lovely blonde stroked her silky hair, while another arched her back in a way that accentuated the curves behind her outdated jeans. A third was straddling a barstool in a way that made my lip turn up in repulsion. After a quick scan of the room, it dawned on me that every available woman in that establishment circled around something—someone—behaving like cats in heat.
I stretched my neck to see what the action was all about. My waitress flew out of the kitchen and cocked her hip to the side, setting my drink on the bar. What the holy hell is going on?
When a brunette stepped aside to grab her purse, I was able to see what the fuss was all about. It was a man, propped against the bar on his elbows, gazing at his concubines.
And what a man.
With an easy change of position, he shifted over to lean on one arm—a well-calculated move as it emphasized his toned biceps straining against the weight. A seductive smile drew their attention, and the swarm responded with eager giggles and hair tosses as they admired his assets. My waitress leaned over so that he could whisper in her ear.
When she turned to approach my table, she swung her hips like a pendulum. He narrowed his gaze and watched her like a predator.
No wonder the bees were busy; he was what Sunny would have called a primo. The grey form-fitting shirt was made of material so thin it looked like sheer frost on a windowpane—making every cut of his abs visible like a wearable washboard. Those thick arms beckoned to be stroked, but they were not as huge and obscene as the ones Knox displayed. Then again, no one was quite like Knox.
His legs, on the other hand, were a powerhouse. He had the upper thighs of a thoroughbred, which was something to be appreciated against his tall frame. His mouth lifted in a sexy sideways smirk as he admired her, and then those eyes fell on me.
While this man was built like a Navy SEAL, looks alone couldn’t have drawn such a crowd. His blood was pumping with one hundred percent pure sexuality and it oozed from his pores.
Women were gravitating toward him from all directions like a planetary orbit.
I always considered the biggest turnoff to be arrogance, and this man wore it as cologne. I shook my head and redirected my attention out the window.
“Here you go, honey. Anything else?”
“No, this is going to be it.”
She swirled around and disappeared.
The frosty glass dripped with condensation after taking the scenic route to my table. I pressed the cold glass against my cheek, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the delicious feel of it along my neck. The ice clinked and I sighed.
“Will you be drinking that or wearing it?”
Startled, I jumped. The icy tea splashed my neck, dribbling down my shirt. I looked at the new stain forming on my white blouse and frowned.
The latter, it seemed.
I arrowed a hostile glance in the direction of the voice sitting at a table next to mine.
It was him. The man who, only moments ago, was giving every woman in that bar an eye-orgasm. His body melted over the chair as he leaned back, legs stretched forward and crossed at the ankles. All the women at the bar were giving me a sour expression of jealousy.
“I did not intend to startle you,” he said as his eyes fell over the stain spreading on my collar.
“Waitress, seltzer please,” he ordered with a crook of his finger.
I set the glass down and lifted a napkin, blotting the liquid on my neck and arm.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“You aren’t from around here.”
I twisted my mouth, wondering how he had guessed. I had no recollection of waking up that morning and writing “tourist” on my forehead.
“The tea, it’s not a Long Island.” His laugh was as rich and deep as his baritone voice. He stretched back, giving the chair a good solid creak, but never removed his eyes from me. “Locals don’t come in here for the tea.”
The waitress zipped back around, handing him the seltzer, but he didn’t so much as look at the woman who, moments ago, had his utmost attention out of all the women in here. I didn’t think I was especially that attractive, so maybe I was nothing but a challenge. Perhaps his ego was shot when I didn’t swoon from his playful smile that made soccer moms give up their firstborn.
“Would you allow me?” he offered.
I considered the gesture as I sized him up to see if he could be the wrong kind of company. He was probably an inch shy of Adam, but there was an air of authority about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. Up close, I could see that his shaved hair was dark blond, and winding around his right bicep was an intimidating tribal tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his shirt. I had the strangest mental picture of him on a bloody battlefield, but as he stood at the edge of my table with a bottle of seltzer and a napkin delicately held between his fingers, I found nothing but honorable intentions.
He made a gesture toward my collar and I shrugged at the invitation. It was an oddly intimate position to be in when he suddenly went down on one knee and began to work on the stain. His large hands carefully dabbed at my white blouse while I tried to look elsewhere. Difficult to do when every inch of his body was hovering so close to mine.
I sniffed discreetly. Curious, no cologne. What kind of man goes out to pick up women without wearing any cologne? I reached for the tea and killed a little time rubbing off water droplets from the glass.
“You’re a quiet thing; do you come with a name?”
“Zoë.”
“Zoë.” He spoke m
y name in that deep voice, tasting the word on his tongue. “Not a very common name.”
“Not a very common girl,” I replied.
“Indeed.” He watched me with serious eyes.
I wondered what exactly he meant by that. Perhaps it wasn’t common for a girl to not fall at the feet of the Adonis. Heaven forbid. Ye gods.
He pressed his lips together and pulled back, studying his work. It wasn’t just the handsome features that drew you in—it was an intangible power. Even when he wasn’t looking at me, I found his gaze riveting. It was as if a handful of Caribbean sky was crushed into a million tiny shards and fashioned into polished glass to color his eyes. When his cobalt gaze rose to meet mine, I was the first one to break eye contact.
They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but I guess I never wanted any Peeping Toms looking in my windows.
“I think that should do?” He looked at me, seeking my approval.
Sure enough, the stain was gone, leaving only a patch of water. I was a little embarrassed when I could see how cheap the fabric looked up close. Fashion was nothing I had ever concerned myself over, but those were also the days when my clothes were not secondhand and off-brand. A few times I’d settled for a shirt that had a hole or rip in it. I refused to take money from Adam, and my ATM card only stretched so far before my account was closed.
“Thanks, but no big deal. It’s not expensive or anything.”
“But it’s yours,” he said.
His attire, on the other hand, was casual: dark denim jeans, a shirt, and combat boots. Yet, there was nothing casual about it. The jeans were a high-end brand, secured with an expensive leather belt. The shirt was a soft material that, up close, looked cut in all the right places, and the boots gleamed as if right off the shelf, and the laces were perfectly tied. He was a man who took pride in how he presented himself, even if he was dressed down. I bit my bottom lip as he remained in that position a few seconds longer than needed before standing up.
“Would you allow me to join you?”
Near the bar, one girl shot me a sour “rot in hell” look, while another whispered something in her ear. Both glanced back and they laughed in unison like a couple of jackals. Bitches. I twirled a finger in my hair as I decided to win the unspoken showdown.
