Chapter 17
Brody
I snatch the towel off the bar.
I tell myself I want her vulnerable and exposed, but if I’m being honest, I’m not ready to lose the sight of her naked body just yet.
She eyes me with suspicion.
I toss her towel over my shoulder. “You’re not being honest with me.”
Unimpressed, Trinity folds her arms, covering those perfect breasts. She shivers in the cool bathroom air, and goosebumps pimple her arms and legs.
“I’ve been running the math.” I hold her gaze.
“Like I said before, I recognized some of those Russians who cornered us at the construction site. They don’t do freelance.
They’re all Bratva business. Again, likely Kruschev’s guys.
Question is, what are they doing here? A world away from home, risking a war with two Irish families? For what?”
Why is Andrei Kruschev pursuing Trinity Gallagher? Does she know the answer, or is she really as clueless as she claims?
I deliberately divert my attention to the water droplets gliding between her breasts before once again meeting her eyes.
I meant for the assessment to be invasive. Claiming.
But Trinity’s unfazed by my scrutiny.
Maybe that’s exactly what she wants.
“How should I know?” Trinity tosses her head, her wet hair sliding across her shoulders. “It doesn’t make sense that any of you pricks are after me in the first place.”
Her remark more than piques my interest. For a few seconds, I actually forget that she’s naked. “What do you mean by that?”
She shrugs a damp shoulder. “I’m not valuable. I’ve been sent away and set apart from my family from almost the beginning. On paper, it would be easy to say I mean nothing to them—”
“But in practice?” I press her.
Her gaze remains steadfast and unyielding.
Not combative, but not fearful either.
“You kidnapped me on my graduation day. No one’s noticed me missing and come after you. I couldn’t even get the attention of an Irish King not ten feet away from me. You do the math.” The apathetic way she lists the facts brings uneasiness into my system.
These responses aren’t normal.
They feel and sound honest enough, but the manner of her delivery…
She speaks like a robot who’s powered off her humanity for the evening.
What the hell is that about?
This must be another tactic. Another attempt to throw me off and exploit my distraction.
Tread carefully. My brain shutters up like an abandoned house.
“You’re right.” I call her bluff with a smirk. “In fact, I couldn’t agree more. You do seem pretty useless to the Gallagher clan. Which means it can’t be you they’re after.”
Trinity’s eyes widen.
Caught her.
“It has to be something you know. Or…” I lurch forward, crowding her space and drilling her with my stare. “Something you have.”
She stiffens at my proximity, her chin raised. “And what do you think I have, Brody?” Trinity spins in a little circle, showing off that traffic-stopping figure. “You think I’m a smuggler?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you to stick a thumb drive up your ass for safe-keeping.” The image of that brings a smile to my face and earns me an eye roll.
Trinity shifts her weight, sarcasm thick in her voice. “I bet you wouldn’t mind checking for it either.”
She’s not wrong, but… “I just don’t know about you.” My gaze drops to that defiant mouth. I wouldn’t mind kissing those lips again. “That’s what’s bothering me.”
“Maybe they want what you want. A hostage. Leverage against my brother.” She gives me a brittle little laugh. “Sound familiar?”
Even though I can tell she’s lying, I nod. I see the truth in her tense shoulders and skittering gaze. I don’t know why or what about, exactly, but Trinity has a secret.
Which is fair. I did kidnap her. We don’t have any reason to trust each other.
Without any knowledge of this missing variable, I can’t neutralize the threat. Time to push.
“You know what else I don’t get?” My voice goes quiet. Analytical. An echo of hers in the living room. The realization that I’m mimicking her shows up plain as day in her furrowed brows and that cute little pout on her lips. “Why you’re always alone.”
She flinches. Not noticeably. But I do catch the sudden burst of tension in her muscles.
I invade more of her personal space, extending my arm between us like a bridge until my fingertips connect with the soft skin of her throat. As I run my fingers down the side of her neck, her breathing stutters. I want to follow that path with my lips.
“I trailed you for weeks, Trinity. You never saw me, but I saw you.” This confession strikes me as oddly intimate, like scooping out a piece of my chest and presenting it on a platter.
“Saw you alone. Always alone. You never went out with friends. You never went to parties. Once, I followed you to that mediocre bar and watched you sip wine and listen to music. I heard you play the piano in the music rooms on campus. Other than that, all you did was go to work and drive your crappy car. Why don’t you have anything in your life? ”
Weird. In some distorted way, I could almost be talking about myself.
A workaholic. A man who lives for nothing and has nothing except these responsibilities I take so seriously.
I’m trying to put her on the spot, so why do I feel as though I’ve hit myself with friendly fire?
Trinity stays still, staring at me with wide green eyes.
Like she’s peering directly into a floodlight. Unmoving. Silent.
Vulnerable.
“Why did your family send you away when you were a kid?” The questions fall from my lips, one after the other. “What happened?”
I know I won’t get any answers.
The whole purpose of this exercise is to destabilize her. Throw her off balance the same way she threw me.
I almost lost my cool entirely. If I was that close, I know I can get under her skin too.
If some helpful morsel of information should slip out in the process, great.
And if I should get some hot sex out of this infuriating hostage of mine, that’s just icing on the cake.
I run my hands down her shoulders, moving inward over the rise of her breasts. My knuckles scrape over her hardened nipples—
“Is this how you pass your days, Brody?” The exacting edge in her tone freezes me in place. “When you’re not acting like Declan’s loyal dog, when you’re not murdering, torturing, or committing crimes, this is what you do? Groom young women for your future debauchery?”
Exactly what kind of man are you?
Why do pits of shame crack open on the floor of my gut?
No. She’s not going to turn the tables on me. Not this time.
“Why no friends, Trinity?” I keep going, reaching down until the fingertips of both hands come to rest on the front of her thighs and begin trailing in and up, up. Everywhere we touch, electricity crawls over my skin. “Why no boyfriends?”
“What makes you think I’m interested in men at all?” Her tone remains even and detached, like this conversation is barely about her.
I know I’ve got her on the ropes, though.
She can’t hold my gaze for more than a few milliseconds at a time.
While she looks cool and calm, her body betrays her. Dark eyes. Blown pupils. Heaving chest. Twitching muscles.
My hand circles her cute little cunt, tangling gently in the wiry reddish hairs. This time, she full-on flinches at my caress.
My pulse leaps with her every motion, each muscle in my body ready to pounce on her at a moment’s notice.
Our eyes lock. We’re both actively engaged in this naked showdown.
With my heart thundering in my chest, my voice barely climbs above a whisper. “Your family. Why weren't they at your graduation? Why didn’t they want you?”
Trinity jerks back as if I struck her.
With a sharp toss of her arm, she bats my hands away and pivots without giving me the satisfaction of her broken expression.
Instead, she marches to the vanity on the left side of the room, lifts the little stool, and chucks the piece of furniture right at my face.
Instinctively, I raise my arms to block the hit, grunting as pain lances my muscles.
The upended stool clatters to the floor.
Well, shit. Guess I struck a nerve.
About damn time.
Silence leeches through the air, electricity vibrating all around us.
Trinity just hovers, naked and twitching with the strain of restricting her breath. Defiance outlines each inch of her body, every muscle itching for a fight. Though her expression appears calm, rage glitters in her eyes, brightening her face like a spotlight.
An ancient goddess trapped in this desolate desert farmhouse.
Still, she didn’t break. She fought back.
I might actually be bruised from that throw.
I’m impressed and aroused as hell.
I’ve never had a woman challenge me this much.
A dangerous smile lifts my mouth as I survey her like a predator appraises prey. Dark admiration rises in my chest.
I’ve made my point, so I don’t press her further. I simply leave her alone in the bathroom, naked and seething.
As I head upstairs in search of clean clothes for us, the questions we’ve hurled at each other echo in the chamber of my mind.
Exactly what kind of man are you?
Why didn’t they want you?
I meant for our most recent exchange to be domineering and obedience-inducing.
But her reaction—that raw pain in her eyes, that thunderous expression—struck a nerve deep inside me.
I don’t want to think about that.
This feels far too close to empathy for my taste, but…even I can’t deny that possibility. Trinity Gallagher and I may have more in common than we believed.
Her family sent her away for some reason when she was a kid. My family—my father, in particular—kept me close. But that wasn’t any better.
Because my father hates me. He wanted me to know that every single day.
He probably still wants me to know that.
To be sent away because your family loves you probably feels as awful as being kept close because your father hates you.
She and I just might be two sides of the same fucked-up coin. And that’s the real danger in all of this.
What happens if we flip?
Brody
Outside the windows, the barren desert offers itself to the sky.