“Who is Chelle?” I ask. Whoever she is, she’s had a profound effect on these two men. Seeing their emotions gives me a new perspective on their lives. Although they’re intimidating, they also have feelings. My chest aches with empathy for their loss.
“Not now.” The hard line of Cash’s jaw serves as a warning to keep my mouth shut. He grips my elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”
The imminent threat of danger has ended, but my anxiety over Kyle returns. I haven’t seen him since his trial and conviction. The memory of what he did to me is fresh and raw. I touch the scar above my eyebrow, reliving the pain and horror of his fists. He’s here. In my world. Too close for comfort. I’ll never be safe from him.
“I need to visit the restroom,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm, shoving my anxiety deep into a shadowy corner of my soul.
Cash’s gaze narrows as he searches my face. “Five minutes. Hurry.”
I tug down the hem of my dress and scurry toward the hall. Inside the bathroom, I run cold water over my wrists, rest my hands on the edge of the sink, and stare into the mirror. This is a nightmare. I’m about ten minutes from losing my shit. My reflection shows a girl with troubled dark eyes and the pallor of fear beneath her skin. I grab a paper towel and dry my hands. “Suck it up, Jag. You can do this,” I mutter to myself.
“You still talk to yourself.” The familiar voice comes from the stall to my left.
My throat tightens, making it hard to swallow. I lift my eyes to see Kyle leaning against the stall door, watching me. Time screeches to a halt. The door is a few paces away. I run toward it, but he gets there before me and blocks my escape with an arm. I back up until I hit the sink. My gaze darts around the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon.
“I got an early release, thanks to Reaper. The Disciples of Rage are great friends to have.” His stare travels up and down the length of my body. Although he hasn’t touched me, the memory of his hands on me churns my stomach. “You look good, Jag.”
“You look terrible.” He’s lost weight. Acne scars pit his skin. He’s got a tribal tattoo on his neck, a teardrop below the corner of his eye, a naked woman on his forearm. On Cash, the artwork is sexy. Kyle’s ink is blurry and frightening. I grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles ache. “I have a restraining order.”
His laughter lifts the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck. “I belong to the DOR. Restraining orders don’t mean shit to me.”
With each word, he advances a step. As the gap closes between us, flashes of that fateful night replay through my head. The sensation of falling. Shards of pain. A boot in my ribs. The scream of an ambulance siren.
“Stay away from me.” I assume a defensive stance, fists in front of me, weight balanced to evade his attack. Although I haven’t practiced in a while, the basics of self-defense are burned into my brain.
“Is that any way to—” He never gets a chance to finish the sentence. The bathroom door flies open and bounces off the wall behind it. Cash rockets into the room, his movements blurred by speed. His hand closes around Kyle’s throat. He slams the smaller man against the nearest stall, breaking the door off its hinges.
“Go.” Cash jerks his head at me. “Gage is waiting outside.”
I don’t wait around. I sprint past the men and through the door. Gage grabs my arm, hustles me out the rear entrance, and into the waiting Escalade. My heart bangs against my ribs. I press a hand to my sternum to ease the pain. A few minutes later, Cash climbs into the vehicle, taps the headrest, and leans back against the seat.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks, turning his enigmatic gaze to me.
“Just a misunderstanding.” I lift my chin and meet his stare. The less he knows about my past, the better.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice is soft and intimate, meant for my ears alone. He reaches out to sweep my hair away from my face, dragging warm fingertips over my cheek and along my jaw, tipping my chin upward.
“No. I’m fine. He just scared me.” Despite my vow to remain stoic, my lips tremble. I don’t want to think what might have happened if Cash hadn’t interrupted Kyle.
“Are you sure?” The pad of his thumb slides over my bottom lip. His gaze locks onto my mouth, hangs there. “If anyone bothers you, I’ll take care of them. You’re with us now, and we protect our own. Understand?”
The sincerity of his statement arouses conflicting emotions—gratitude, desire, anxiety. He wraps an around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, adding to my confusion. The scent of his cologne teases my nose. I exhale and curl my fingers into the lapels of his jacket. He’s warm, safe, and strong. The hardness of his chest provides refuge when I haven’t felt safe in a very long time.
“Yes.” I nod and blink up at him. Without warning, his lips are on mine. Firm yet soft, tender but strong. I melt into his kiss, instinctively moving closer. Too soon, he pulls away, clearing his throat like he’s remembering who we are to each other. I shake my head. “You threaten my life but offer to protect me? You’re making me crazy.”
A rare smile turns up his mouth. He taps my nose with a fingertip. “Back atcha, little girl.”
“Can I please go home now?” I’m exhausted. I want to go home, crawl into my bed, and rehash the craziness of this night.
“Not yet. We still need to figure out how you’re going to repay me for Mr. Spillman.” He ends the conversation by turning his face toward the window.
Thirty minutes later, we pull into the circular drive of an elegant, modern mansion, and I’m herded through tall, glass doors into the foyer. Cash tosses his keys onto a table. I flinch at the crash of metal on metal. The men disperse throughout the house, leaving us alone.
Everything is blindingly white—the furnishings, the walls, the floors. In front of me are three stories of windows that overlook a lake. Cash jogs down five steps into the living room. I stand alone in the center of the white marble floor, unable to move. Too terrified to run. He turns around and motions for me to follow. “Come on.”
I trail along behind him, up a sweeping staircase to the third floor. He swings open the doors into a massive master suite. With the flick of a remote control, the gas logs in the fireplace leap to life. He sinks into the sofa, stretches an arm along the back, and rests an ankle on the opposite knee. His dark clothing and tattoos contrast with the pristine simplicity of the house. I can think of only one reason why he’s brought me here, and the notion both thrills and terrifies me.
“Whose house is this?” I halt in the middle of the room, between the bed and the sofa, and wrap my arms around my waist.
“Mine.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Surprised?”
“I am.” In my imagination, he lived in a dingy apartment with smoke-stained walls and worn furnishings. Not a palatial estate in the swankiest location in Indiana. Everything about this man contradicts or exceeds my expectations.
“Yeah, well, just ’cause I look like a thug, don’t mean I live like one.” As he speaks, he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls them up, exposing his lean forearms and the ink covering them.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I just—I thought you lived in Chicago.”
“I do, but I’m looking to expand my business, and I needed somewhere to crash while I’m here.” He twirls a finger through the air. “You know, diversification and all that.”
We fall silent. He studies me, seemingly comfortable with the quiet. Unable to withstand his scrutiny, I walk over to the window. This has to be Geist Lake, home to the ultra-rich. One seamless pane of glass provides a panoramic view of the water. Several terraces hold a swimming pool, jacuzzi, and firepit. At the bottom of the landscaped lawn, recessed lights illuminate a boathouse and dock. Several more expensive homes edge the opposite shore. All of them magnificent. All of them lit up like national monuments.
On the table next to the window sits a sculpted butterfly. It’s an amalgamation of stained glass, porcelain, and gold leaf. An odd item for a masculine man like Cash to have i
n his bedroom. I pick it up. I’ve dealt with original crafts long enough to recognize the artist’s eye for detail. At the base, the black-and-white portrait of a dark-eyed girl smiles up at me. “This is amazing. Who made it?”
“Chelle.” Cash’s voice cracks. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” His breath puffs against the back of my neck. I had no idea he had left the couch. For such a tall man, he moves with the stealth of a cat. I’m reminded of the way he sprinted into the bathroom and collared Kyle. Quiet. Without warning. Predatory. My nerves are soothed by a wave of desire.
“Yes.” My body sizzles at his nearness. “She’s very talented.”
He removes the sculpture from my hands and returns it to the table. “How do you like the view?” The blatant change of topic persuades me to set aside my curiosity for another day.
“It’s lovely. But I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to admire your home.”
“You know why you’re here.” He blows softly on my nape. The tips of my breasts sting with arousal.
“I’m sorry about tonight. About your flash drive.” Having him so near does crazy things to my insides. A war rages between my head and my body. Maybe I can play on his attraction to buy some time. I only need a few minutes to find the nearest exit then I can call Em to pick me up. Except he still has my phone. Crap.
“Yeah, shame about that.” His heavy sigh tickles my earlobe. “By my calculations, you now owe me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“I’ll never be able to pay you back when you keep adding to the debt.”
“Plus interest. Let’s say twenty-five percent.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Nothing about this world is.” The deep growl of his voice reverberates throughout my body. He hasn’t touched me, but I can feel him everywhere. In my head, in my breasts, between my legs. Without warning, he retreats to the sofa. He spreads his arms wide across the backrest. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Haven’t we been down this road before?” I snap. “I have nothing. You’re wasting your time with me.”
His broad chest lifts and falls with a heavy breath. He drums his fingers on the back of the sofa. “That bracelet you’re wearing. Those are diamonds, right? And the earrings?”
“I—I borrowed them from work.” I’d hoped to use them as part of my showcase at the trade show. The purchase of the stones had taken a large chunk of capital from the store’s account.
“They’ll do for starters. Give them to me.”
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not again. The stern clench of his jaw reminds me of the danger in crossing him. Slowly, I remove the earrings and unclasp the bracelet. He extends a hand, waiting for me to give them over. My fingertips brush his palm, sending tingles up my arms. My mind and body are at war over this man. Is he a protector? A lover? My enemy?
“Very nice. Did you make these, too?”
“Yes.” Animosity rages in my tone. Self-entitled bastard. At the same time, I’m thrilled by his praise.
“And what do you think they’re worth?” He dangles the bracelet from a fingertip. The jewels glitter seductively in the soft light of his bedroom.
“The bracelet is worth five thousand and the earrings about two.”
“Great.” He shoves them into his pants pocket, ignoring my protests. “What about the dress?”
“What about it?” I smooth my hands over the silky blue fabric.
“It looks great on you.”
“Thanks.”
“Take it off.” At the drop of my jaw, he chuckles. The dirty bastard enjoys making me uncomfortable. “It must be worth four or five grand, right?”
“Maybe.” The intensity of his gaze stirs more confusion into the evening. I don’t want to like the way his pupils darken when he looks at my mouth. My response is crazy, yet I crave more. More praise. More danger. “I’m pretty sure it’s too small for you.”
His laughter booms through the room. “Oh, man, you’re something else.” The smile slips from his handsome face. He twirls a finger in the air. “Take it off. Don’t make me ask again.”
Part of me wants to challenge his authority. I weigh the consequences of rebellion. What’s the worst he could do? The sinister twist of his lips suggests I don’t want to know. However threatening his gaze, I’m not afraid. I lift my chin. “And what if I don’t?”
“I’ll take it off for you.” When I don’t budge, his eyes narrow. “Or I could bring your friend here. What was her name? Emeline? I’m sure Gage could keep her busy for a few hours.” The thought of Em knowing about my stupidity is worse than whatever Cash has in mind. To underscore his threat, he withdraws my phone from his pocket. “What’s your passcode?” I bite my lower lip. “No? That’s okay. I already know it.” He unlocks the phone and holds it up so that I can see the display.
“If I do this, can I go home?” I long for the safety and security of my cozy cottage.
“You can go home, but not tonight.” He taps out a quick text, reading the words aloud in time with the dexterous movements of his fingers. “Hey, Em. All good. Spending the night. See you tomorrow,” then hits send. He tosses the phone onto the cushion at his side. “Now, let’s get to business. You and me need some time to work out the terms of our new arrangement.”
“You’re evil,” I whisper.
“That and a whole lot worse.” My insult seems to please him. “So what’s it going to be, Jagger?”
“Fine.” I reach over my shoulder for the zipper, but the tab hovers out of reach. “A little help would be nice.”
I can tell by the twist of his lips that he’s not thrilled about the idea. The heels of my shoes wobble as I walk over to him and stand between his spread knees. He places both palms on his thighs, stares up at me, then stands. I lift my hair and turn my back to him. He brushes a few stray locks from my neck. The glide of his fingers over my skin starts a chain reaction inside my body. A wave of heat. A jolt of electricity. Dampness between my thighs. The zipper growls as he drags it down the length of the dress. One fingertip traces the groove of my spine and halts at the top of my panties. The touch seems to last forever. With each inch, I can’t help considering how his fingers might feel on the rest of my body, on my breasts, inside my pussy. I know it’s insane, but I’m attracted to his power and confidence. The tenderness in his touch hints to a gentler side. I want to learn more about him. He fascinates me in a way no man ever has before.
When I turn to face him, his pupils overtake the color of his irises. I slip the dress from my shoulders. The filmy material lands in a puddle at my feet. His enigmatic gaze crawls down the length of my torso, over my bra and the tiny triangle of fabric covering my sex. Less than six inches separates his chest from mine. One deep breath will bring my taut nipples into contact with his solid pectorals. He retreats, shoving a hand through his hair.
“Pick it up.” The gravel in his voice suggests my nakedness affects him. I bend over, giving him an eyeful of my backside, then drape the dress over the arm of the couch. In response, he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it on the nearest chair. Lord have mercy, he’s a spectacle of rippling abs and ink. I bobble on my stilettos. To keep my balance, I place a hand on the nearest chair.
My voice cracks as I ask, “Are we going to have sex?” Please let the answer be yes. Maybe then I can get rid of this ache between my thighs and knock down a little of the debt at the same time. I know it’s wrong to trade my body, but banging him will be more of a pleasure than a duty.
“I haven’t heard you beg for it yet.” Humor adds a lilt to his statement. His strong fingers go to his belt, unfasten the buckle, then lower the zipper of his fly. He steps out his pants, folds them neatly, and lays them next to the shirt. Black boxer briefs hug his narrow hips and highlight an impressive erection. He’s big. Big enough to make my throat close up. Finding enough oxygen to fill my lungs becomes a struggle. One corner of his mouth twitches in a lopsided smirk. “Then again, I’m just getting started.”
Nine
Jagger
In the morning, I try to sneak into the house without Emeline seeing me. I go in the kitchen entrance, shoes in hand, and tiptoe down the hall toward my bedroom. Two steps from the door, my progress comes to a halt when she steps out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, freshly showered. Her gaze sweeps over my clothing—or lack of—before meeting my eyes.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone light and airy as I breeze past her, ducking my head to let my hair hide my face.
“Jagger.” Her footsteps follow me into my room. “Where are your clothes?”
“Um, I spilled something on my dress, so Cash gave me a shirt to wear.” As soon as the lie passes my lips, the guilt is overwhelming. I hate lying to her. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to grab a quick shower and I’ll meet you at the store.”
“Yes, I mind. What happened? I was worried sick.” From beneath the screen of my hair, I catch a glimpse of her expression. The reproach on her face almost brings me to tears. I can’t keep up this charade for long. “A guy drops you off in his dress shirt and no panties, and you’re acting like it’s nothing. I need details.”
“Look, I promise to tell you everything, but right now, I need a hot shower.”
Her heavy sigh fills the silence. “Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that. Clean up and then I want the whole story. All of it,” she adds, sternly.
“Promise.” I grab my robe from the hook in my bedroom then step into the bathroom, close the door between us, and lean back against the cool wood, relieved to be alone for the first time since Cash picked me up last night.
In front of the mirror, I unbutton the shirt, pausing to draw in the scent of his cologne still clinging to the linen.
“Hey, Jag. I left my phone in there. I’m just gonna grab—”
Before I can stop her, Em opens the door. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a big deal. We’ve lived together for a long time. This morning, however, I’m mortified. I grab a towel and try to cover myself, but not before she gets an eyeful of my naked body.
Absolute Power (Absolute Power Duet Book 1) Page 7
