Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
Y.S.K.W. - Catch Your Breath
I don’t even remember the drive home. Somehow, I made it. I stare up at my house. The house I was so proud to buy. The house I desperately wanted my dad to be proud of me for. Just like I wanted him to be proud of me for being a cop.
I shake my head and go inside. Once in, Elli stares at me from inside his tank. Which is unusual for him. He usually naps in the afternoon.
“What’s the lizard's name?”
The voice is sudden and unexpected. I whirl, and there, sitting on my couch and looking bored, is Ronan Carter. Right after I register that, something slams into the back of my head.
Pain tears through me, and I stumble. A huge body is on me, wrestling for my holster. My holster . I jerk, fighting through the pain, trying to get a hand on my gun. The holster is only a level one, meaning it only needs one mechanism to get the gun out. Before I can stop it, the person behind me has pulled the gun out. I whirl on the person, but he points the gun in my face.
“Don’t move.”
I freeze. The person pointing a gun at me is Logan Sutton. I swallow harshly, my head ringing. I could grab the gun, but we’re so close that if he squeezes off a round, it’s definitely going in me. Logan’s wearing a backwards ball cap and a smirk. “Hey, freckles.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Chair.” Logan is looking at me, but Ronan moves with a grumble. He moves past me to the dining room. I look over my shoulder at the front door, debating making a run for it. I don’t like where this is going.
“Don’t run.” Logan watches me closely. “We’re just going to have a little chat.”
“Who–get out of my house!” My heart is racing, making it hard to drag a breath in. Seeing Logan in real life outside of his file makes it feel like he’s so much bigger and so much scarier.
Ronan drags a chair loudly through my dining room, then shoves it behind my knees. “Sit.”
I don’t want to, but I do. What other choice do I have? Then, Ronan’s hands are on me, yanking my arms back and zip-tying them to the back of the chair. When he’s done, he rounds the chair, eyeing me in that bored way of his. “Got anything that could stick me, poke me, hurt me in any way?”
My mouth drops open. That’s the thing I always ask people after I arrest them. Hearing it come from…a murderer is just wild. But I guess once a cop, always a cop. And once a murderer, always a murderer. I can’t wrap my mind around it.
Ronan just lifts an eyebrow. “Well?”
“No,” I manage to get the word out without stuttering. I do have a knife in my BDUs, but I’m not going to tell him that.
Ronan pats me down, thoroughly running his big hands all over my body, checking my waistline and pockets. When he gets to the pocket with the knife, I speak up.
“You guys-s-s are making a big mistake.”
Logan barely responds.
Ronan pauses right over the knife. He freezes, then looks up at me. I’m caught in his hazel eyes, and for a second, they look…alive. He gives me the tiniest wink, then keeps searching.
My mouth almost drops open again. Is he…letting me have it?
Ronan gets up and pats his hands. “All yours, boss.” Then he moves to my couch and falls down on it in a flop.
Logan just watches me.
I say the phrase over and over in my head, then ask, “What do you want?” I test the ties. They’re tight, and I can’t reach the knife. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“We know.” Logan squats before me, somehow still looking big and intimidating. Briefly, I notice the tattoos he has. They’re stunning, and his whole right forearm arm is a blackout sleeve.
“Just here to remind you who you belong to.” Logan flashes me a grin, and the only way it can be described is blinding. Both men are objectively handsome on paper, but in person? They’re both so fucking powerful.
Immediately, I feel my cheeks heat. I should not be noticing that. It has me all kinds of flustered, and suddenly, I realize they might see that. My heart races, and I blurt, “I’ll cal-l-l–” Suddenly, I’m stuck in horrified silence as they watch me struggle. I’m stuttering in front of people who threaten my life.
I don’t want to see the mockery in their eyes. The sneers. The fucking pity. So I look at the floor. I finally finish my sentence, “the station.”
There’s a snort, and then Logan says, “Why? To tell them you’re playing hooky while their murder case is unsolved?” He bends over closer to me, and I snap my gaze up to meet his. Only, there’s no mockery or pity there. Just a cold grin. “Or maybe you’ll tell them there was someone who died, and you didn’t report it?”
I swallow hard. I was going to tell them. I just…I was going to tell them.
Logan pats my knee, making me tense. “No, you’re not going to tell them anything. You belong to us now.”
There’s a dramatic sigh from the couch, and then Ronan pops up. “I want coffee. Do you have coffee?”
Both Logan and I blink. Ronan strides to the kitchen and starts shuffling around.
Logan looks back at me. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Ummm, hey.” Ronan pops his head around the wall. “Logan, coffee?”
Logan casts him a look I can’t decipher.
Ronan leaves again, and I hear him messing with the coffee maker.
Logan taps a finger on my knee. “Gonna have to answer me, Kota.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “My name’s-s-s Dakota . Get fucked.”
There’s a harrowing moment where I’m not sure if Logan’s going to punch me or not, but then he breaks into a grin. “Cool. The first thing we need is a place to crash.”
“What?” I can’t help the cry that comes out. What is actually going on right now? Why in the hell would they want to be here? A cop’s house? The very cop who’s working on their case. The cop who will slice their throats open the second I get my hands on my knife. Clearly, I made a mistake the first time by not doing that.
Logan is watching me with unnerving intensity. He grins at me. “Oh no, you can’t kill us. We aren’t trying to hurt you. We just want to…work with you.”
There’s a snort from the kitchen.
“You kill us, and you become one of us,” Logan says. “You want that?”
“You’re admitting you’re killers?” I glare at him. I wish I was recording this. Or had cameras inside.
“Do you think we are?” He’s grinning at me still.
Suddenly, Ronan’s blustering back in. “Brought you a coffee, Logan.”
Logan’s face changes, and he looks human for a second. He looks…touched.
And then Ronan moves the rim of the mug—my mug—in his mouth and starts spinning it. He spins it until he’s licked around the whole rim, then hands it to Logan. “Here you go, champ.”
The room fills with stifling energy, with both men locked in lethal stares with each other.
“Did you just…around the world with my coffee?” Logan asks slowly.
Ronan just gives him a deadpan look.
I swallow harshly. The energy is different between them than I’d expect from two people working together. It’s almost…it almost seems flirty .
Suddenly, Logan laughs, making me jump. “Fucking hell, Ronan.”
“What?” Ronan turns to me. “I want to know what the lizard’s name is.”
I blink, suddenly afraid to be the center of their attention again.
“He’s a b-b-b-b.” I swallow, but Ronan doesn’t change his expression. He just waits, expectantly, “bearded dragon.”
“Oookay.” Ronan draws the word out. “What’s his name ?”
“S-s-sir Ellington.” Fuck. All the stress is drawing out my stutter.
“Fuck yeah.” Ronan turns to the enclosure.
“See. I’m not the only one using dictionary words.” Logan says to Ronan, taking a pointed sip from the coffee.
Ronan moves back to the kitchen, coming back with his own mug. “That’s not a dictionary word. It’s a name.”
“But it’s old.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s a dictionary word.”
They both settle on my couch, drinking my coffee and bickering like old housewives. And all I can do is stare. Am I dreaming? Maybe I never went to work today. Maybe I’m making this whole thing up. Because in what world are two Greek gods sitting on my couch arguing about the dictionary like they didn’t break in, tie me up, and threaten me?
Fuck my life.