His Wrath: Underground, 2

by Jenika Snow

  Adrian did care for her, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him or make him worry needlessly. That little thought made her realize she was going to do just that eventually. She knew she couldn’t stay in this town, but what she’d come to realize was that she could be happy, could have a life with him.

  She could tell him her plans, and everything would be okay. Her time with Adrian had proved as much. So she’d tell him all of this, her fears and worries, the fact she’d have to leave … that she wanted him to come with her.

  Finger curved around the trigger, she closed one eye and kept her arm steady.

  Right through the center of the forehead.

  When her barrel was empty, she brought her target forward, the paper sliding on the mechanical track. When it was right in front of her, she set her pistol down and removed her glasses. Five bullet holes were centered in the chest and the sixth was right between the eyes. A satisfied grin had her lips curling up. This always made her feel better, even if everything else in her life was fucked up beyond repair.

  She packed her stuff up and made her way toward her car. Some of her tension was gone from shooting, but there was always that sliver that hung on, refusing to let go. Keys in hand because she never walked to her car without the teeth of each one between her fingers, she scanned the parking lot. Every move she made had her watching over her shoulder, making sure she wasn’t being watched, followed. Maybe it was habit, but she liked to think of it as survival.

  The parking lot was pretty much deserted given the fact it was early in the morning on a weekday, but she was always cautious. A black car was parked several spaces down from her, and although it wasn’t something that should have set off warning bells, it did. The windows were tinted, even the windshield, illegally so. The sound of the engine was rough, like a wild animal growling. She couldn’t see the driver, but she had the eerie feeling that whoever was behind that wheel was staring right at her.

  When another car pulled into the spot right next to hers, a beast of a truck that blocked her view, she quickly climbed into her car. When she was on the main road, she glanced in her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding left her when she realized the dark car was still parked in the lot.

  She had a lot of things to figure out, a lot of demons to extinguish. But first she’d talk to Adrian, tell him all of it … ask him to leave with her.

  The following day

  Adrian nursed a beer and stared at the wall behind the bar that housed the bottles of liquor that would make sure everyone at tonight’s fight would be good and liquored up. She’d been avoiding him for the last few days, and he was getting antsy as fuck over it. Something was wrong, but maybe she just needed space? Pushing her could send her in the other direction despite the fact they were making progress, growing closer.

  He took another long pull from his beer and dropped his head, tracing the worn lines on the top of the bar with his gaze and trying to figure out what he was going to do to.

  The feel of his phone vibrating in his pocket had him grabbing it and thanking small miracles that it was Brea.

  “Thank fuck,” he muttered right before answered the call. “Brea. Damn, baby. I’m going crazy over here.” A beat of silence passed.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about going radio silent on you. I was thinking and dealing with shit, but I shouldn’t have locked you out like that. It wasn’t right.”

  “Can we talk later tonight?”

  “Of course.” Anxiety grew inside of him, and he felt every one of his systems reacting to the rush of adrenaline.

  “There are some things we should talk about, that I need to be honest with you about.” She sounded forlorn. “And I want to be honest with you. It’s why I’ve backed off these few days. I needed to clear my head.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He heard her exhale and wished he was there with her. “How about I come to your place? I’ll bring dinner.” Shit, hearing her voice was like a drug to him, having the synapses in his brain firing off, needing more, craving it.

  “Okay, that sounds good, perfect in fact.”

  He felt himself relax at the relieved sound in her voice.

  “I’ll see you then,” she said softly, sweetly.

  “I love you, Brea.” Yeah, he was done pretending like he could hold his emotions in check where she was concerned. He’d tell her every damn day he loved her, make sure she knew how cared about she really was.

  “I love you, too.”

  His heart did a little jump in his chest at the sound of her saying that. Shit, that would never get old. They hung up, and Adrian downed the rest of his beer and stood. Heart pounding at the mere thought of seeing Brea, he couldn’t help the smile that covered his face.

  There was nothing better in this world than the love of a woman, and Adrian had that tenfold, felt it.

  He wasn’t going to fuck this up. He was going to make sure Brea knew exactly what he’d do for her, the lengths he’d go. She feared her ex, was afraid he’d find her. Hell, Adrian had the same worries. Tonight he’d put it all on the table, ask her to go with him, leave this fucking town, everything and everyone. They could set up roots somewhere else, just the two of them, together.

  She’d never have to be afraid again. And if that motherfucker found them, well … Adrian would make sure he was nothing but a broken pile of bones at his feet. Anyone who hurt Brea, threatened her, frightened her, would deal with him. And a man protective of the woman he loved was pretty fucking dangerous.

  20

  The following day

  They’d talk tonight. That scared the shit out of Brea, but there was also this closure she felt, this peace at the knowledge she’d finally be honest with him. Although she didn’t have nearly enough saved up like she’d planned, she had a nice nest egg that would get her far enough away that she could put even more distance between her and her past.

  After pulling into her driveway, she let the car idle for a minute, trying to clear her thoughts but failing miserably. Grabbing her purse and cutting off the engine, she opened the driver’s side door and climbed out. The wind picked up, moving strands of her hair over her face. The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nose, the smell of summer strong.

  Although she had no real roots here, she had made friends with Kash and Tristan. She’d have to tell them goodbye, explain as much as she could but still keep them safe. Brea might not be able to be fully honest with them, but it was only because she cared about them, because she didn’t want her baggage tossed in their direction.

  The street was quiet, but the sound of an approaching car had her looking over her shoulder. Coming down the street was a dark car. The closer it got, the more familiar it looked.

  Illegally tinted windows and windshield.

  The same car that had been at the shooting range.

  Her heart dropped into her belly, and her mouth instantly went dry. It drove slowly, far too slow to appear normal.

  The car or the house?

  She asked that question over and over again, wasting time, needing to put her plan into motion to get out of this.

  Her throat tightened, and she faced forward, making her way toward her front door at a brisk pace. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t Cameron.

  And maybe it’s evil reincarnate right outside your door.

  Keys in hand, she tried to unlock the door, but her fingers were so shaky it made the task nearly impossible. A look over her shoulder now showed the car parked right in front of her house. And then the driver’s side door opened and he stepped out … the very devil himself.

  Calm. Relax. Concentrate.

  Looked like the house was the safest, closest thing for her to get to.

  Calm.

  Relax.

  Concentrate.

  She told herself that over and over again as she slid the key into the lock and disengaged it. She needed inside, needed to get to her gun, set the alarm off �
� make a plan to escape. It was smarter heading inside where the alarm could go off and alert the police. She had a chance that way instead of getting in her car.

  The sound of the door unlocking had her heart beating faster. Once inside the alarm started going off like crazy, the beeping noise earsplitting. She let it go off as she shut and locked the door.

  Brea immediately dropped to her knees and grabbed her duffel bag from under the bench.

  Her gun should have been on the top of her clothes, loaded, locked and ready. She grabbed the zipper, her fingers sweaty, the metal cool in her grasp. But as she opened the bag, dug around frantically, the realization hit her like a brick to the face.

  No gun.

  Sweat covered her temple and slid down the valley between her breasts. Before she could stand, three hard raps sounded on her door. Everything stopped around her as she stared at the only thing separating her and Cameron.

  The sound of her heart beating fast and hard filled her ears. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and it was then that she realized she was biting her lip hard enough to break the skin.

  Everything else faded; the sound of the alarm, her heart, her nerves.

  The feel of perspiration sliding between her breasts was a distraction, but she didn’t have time to let her fear seize her. She dumped her purse out, the contents scattering everywhere. Her hands shook as she moved the items around, searching desperately for her phone, for her pepper spray, for anything she could use as a weapon.

  Everything went in slow motion. She needed to get another weapon, a big butcher knife, something to protect herself.

  She grabbed her phone, found the spray, and started dialing.

  Nine.

  One.

  One.

  Before she could hit send, before she could run into the kitchen for that knife, there was a loud crash behind her. She screamed just as pain exploded in the back of her head.

  And then she was helpless as the darkness took over.

  21

  A haze of disorientation covered Brea like a warm blanket. She could feel wetness on her face, and it took her a moment to realize it was tears. She’d been crying? Something covered her mouth. Tape? The lights seemed too bright as she opened her eyes. Pain pounded in the back of her skull and she tried to lift her hand to the source, but the realization that they were bound behind her had panic and fear taking root.

  Everything was a blurred mass of shapes and colors, and when her vision cleared, she saw she was in her living room. The confusion was a fog, a thick presence that had her closing her eyes and moaning, not remembering what had happened, just that reality nagged at the back of her mind.

  “Ah, finally awake.”

  That voice. Evil. Saccharine and causing her stomach to clench in distaste.

  “Don’t struggle, love. You know that’ll only make the knots tighter.”

  Oh God. No.

  A choked sob left her, and she cried harder. How had this happened? She’d taken great care to make sure she wasn’t put in this situation again.

  The alarm.

  The name change.

  Moving.

  The gun.

  All of it was for nothing because in the end he’d still found her, still had her at his mercy.

  There was silence. The alarm wasn’t going off anymore, and she felt her panic rise.

  “Yeah, disengaged that, sweetness. No need to have the authorities coming here and ruining what we have.”

  She felt her heart lurch in her chest. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d turned off the alarm, that the cops wouldn’t be coming. This was Cameron, after all.

  “It’s easy enough figure out your routine, your codes, when I have someone keeping an eye on you.”

  Her stomach cramped, her heart racing.

  “I have to admit, you had me running for quite some time.” His warm breath teased her ear at the same time she felt his hands settle on her shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you I’d find you? Didn’t I tell you there was nowhere you would be able to hide from me?” he whispered and then dragged his tongue along the side of her neck.

  Brea closed her eyes and cried out, but the sound was muffled.

  “You know”—he kept one hand on her shoulder as he moved in front of her—“I could have forgiven the fact that you ran from me, Brea, but when I realized you’d found someone to keep you warm at night?”

  She wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how frightened she really was.

  “Look at me.” The sound of his voice, a roar in these small confines, had her immediately obeying. “Ah, that’s my girl. You were always such a good and docile little bitch.”

  Cameron hadn’t changed. In fact, this time away from him showed Brea how savage he truly was.

  He was about to do horrendous things to her, wearing a light-blue Oxford, dockers, and loafers, yet he looked like a fucking advertisement for Better Homes and Gardens.

  He took a step back and made another tsking sound, as if he was highly disappointed in her. Then he started rolling his sleeves up his forearms.

  “If you would have just stayed, Brea, we could have worked it out. I want you, still do.” When his sleeves were rolled up, he started undoing several of the buttons of his shirt. “Did you know you were letting a would-be murderer fuck you, Brea?”

  Cameron was the master of all manipulators. It didn’t matter, because whatever Cameron said would never change how she felt for Adrian. Tears started to slip down her cheeks. They weren’t of pain though. They were from her anger, her hatred.

  “You know how much your tears make me hard, love.” He grinned. “We’re going to make up for lost time.”

  ****

  The scent of takeout filled Adrian’s truck. He didn’t know how tonight would go, but he had to be honest with her. He had to tell Brea that things could be perfect with them, that she didn’t have to worry anymore.

  So here he sat, staring at her house, trying to come up with what to say, how to make this go smoothly where he didn’t come off as overbearing.

  The sun had already set, so he could easily see that her living room light was on.

  He loved her, needed her, and he’d do anything to keep her in his life. Those few days where she’d gone distant had been his wake-up call. She was like a scared rabbit, ready to bounce if startled. He couldn’t blame her. Maybe he was coming on too strong? Maybe he needed to take two steps back and let her assess their relationship?

  What he couldn’t do was let her walk away from what they had.

  It was real. It was what they both needed.

  He hung his head and closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. Shit, this probably didn’t need to be as hard as he was making it out to be.

  The sound of a car door shutting pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked to his right. The man who got out of the dark car looked like he belonged in this part of the city. He was rough in appearance, with greasy hair and crease-covered clothes. His shirt was partially untucked, and a cigarette hung from his lips.

  He hated that Brea lived here. Adrian fucking hated that she was so scared, that he couldn’t make her see that he’d never let anything or anyone hurt her again. He’d die before he let that happen.

  He expected the guy to go into one of the other run-down houses in the neighborhood, but when he started making his way up to Brea’s front door, everything inside of him went tight.

  Was that Cameron?

  The man in question held a large black duffel bag, and when he banged on the front door, Adrian immediately climbed out of his truck and stalked toward him. Just as he made his way to the driveway, the front door opened and the guy went inside. Adrian hadn’t seen Brea when the door opened, but the thought that she’d let some dirty fucker inside had his blood racing.

  How did she know him? Was it someone from her past?

  Before he could find out the answer to those questions, the guy was coming out of the house again. He stopped wh
en he saw Adrian, this panicked look covering his face. There was recognition on the fucker’s face. He’d seen Adrian before? The asshole glanced between the house and back at Adrian before hauling ass to his piece-of-shit car.

  Adrian felt his heart race as he went after him.

  Something wasn’t right, but he’d sure as fuck get to the bottom of it.

  22

  “I have to say,” Cameron said as he wiped his face off with a rag, his grin satisfied. “You’ve gotten stronger since our time apart.”

  Wrists achingly sore from straining against her bonds, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe a savior would come. She had to get out of this on her own.

  He’d since taken the gag out of her mouth, but this time she refused to give him the satisfaction of pleading for mercy. Never again.

  “Hearing you scream my name will be my number-one priority.”

  Blood had gotten on his shirt, and he’d taken it off. He was bigger than what she remembered, more muscular … powerful. And God, he’d been strong back in the day, sickeningly so.

  Cameron’s enigmatic personality and good looks were what had snagged her from the beginning, but there was so much evil underneath that facade. A psychopath.

  “When we get back home, I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her words were distorted from the swelling in her jaw, but he heard her all the same. She might have only had a few months of peace while being away from him, but that time had hardened a piece of her. Sure, the fear had always been there, but now that she was confronted with Cameron after all this time, she saw a difference inside herself.

  She was not his weak, docile little punching bag any longer. She would never be that way again.