Vines (The Killers Book 1)

by Brynne Asher

  I don’t have to check my calendar, though. I know my schedule like the back of my hand.

  “Thursday? Say, three o’clock?” he offers.

  Looking at Crew, I speak into the phone. “I can move some things around, make that work.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, Addy,” Sheldon says before I offer him a speedy goodbye.

  The second I hang up my phone, Crew lowers his from his ear, and steps inside my office, slamming the door behind him. I’m surprised pictures don’t fall from the vibrating walls.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Addison?” he demands, towering over my desk.

  I try and defend myself. “I didn’t know it was him when I took the call.”

  “You could’ve hung up,” he seethes.

  “Crew—”

  He bends slightly at the waist when he interrupts me. “You agreed to meet him.”

  “I know, but—”

  “A man who’s been committing treason for years. A man you know nothing about because I can’t tell you. Even I don’t know all he’s done since I’m officially out of the loop.”

  “Please, let me—”

  “He’s dangerous, Addison.” Crew raises his voice and goes on to tell me something I already know. “And you’re meeting him for a fucking glass of wine.”

  I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. Strike three. I don’t interrupt others and certainly don’t appreciate being cut off. Continually.

  “What were you thinking?” he belts out.

  Saying nothing, I tip my head.

  “You were so fucking scared after he approached you at the White House, you were gonna make a run for it. Who knows where you’d be right now if I hadn’t stopped you. I don’t want him anywhere near you, this property, or mine. After what I told you last night, I hope you can understand the significance of that.”

  My face falls instantly from his last statement. But keeping on, he gives me no opening to speak.

  “And he could’ve had a hand in your father’s death. At the very least, he knew about it, making him an accessory. He had everything to do with framing your dad for shit he was doing, setting your mom on a path of hiding out for the rest of her life, dragging you along for the ride.” His next words rumble like thunder through my small office. “This is the man you’re gonna meet for a fucking glass of wine!”

  I don’t say anything, because Crew has lost it. This man, who I’ve never seen any other way than cool and controlled, even when he is sharp, has lost all control because of me, and that makes me feel terrible. I, of all people, know what it’s like to value your control. I can’t imagine he loses it often.

  When he finally quiets, I let that go on for a few moments, assuring he’s done.

  When it feels safe to speak, I start quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of him coming here and putting you and your…” I try and find the right word, “…organization, at risk.”

  His brows pull together when he asks, incredulously, “You’re sorry about me?”

  “Yes,” I answer honestly. “Look, his phone call was a surprise, and yes, I was scared and freaked the night he cornered me. I’ll even give it to you, I was scared enough to run that night. But you’ve given me information, and as awful as it is, it made me feel better to at least know something.”

  “I’m glad you feel better,” he spouts, but by the look on his face, he doesn’t look glad at all. “Why the fuck did you agree to meet with him?!”

  “Quit yelling at me, Crew, and I’ll explain.”

  “Addison, this is not me yelling.”

  My eyes widen and I lean my forearms on my desk, unable to keep the sarcasm from leaking out. “Then quit talking loudly at me. For the record, I’ve come to like the way you call me ‘Addison,’ but not in that tone of voice.”

  He stands up straight and crosses his arms over his grungy wife beater, saying nothing.

  I sigh before finally explaining. “I’ve no doubt he knew he scared me the other night, he probably meant to since he practically threatened me. But since you were obviously listening, I’m sure you could tell he was taken aback when I didn’t insist I’m not who I am. He admitted he knew my parents and what happened to my father. I want to know what he has to say. I wasn’t thinking about you or your privacy when I invited him here. I’ll reschedule and meet him in the city. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

  I can tell he’s shocked by what I’m saying because his frown deepens when he growls, “Have you forgotten what happened on the way home from the White House? There’s no way in hell you’re meeting him in the city.”

  “You have to understand.” I lean farther and soften my voice. “This is the first time in my life I have the chance to learn something about my dad from someone other than my mom. If he can give me anything—anything—I’ll take it. Even knowing who he is and what he’s done, I need that. I’ve never known anyone who knew my parents before my dad was killed.”

  “Addison,” he lowers his voice, but his isn’t soft. It’s still harsh and livid. “He won’t give you the truth. Why would he?”

  I bite my lip and sit back in my chair. I know he’ll probably feed me lies, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I’ve never had the opportunity to know anyone who knew us before. If he gives me a shred of anything, it’ll be worth it.

  “He might,” I whisper and Crew’s face instantly softens into something more of a frustrated acceptance. “He scared me in the beginning because he surprised me. Now that I know everything, I can think with a clear head. If I have the chance to talk to someone who knew us before my dad died, I’ll take it. It might seem crazy after what you told me, but that only makes me want it more. This may be my only chance if they finish their investigation soon.”

  He says nothing, but closes his eyes and drops his head.

  I go on, but cautiously. “And, um…for the first time since you told me about them, I’m sort of grateful for your cameras and surveillance. I didn’t think it would hurt, seeing as though I’ll be meeting with a CIA target.”

  He looks up at me and simply shakes his head.

  “And,” I pause, wondering how to ask him what I want. “I was sort of hoping you could be there with me?” I tip my head while scrunching up my face, worried about what he’ll say.

  “Addison,” he sighs, my name coming out resigned, even if a bit frustrated when he looks to the side. When his eyes find me again, he informs me of something I already know. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I know,” I admit.

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “When you’re dealing with someone like O’Rourke, you’re not just dealing with him. You’re dealing with a group of people you don’t even want to know exist, let alone become a blip on their radar.”

  “Oh.” I pause, because he has me there. “I did not know that.”

  He shakes his head. “I bet you’ve just pissed off a shit load of people at the CIA.”

  “I guess I should feel a little bit bad about that.” I give him a small shrug, because I don’t know anyone at the CIA and they really put my mom through the wringer years ago. I couldn’t care less about the CIA.

  He looks down at me, frustrated. “Come here.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you going to hug me?”

  He shakes his head and a hint of the dimple appears. “I’m gonna do somethin’.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what you’ve been doing, but you’re dirty and I can smell you from here.”

  “Addison,” he reiterates, the dimple getting bigger.

  “I need to help behind the bar—it’s a madhouse out there. I can’t get dirty,” I explain.

  “Baby, please.”

  I sigh and get up, walking around my desk as I warn, “Okay, but you cannot hug me.”

  When I get close, he reaches for me. He did listen and only reaches for my face, pulling me in for a long, and almost leisurely, kiss.


  He pulls away just enough to look in my eyes. “I’ll be there when you meet O’Rourke.”

  I give him a small smile. “Thank you. I thought you would.”

  “You’ll listen to what he has to say. Do not egg him on or ask him questions. I don’t want him to have any reason to become more interested in you. You’ll take whatever he wants to say and let him be on his way. You understand?”

  I bite my lip, not liking him being pushy, but try and appease him for now without agreeing. If I appease him, it’s not an official lie. “You are the resident bad guy specialist.”

  He sighs. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “I’m not usually. I’m usually kind of boring.”

  “It has not been a boring week, Addison.”

  “No,” I agree. “It hasn’t.”

  “I’ll be over later. Probably eight or nine. We’ve got two days to finish some things up.”

  My eyes go big and a shiver runs down my back thinking of the promises he made me in the shower this morning.

  “You’ve met Grady,” he keeps talking. “I need to introduce you to Asa. He’s trained a long time, but now he works for me.”

  I nod, looking forward to meeting the people he works with.

  He pulls me in one more time before letting me go with promises of seeing me tonight.

  We head to the tasting room together, him holding my hand in his filthy one. There, he kisses me goodbye in front of everyone before leaving to finish whatever dirty job he was doing before he rushed away, spying on my call.

  When I get behind the bar to wash my hands, Evan calls for me. “Addy?”

  I cringe, thinking he’s going to give me shit about Crew.

  Instead, he grins when he says, “You’ve got dirt on your face.”

  Well, shit. Of course I do.

  At least he didn’t hug me.

  Chapter 17 – The Ass-Kicking

  Addy –

  I don’t know why I feel weird doing this—but I feel weird doing this.

  I mean, Crew did say I was welcome at his house anytime. He said he’d be more than happy for me to see his property, what they’ve been working on for two months, and all the changes they’ve made. He told me if he’s not at the hardware store or making quick stops for food, he was there.

  Actually, his exact invitation sounded like this, “I’m an open book, you know it all. If you wanna come nose around it just means I get to see your beautiful face. All the better for me.”

  Six of one, half a dozen of the other, right?

  It’s Thursday and I’ve known him only two weeks—a life-changing, out-of-this-world, two weeks.

  His “recruits” arrived Tuesday morning and I guess they live there while training. He’s answered all my questions in the last few days, most of the time while we’re lying in bed after ravishing each other. Or more specifically, after he has me where he wants me, he winds me into a sexually induced slinky, practically making me beg for it.

  Then he ravishes me. Thanks to Crew and his creativity, I’m usually too spent to do any of my own ravishing.

  I never knew it could be so good, but with Crew, it is. It was against my every instinct in the beginning to “comply,” but letting Crew have his way with me has by far been the best I’ve ever had.

  Every. Single. Time.

  And I swear—it just keeps getting better.

  I have my meeting with Sheldon this afternoon. I’ve been antsy about it all day since Crew left me in the wee hours of the morning, to go do whatever it is he does. I’m not sure where my courage came from when Sheldon asked to meet with me, but it’s disintegrated into a pile of dust.

  Poof. Disappeared.

  I’ve been bustling around the tasting room all morning, a bundle of nerves, accomplishing nothing, and that’s not like me. So I went to the kitchen and threw together a quick lunch for Crew and me, deciding it was finally time to take him up on his offer and come to him. I need to take my mind off this afternoon, and I’ll get to see Crew midday, which hasn’t happened since he’s started training his people.

  I slowly drive around the bend where the trees open up into a clearing. His house is much smaller than mine, but mine is huge, especially with the Ordinary. I have no idea if he breaks for lunch, but everyone needs to eat eventually. I grab our lunches and head for his front door when something catches my eye.

  Looking to the side toward one of his barns, there’s a group of men standing at the entrance, the wide doors all the way open. Abandoning our food on his porch, I decide to investigate.

  I see Grady and another man that Crew introduced me to, Asa. They’re grouped with a couple of others I’ve not met, and they’re all dressed in workout gear.

  Grady turns quickly, sensing my approach. Only he doesn’t appear surprised to see me as a slow smile creeps across his face.

  Of course he’s not surprised, they seem to know everything. I’m sure he knew I was coming, what with all the cameras. I’m about to return his smile when noises from inside the barn distract me.

  And those sounds are body parts hitting other body parts with such force—I not only hear the impact, but also the result.

  Allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the barn, the smiling Grady steps aside, making room for me. There, I find Crew battling it out with another guy I don’t know, on what seems to be flooring similar to a boxing ring. Crew’s in a pair of loose athletic shorts with a fitted t-shirt, and running shoes.

  His opponent is maybe an inch or two shorter than Crew, but just as solid, and he’s younger, maybe by as much as a decade or more. His dark hair is clipped short, his searing blue eyes are fierce, but beautiful, and if I had a guess, I’d lay money down that he’s pissed the hell off about something.

  Crew is angled away, his back to me, as his competitor charges. I cringe, but Crew plants his right foot solid when the other guy takes a cut. Crew doesn’t miss it. He catches his forearm, yanking the guy toward him, jabbing his other hand in his chest, creating a pained, “Humph.”

  The guy rallies, not missing a beat. He comes back at Crew coolly, proving the hit did little or no damage. Trying again, he goes for Crew’s knees with a spinning kick.

  Crew jumps to avoid him, but when he turns, his eyes catch mine. My breath catches from seeing him in action, feeling it down to my toes.

  He’s exactly what I’ve come to expect over the short time we’ve known each other. He’s sharp, yet weirdly relaxed, as he battles it out on the mat. His moves aren’t exaggerated, but seem to exert the minimal amount of energy necessary to defend himself against his attacker.

  An attacker who’s not at all relaxed. He’s wired and angry, aggression seeping out of his pores.

  For the nanosecond Crew takes to look my way, his surprise in seeing me here makes me nervous. I probably shouldn’t have shown unannounced, but he said to come, so I came. Now I’m rethinking my visit, positive I’ve made a mistake.

  Surprising even me, a hand connects with Crew’s face. He must’ve sensed it, as he moves, deflecting the worst of the blow. I let out a little yelp, instinctively taking a step forward when he gets hit. Before he swings back into action, I see blood trickle from his upper lip. I’m about to take another step when a strong hand grasps my bicep, pulling me back. Before I know it, I’m tucked tight into a large frame with an arm around me. Looking up to my side, Grady, who’s still grinning and not at all worried about Crew bleeding, gives me a shake of his head.

  After he fends off another attack, Crew puts a good amount of space between them, assessing his next move. He does this again. Then again. It’s almost as if he’s humoring the guy.

  The whole time, I only have eyes for Crew. Watching him maneuver, how his body relaxes between actions, yet never taking his eyes off his task.

  Even I can tell Crew’s last jab was harder than the rest, and the other guy growls, “Mother fucker.”

  I was right. Up until now, Crew was strictly on the defense. The second t
he words slip through the guy’s lips, Crew moves.

  As in, moves.

  For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off his hands. Hands that have touched every part of my body. He’s comforted me with those hands. He’s aroused me, he’s gently yet firmly bound me, he’s washed me, and he’s woken me with his soft touch.

  However, right now he’s efficiently using those same hands, which have shown me nothing but tenderness, to kick the ever loving shit out of this guy. For some reason—which is completely foreign to me—this creates a surge of wetness between my legs.

  He’s fluid, quick, and sharp. His opponent is now on the defense and not doing it nearly as well as Crew did. He’s almost forced off the mat. When Crew does some fancy footwork, the guy finally crashes to the ground, face first.

  Crew, his breath barely accelerated, presses his running shoe into the guy’s shoulder blades. I don’t know how the guy would get up after all that—he doesn’t look to be faring too well. I can tell Crew gives him most of his weight, keeping him where he wants him.

  “You might’ve been a badass SEAL, Jarvis, but this isn’t SEAL training. Remember that. You’ve got a fuck-of-a-lot more to learn and challenging me on the third day was not the brightest idea,” Crew growls at the prone body beneath his foot. That body is breathing hard, rasping shallow breaths. Crew looks up at the other three I’ve not met and bites out, “Anyone else anxious to show us what you’ve got?”

  No one says a word, even though they’re all built and undoubtedly know what they’re doing. Still, no one jumps in the ring.

  Crew shifts away, leaving the guy on the ground and looks straight at Grady. “Get your fucking hands off her, then pick up where we left off.”

  I hear and feel Grady laugh, but he doesn’t listen right away. He gives me a squeeze before finally letting me go. Crew sends him a good glare as Asa tosses him a bottle of water and towel. He presses the towel to his lip, wiping the blood away before twisting the lid off the bottle. When his eyes come to me, they’re sharp as usual, but also contain something new.

  Uh-oh, he’s angry I’m here.

  Grabbing my hand at the same time he takes a swig of water, he pulls me out of the barn.