CHAPTER FOUR #2
Liam’s eyes come back to mine once Ty disappears, his features softening, voice husky from the pressure on his vocal cords. “You know I would too, right? With my life . But we have a job to finish.”
Dropping my arm and stepping back, I scan him as he flattens his crumpled shirt and stubs out his wasted cigarette. My fingers weave into my hair with an exasperated grunt. “I know you would. And, yes, we do.”
“So, if she doesn’t come willingly?” he asks.
My gaze locks on to his with all the earnestness the answer requires. “We force her.”
I roll out of bed at the crack of dawn, having barely slept.
Shouldering the stress of all of this is getting to me, and the journey is far from over.
Even my morning workout routine doesn’t seem to be clearing my head.
After a five-hundred-yard swim, one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, twenty pull-ups, and a two-mile run, I’m still as fucked up as I’ve been for days.
Reading over Liam’s reports on our offshore accounts, I chug my fourth cup of black coffee, attempt to settle myself with some classical music, and check my phone for texts from Ivy for the twentieth time. Nothing.
C’mon, Little Storm. Talk to me .
It’s not even noon, and I’m breaking out a bag of Sour Skittles, drowning my stress in sugarcoated sourness, while I continue working through my daily tasks. Popping a handful of only the strawberry in my mouth, I send a quick text.
Me: The decoy is ready. You?
The three dots dance immediately, followed by a response.
Private: Did everything asked on my end. Up to you now.
That was less pissy than our last communication, so I’ll take it.
Me: Appreciate it. She’s in good hands.
I flip my phone over, burying my face in my hands and cataloging every imaginable scenario and a contingency plan for each, which leads me to check in with Gage, who’s been too quiet. Deciding I’m not in the mood for conversation, I send a text to him as well.
Me: Status?
Another handful of Skittles to take the edge off, and I’m thinking it’s going to take a lunchtime scotch to survive this waiting game.
Jesus, what if she freezes me out for an entire day, like last time?
Not wanting to be a piece of shit who drinks his meals when overwhelmed, I saunter out of my office to the kitchen to find something solid to ingest when Gage’s response pings through.
Big Guy: Target Neutralized. Back tonight.
That’s one issue down. Everything is moving along fine.
If I could keep my thoughts off the spunky gingersnap for ten minutes, sanity might be mine again.
Settling on an omelet for lunch, I pull out the eggs, cheese, and a slew of vegetables to throw inside.
But, as if she knew I had a full three minutes not fretting over her, my phone rings.
Little Storm flashes across the screen. I abandon the uncooked ingredients of my meal, hurry back to my office for privacy, and answer.
“Hello, Little Storm. Good to hear from you.”
She giggles faintly before her sweet, raspy warble filters through the speaker. “Hi, Wells. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. ”
“Not possible,” I promise as I lower into my leather desk chair. “How was your night?”
“Good.” She shudders an ambivalent sigh. “A little weird actually.”
My pulse picks up as wretched images of what could unsettle her flash through my mind—an occupational hazard. “Weird how? Everything okay?”
“Yes. Fine. Thank you for asking. It’s my mom. She … her response was a little weird.”
Her mom’s response? My pulse continues thumping, apprehension mingling with hope. “Response?”
“Oh, right. I should back up. I’m in …” Her tone grows tentative, shy. “I mean, if this whole marriage situation still works for you.”
If she only knew.
“Yes, Ivy, it works. You’ve made my day. But your mother? She was unhappy?”
“Kind of. It’s not important. She seemed … off , and now, she’s headed out of town, but this whole situation is a lot to take for everyone, so no worries.”
Leaving that alone is probably best, so I won’t tarry there. “It is a lot. Are you packed? When can I come get you?”
“I am mostly packed, but I can drive out there myself. No need to come,” she declares. “I’d like to stop and see my dad on the way.”
I sift through the Skittles, selecting a few yellows. “Not bringing much? I can’t imagine you fitting everything in the Ferrari.”
She chuckles under her breath, a snicker holding both doubt and challenge. “It’ll be tight, but I can manage.”
That’s not how things work with us, Little Storm . “I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there at two, help you pack up there, unload here, and take you to see your father tomorrow.”
A scoff hisses through the speaker, a peek at the thunder booming beneath her trill. “That’s really not necessary.”
“Ivanna,” I warn .
“Yes, Gavin ?” she snarks, and my cock jerks, aching to tame the brat.
“I’ll be there at two.” It’s not a question or a suggestion.
Several beats of weighty silence before a resigned, “Okay.”
“See ya soon, Little Storm.”
Birds chirping and a light breeze are the only signs of life in the neighborhood as I stand in Ivy’s bricked circular driveway. There’s got to be several people working from home and certainly some who don’t need to work at all. No one enjoys the outdoors anymore.
Since she insisted she could manage on her own, I’ve allowed her to demonstrate that feat for the last fifteen minutes but to no avail.
The midday sun is beating down on us, a September scorcher, and she is growing visibly more irritated—pink skin, beads of sweat on her neck and hairline, clenched jaw.
After she shoots me a stern glower, I suspect her indignation is directed at me, but that is wholly misplaced. I’m the savior here.
“Hmm,” I muse, sucking on a cherry Tootsie Pop as I perch against my Mercedes G-Wagon. We could’ve thrown everything in there from the start, but where’s the fun in that? “Trouble?”
She drops the box she’s holding with a thud, puffs the flyaway wisp of hair from her gorgeous face, plants her hands on her hips, and clamps those striking ocean blues on me. “You. You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes,” I admit with a smile. I aim to tell her the truth as often as possible, and this is beautiful. The view and the victory.
A throaty grunt follows, filling me with excitement that my Little Storm might rage right here in the driveway for me. But she surprises me. I like that about her. There’s always something unexpected.
She straightens, composing herself with a slow breath.
“Fine. I can admit when I’m wrong. Of course, had you not come, I would’ve simply adjusted what I deemed necessary to bring, therefore proving the accuracy of my original statement.
But since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. ”
Without a word, I wrap up my treat, stick it into my jeans pocket, and move toward the discarded box, but at the last second, I shift, pressing her against her Ferrari.
Her breath hitches as I cage her there, lips parting when I dip my chin, eyes roving over my face as I lean in to whisper in her ear, “I’d like to hear you ask me nicely. ”
Her chest heaves against mine, soft, hidden, and sexy as fuck beneath her forest-green V-neck tee. “What?” she asks, sounding a bit dazed.
My lips tickle, dusting over the shell of her ear, my breath bouncing back over my cheek as my balls draw up in anticipation. Christ , she smells delectable. “Ask me nicely, Little Storm. For what you want .”
“Oh,” she croons, breathy and light, lifting her chin to brush her mouth against my jaw. “Please, Mr. Wells , could you get off your fucking ass, wipe the cocky smirk off your face, and load my damn luggage?”
Pulling back a smidgen, I study her triumphant features, thick eyelashes batting, so proud of herself.
Jesus, she’s going to be fun.
As much as I’d like to dive deeper into this erotically charged battle right here in her driveway, I think it’s best to let her savor this win, knowing her panties are most definitely wet.
I reach down, sweep the rogue strand of hair behind her ear, and trail my fingertips down her neck.
She shivers under my touch, and my lips split into my own victorious grin.
“That’s a start, Ives. We can build on that.”
She bites her lip, eyes closing for a beat before her hands curl on my hips, shoving me backward. Not that she has enough force to do so, but I don’t mind playing.
“Great,” she says. “You can start by building a pyramid out of my boxes.”
Shouldering past me, she struts to my SUV, attempting to open the back door. It’s locked, of course, so I wait a hot minute before unlocking it. Her glare on me eventually erupts into a musical, full-bodied laugh. Infectious.
“Seriously?” she whines as she stomps her foot, although it’s more for comedic effect at this point. “Open the damn door so we can get out of here.” There’s the faintest hint of something deeper that floats across her face as she flicks her gaze back toward her house.
I click the button on the key fob in my pocket, scoop up the box near my feet, and step around her to slide it in the back seat.
She returns a moment later with another, and I open the rear cargo door for her to deposit it, before grabbing her arm.
“You’re anxious to get out of here. Something happen? ”
Swallowing, she seems to be deliberating on whether or not she should divulge whatever she’s thinking. We can’t have that.
“It doesn’t feel like I’m leaving home, I guess.” She shrugs, her loose ponytail swishing with the gesture. “It’s like I’m leaving a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.”
I can relate to that far more than I could explain here in her driveway. “That makes sense. You said your dad was sick. Is that why?”
She nods, her eyes clouding over. “Yes. He was … my rock. And now, he’s not himself—stroke.
A bad one. Plus, my best friend, Celeste, and my mom are gone now for the rest of fall.
In a blink, everything … fell away. No one is truly gone, and yet, they’re no longer mine.
” Tilting her face up, she purses her lips as though embarrassed to catch herself drifting. “Sorry. Promise not to be a downer.”
I cradle her chin in my palm. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize.”
“Okay,” she breathes before adding, “Thanks,” with a contrived grin.
We finish loading her belongings in silence, but once they’re packed up, she glances back at me.
“I guess that’s it. Good thing you came to help.
” Her teeth notch her lower lip with a giggle, so damn alluring.
“But so you know, you don’t have to take me to see my father tomorrow. That I really can handle on my own.”
“Why don’t we go now?” I suggest, swirling the keys around my index finger and itching to finish my sucker. Although, it isn’t a suggestion. We’re going. “You said it’s on the way, right?”
“Yeah.” She slides her hands into the pockets of her hazelnut shorts. “I’ve already monopolized so much of your time. You don’t want to sit in a parking lot and wait for me while I visit with him.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “I don’t. I’m coming in.”
“What?” Her eyebrows pinch tight over her dainty, freckled nose. “You won’t want to do that either. He’s often confused, sometimes irritable. He can’t speak or—”
“Ivanna, it’s your father. I’d like to be there.”
Accepting the finality in my words, she blows out a breath, her voice strained with emotion. “Fine. I’d like that too. He’s at Shady Pines Stroke Rehabilitation Center.” With that, she scurries to her car and jumps inside, not starting the ignition until I’m behind the wheel of my own vehicle.
I follow behind her on the way to Shady Pines so I can see her father and tell him his little girl is mine now.