Chapter 15
The smellof slightly burnt toast wafts into the bedroom, dragging me from my slumber.
It’s been five days since Xavier and I got here to the safe house. I’m bored, irritable, and horny as hell.
There’s nothing to do all day but play cards and stare at Xavier while I let my mind and body remember that incredible kiss.
He hasn’t said two words about it since, nor has he come close to me again. He keeps his distance and when I try to step close to him, he walks away.
We sit at opposite ends of the couch or across from each other at the dining table, but my hopes of repeating that kiss were snuffed out the second we broke apart to get air into our lungs.
Stretching, I get out of bed and follow the smell of food cooking. I stop in my tracks when my gaze lands on a shirtless Xavier cooking.
His back is to me, so I use this opportunity to let my gaze slowly take its fill of his corded muscles.
My gaze moves down his back to his firm ass.
His sweat pants hang dangerously low on his hips. I lick my lips as I remember how hard he was pressed against me.
“I was just about to-” His words cut off as he spins around. His heated gaze meets mine before dipping lower to my lips.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down gently. His eyes darken as he watches my every movement.
Wanting to see how far I can push things, I bring my finger up to trail along my lower lip as I release it from between my teeth.
Trailing my hand down my neck, I pause as the tips of my fingers disappear under the V-neck shirt and rest on my cleavage.
His breath hitches ever so slightly, but enough for me to know that he feels this sexual tension, too.
No matter how much we fight it, we both feel it.
The oven timer goes off, interrupting our moment. He turns around, grabs a pot holder, and pulls a pan of bacon out of the oven.
Without glancing back at me, he says, “I hope eggs, bacon, and toast are alright for breakfast.”
I peek around him to see a large frying pan full of cheesy scrambled eggs and a plate piled high with toast.
“Are you trying to feed an entire village?”
He glances at the food before turning his attention to me. “No, why?”
“This is enough food to feed a village.”
He glances back at the food sitting on the stove. “It’s only enough to feed both of us.”
I point to the frying pan of eggs. “That looks like a dozen eggs.”
“It’s only six eggs.”
“And six pieces of toast.” I point to the plate of toast.
“Yeah, and?”
“That’s a lot.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s only one piece of toast per egg.”
“And an entire pan of bacon.” I add.
“One pound of bacon, and we don’t have to eat all the bacon. I was planning to use the extra for BLTs later for lunch.”
My stomach growls at the mention of my favorite sandwich.
He grins and glances down at my stomach. “I’m assuming you like BLTs?”
“I love them. They are my favorite.”
He scrunches his face up in confusion. “I thought you said tacos were your favorite?”
“Tacos are my favorite food, but BLTs are my favorite sandwich.”
He stares at me for several moments before turning back to the food. “After we eat, I need to show you something.”
What does he have to show me?
Is it something on his laptop?
On his phone?
The house?
Property?
I search his face for clues but come up empty. His expression is blank, like he’s a trained poker player.
Or an assassin.
That thought brings a small smile to my face.
As crazy as I think his life is or has been, I don’t think he is an assassin. He has comforted me many times. He’s wrapped me up in his arms like a cocoon, sheltering me from the crazy world around me.
No, he’s definitely not an assassin.
“What is it?” I finally ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
“Eat first.” He demands, leaving no room for discussion in his tone.
We make our plates and sit down at the table.
It’s silent, almost too quiet. It makes the time drag on.
After a few bites, he breaks the silence and asks, “So, how did you go from Scarlett Island to a profiler for the FBI?”
For a moment, I freeze before remembering I told him a little about my past a couple of days ago.
“I wanted to get away from the island for college, so I went to George Washington University and, after graduating, I moved into a tiny apartment in DC. I gave every recruiter I met my resume and was contacted by someone in the FBI about becoming a profiler.”
His eyes widen. “Impressive.”
“I did the six-month training and worked there for two years, but I hated almost every minute of my life. I was given the worst cases that always seemed to follow me home.”
They were all serial killers, but the longer I worked there, the more twisted the crimes were.
I didn’t feel safe. I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly sick.
Just thinking about my time working for the FBI turns my stomach.
Xavier seems to see the change in me because he changes the subject. “If you could vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
“What?”
“I said, if you could vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
My head feels foggy, like I can’t focus on my thoughts. “I don’t know. Where would you go on vacation?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles and says, “Home.”
I frown. “That’s not a vacation.”
He shrugs. “It’s a staycation. After being gone for so long, staying home sounds great.”
I couldn’t stand him before, but the more we talk, the more I find out about him, the more I’m eager to continue getting to know him.
He interrupts my thoughts. “So? What’s your answer?”
“I would love to spend a month in Europe. Visit all the touristy sights in London, Rome, and Greece before spending a romantic weekend in Paris gazing at the Eiffel tower.”
“That’s a lot of traveling for a month.” His shocked expression morphs into something I’ve never seen.
It’s almost like he’s picturing the vacation I just described and wants no part of it. Pain clenches at my heart, but it’s not like I’ve ever pictured my dream vacation with Xavier.
At least not until this week.
Xavier and getting out of this house are the only things I’ve been able to think about.
I shrug. “Maybe, but that’s why it would be a month long to give me time to adjust to the time change and travel days.”
“Have you always dreamed of going with Austin?”
His question catches me off guard, and my mouth falls open in response.
No. I’ve never dreamed of traveling with Austin, but I’d never admit that.
Sure, I might have thought I’d eventually marry Austin and settle down with him, but I always pictured myself on a romantic Parisian date with a mystery man.
A man that ignites desire in me with just one look. A man that worships my body all night long.
A man like Xavier.
I stand up and leave the rest of my breakfast untouched. As soon as I’m in the bedroom, I climb back into bed.
Xavier barges into the room a few minutes later.
“I need to show you something.”
Oh, yeah. The big secret.
I climb out of bed and follow him into the office. Neither of us speaks as he opens the closet door, pushes a couple of jackets to the side, and opens a secret door in the back of the closet.
How did he know about this?
As if reading my thoughts, he says, “I was looking in these boxes-”
“Being nosy?” I interrupt with a smile on my face.
“Yeah, well, I promised you I’d find out the truth. I don’t like sitting around waiting anymore than you do.”
His gaze sears into mine. It’s intense, and all I feel like doing is kissing him until we are both a pile of sweaty limbs, but my curiosity wins the internal battle.
“Alright, go on. You were looking in the boxes, and?”
“When I placed this box down, it hit the back wall, and it sounded hollow.”
“So you thought ‘hey, I bet there is a secret door here’ and then you found the secret button to open the door?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
I give him my ‘I don’t believe you’ look.
“I’ve been trying to figure out why your dad has a safe house and then this is the quality house he has. It doesn’t add up.”
He turns back to the closet and continues.
“The mere definition of a safe house is that you are safe. Sure, we might be in the middle of nowhere, but we aren’t exactly safe here. There isn’t a bunker, weapons, or a security system.”
It’s true that all those things are missing, but he doesn’t know what dad told Mom and me about his past.
Xavier doesn’t know that Dad is perfectly capable of handling any intruder that’s brave enough to break in.
A question pops in my mind and before I can think about whether I want to ask it or not, it comes out.
“What did you do in the military?” My voice comes out in a whisper.
A part of me already knows, but my mind refuses to believe it. I can see how intense he always is and how everything he does and says is calculated.
He’s had decades of practice.
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity. I hold my breath, scared for the truth to finally come out.
“Spec Ops.”
My gasp causes him to narrow his eyes at me.
“What?” He clenches his jaw and waits for me to explain my reaction.
Does he not know that Dad was also special operations?
My eyebrows furrow as I ask, “Do you really not know?”
“I have no clue what you are gasping about.”
And he really doesn’t. I can see the confusion in his eyes despite his expression being neutral.
“Part of what Dad talked to Mom and me about before you picked me up was that he was prior spec ops for the Army. He bought this house under his real name, Isaac Thornton.”
“So John is-”
“An alias. A completely made-up name. Did you ever know or work with an Isaac Thornton?”
Surely, there aren’t that many people that specialize in spec ops.
He shakes his head. “I was in the Marine Corps, and my team never worked with other branches unless it was the three letter agencies in DC.”
Damn. Another dead end.
“Can you show me what’s downstairs?”
He nods and heads down the stairs first. I stick close behind him so I don’t trip. When we reach the bottom, Xavier flips a switch and my mouth falls open.
This secret basement is the complete opposite from upstairs. It’s sleek, elegant, and modern.
There’s a gym set up on one end of the long room, bunk beds on the opposite end, a desk and computer setup with three monitors near the bunks, and an entire living room down here.
I’m assuming the door leads to a bathroom and upon opening it, my suspicions are right. This bathroom is bigger than the one upstairs.
It’s like half the size of the entire house upstairs.
The tiled walk-in shower is almost double the size of the one upstairs, with one long bench along the back wall. The double vanity is granite, and right in the middle of the enormous bathroom is a huge jetted tub.
I walk back to the main room with a grin on my face. “Now that is a bathroom.”
Xavier chuckles and returns my smile. “It’s all yours, Princess.”
My nostrils flare at the nickname, but I don’t say anything. I’m too excited about the jetted tub to let anything affect my mood.
Xavier moves around the room, opening secret compartments built into the wall.
Guns upon guns line the hidden shelves. Ammo boxes are stacked underneath based on caliber.
Another compartment has various accessories, like tracking devices, handheld GPS machines, walkie talkies, wire cutters, and flashlights.
Before Xavier can show me anything else, I say, “What. The. Fuck.”
“After doing some digging in the yard this morning, I found a separate fresh water well, a solar generator, and the vent system for this area.”
He softens his tone, but continues to share his discoveries with me. “There’s also a metal door under the bunk beds that we can put at the top of the stairs to keep everyone out.”
Unable to keep my mouth shut, I blurt out, “Is Dad planning for a zombie apocalypse?”
The laugh that comes out of Xavier’s mouth is genuine and carefree. “No, he’s planning for anything and everything to keep you safe.”
I roll my eyes. “A little too late for that. It would have been nice if he was honest and upfront the entire time.”
Xavier walks toward me. “Sometimes people keep secrets to protect the ones they love and care for.”
Something in his voice tells me he’s keeping secrets, so I ask, “Are you keeping secrets from me?”
His gaze moves to the floor for a second before returning to mine, telling me everything I need to know. My heart constricts as he whispers, “Yes.”
As I turn to leave, he reaches out and grabs my hand.
My body melts at his touch despite my mind telling me he is just as bad as Dad.
“Wait. Let me explain.”
When I don’t look at him, he pulls me until my back is pressed against his chest. “Please, let me explain. I promise to answer whatever questions you have. Just don’t walk away. Please.”
His voice is full of pain, like he hates that there are still secrets between us.
Well, he’s had plenty of chances to come clean. Five whole days and not one word.
Xavier leads me over to the microfiber couch and tells me everything, starting from the beginning.
The phone call from Hudson telling him about the bonfire and asking him to keep an eye on me.
The meeting at the bar with Hudson the next day, where he told Xavier about the death threats my family was getting.
The bar fight where he conveniently skipped over the reason he got so upset about the way the woman was treated.
Not that I condone verbal abuse, but there’s an underlying reason for his aggressive reaction, but I’m not going to push him to tell me about it right now.
He goes into detail about the conversation he overheard at the bait and tackle store, how he followed the mystery guys to the warehouse, how Hudson told Dad what was going on, and how he followed the guys to Uncle Zach’s restaurant.
He knew.
This entire time, he knew more than I ever could imagine.
More than I’ve known.
I even gave him some of the information, like how the killer stole the tiny box off Everett’s dead body.
Even then, he didn’t trust me with the whole truth.
Was I just another source of information for him? An inconvenience in his summer plans?
Before he can see the tears form in my eyes, I dart upstairs, needing to be alone to process everything he just told me.