Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Hannah
We walk up the stairs to my apartment, and I try to remember if I cleaned out Shadow’s kitty litter this morning. My place is tiny, and it can easily start to stink.
But that’s stupid—am I really worried about what he thinks?
It’s not like he’s some guy I invited to come up to Netflix and chill. He’s a mobster who killed a guy in my shop today. He’s taken me, my van and my apartment hostage, and I have absolutely no clue how this thing ends.
The only thing that keeps me from totally freaking out is his obvious attraction to me. Even now, walking up the stairs, I sense his gaze on my ass.
I turn around to verify. Yep.
“Like what you see?” I say dryly.
“Oh, Flowers,” he says. “I am all about your ass.”
I turn away before he can see the satisfaction on my face.
This guy hasn’t been with a woman in years, and I’m his first lay, so, of course, he’s going to think I’m all that.
Even so, his lusty reaction to my kiss back at the shop forever changed me.
I don’t ever want to be with a guy who gives me less of a response.
It’s not that I don’t usually get attention.
I do. I get plenty of it. Men all over my thing.
But it never lasts because I’m the idiot who always gets attached too quickly.
I’m an emotional sponge, and I get into their worlds.
I feel their emotions for them. Try to fix their problems. Forget about my own.
And then suddenly, I’m all in, and they’re walking away. Like clockwork.
Seriously, I’ve dated too many man-babies. Immature players who are more interested in themselves than anything else.
Armando is…
He’s extremely capable. And very dangerous, yes. I’m sure in some twisted way that’s part of the attraction.
And I remember once upon a time, he used to be charming.
Now he’s damaged.
He’s been in prison, just killed a guy in front of me and then tied me up and fucked me immediately after. He’s probably very damaged.
I’m crazy to be so turned on by him. What is it about the bad boy that makes a woman think she can reform him? It’s a losing proposition, I’m sure. He may be sexier and more capable than the usual guys I date, but my pattern of wanting to fix is the same.
Some secret instinct in me wants to heal him.
I think that’s what made me give myself over to him. Made me kiss him. Offer my body up to quench his desperate need.
I wait for him at the door because Armando has my purse. He fishes out my keys and hands them to me. When my fingers shake trying to slide the right one in the lock, he takes over, opening the door and ushering me in with a hand at my back.
My apartment is just a studio and a bathroom. Fortunately, it doesn’t smell.
The front door is painted the color of a bumblebee, something my landlord would shit over if he knew I painted it. But I needed color in all the drab.
Inside, my apartment is simple and small.
The one room is furnished with a small two-man purple sofa, a coffee table with a colorful tapestry flung over it, and a TV I bought at a thrift store for thirty bucks.
The kitchenette has four cabinets and a small refrigerator.
I’m lucky enough that this unit also has a two-burner stove unlike some of my neighbors.
There is barely enough room for a tiny table and two chairs, but I was able to cram them into the space.
My bed is up against the far wall in order to give me as much room as possible. I have colors of the rainbow splattered in pillows across a bright blue comforter to make it appear as a lounge area rather than what it is—a bed crammed in a small room with a sofa.
Twinkle lights are strung from one side of the room to the other, casting a warm hue on the space. It might not be much to most, but it’s mine, and I feel comfortable inside.
The kitten mews from the bed, standing up and arching his back in a shivery stretch. “Hi Shadow.” He runs to me on tiny paws and twines around my ankles.
I watch Armando as he moves around my space, unsure of how to read his expression.
Eyes usually give away the feelings that hide behind people’s masks, but when I look into Armando’s eyes, all I see is a void. His entire being seems to have built a wall between us that I can’t penetrate. A sensation of unease and unfamiliarity crawls up my spine as I try to connect with him.
Still, there is something oddly comforting about his presence that makes me feel safe. Ironic considering...
“So what happens now?” I demand, pretending I’m not scared of the hulking man beside me.
Armando rubs his face. “Now?”
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know. There’s no script for the I-killed-a-guy-in-your-florist-shop scenario.
“Now I’m going to sit on you until I’m sure you’re cool.”
“I’m cool,” I assure him immediately. I guess I’ve been waiting for him to ask me. Or demand it or... whatever. I’ve already decided—if I hadn’t from the very beginning—that I’m not going to rat on him. “I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw. I won’t say a word, I promise.”
He nods. “Good.”
“So... we’re cool. Right?”
“Not yet.”
I huff out a sigh. “So what are you going to do?”
He leans his back against the door and scans my apartment. When his gaze dances over the bed in the corner, his lids droop, but he gives his head a shake and pulls out his phone. “First I gotta make a call. Then I’ll order us some food. What do you like?”
I shrug. Don’t mind a free meal, considering there’s nothing but a couple cans of flavored seltzer water and a bag of potato chips in my kitchen. “Anything.”
He arcs a brow. “You eat calzones? I know a great place.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He dials a number, and I hear a short, clipped conversation. Mostly yeah and thanks . I head to the bathroom. While I’m there, I hear him order two calzones, a salad, and a bottle of wine, rattling off my address, which apparently, he’s already memorized.
I use the opportunity in the bathroom to quickly clean out the kitty litter although why I’m working so hard is beyond me.
This is not a date.
I hustle out of the bathroom with the tied trash bag of cat poop and run smack into Armando’s big chest.
He catches my wrists then wrinkles his nose and pushes the one with the trash bag away from our bodies. “Do you want it to be a date?”
What?
Oh crap, did I mutter that out loud? I thought he was on the phone!
I pull out of his grasp, practically dashing for the door.
He catches me around the waist right before I get there. “Where are you going?”
I hold the bag up. “To the dumpster. I’m not leaving this in here.” I use my best duh voice.
He doesn’t release me. Instead, he holds me even tighter, his mouth coming to the outer shell of my ear. “Keep up the sass, Flowers. I’d love to spank that ass again.”
My knees buckle.
Dammit. That was not swoon worthy, but for some reason, my body thought it was.
My pussy clenched when he said it, and now all I feel is a hot, slow pulse.
The throbbing complaint of that missed orgasm.
Maybe one more time with him, just to finish, just to feel if all this heat lives up to its hype would be worth it.
“ You take it then.” I know—I sass. It’s not even subconscious.
Luckily—or maybe unluckily—I’m not certain, he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he slowly releases me. “Can’t do that, either.”
“Looks like we’re going to have that date, after all. I always wanted a guy to take me to the dumpster.” I toss my hair as I look over my shoulder at him.
He lets me go, and when I turn, I glimpse an echo of the old Armando. His lips quirk like he might smile if I keep it up. He takes the knotted trash bag from my hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. “Nothing’s too good for my girl.”
I hide a grin as he opens the door and hooks his index finger through the loop on my keys as we leave.
Shadow darts out, and I stoop and pick him up and rub my face in his fur and kiss his sweet head before I drop him back inside and shut the door.
I want to keep up the flirting, but an awkward silence descends between us. At least, it’s awkward for me. Armando’s as tense as ever. Same hard blank face he wore cleaning up a dead guy. Driving my van.
We walk down the three flights of stairs and outside to the dumpsters then back again without saying a word to each other. Armando glances around outside, doing his badass secret agent impression again.
I wonder who he’s worried about.
“So who’s trying to kill you?”
Nothing changes on Armando’s face. He doesn’t look at me. But I see a muscle flex in his jaw like he’s grinding his teeth.
He ignores my question and quickens the pace back into the building.
I think through the facts. He just got out of prison, and someone’s trying to kill him. So it’s either something unresolved from when he went in. Or maybe something that happened on the inside.
“You kill someone first?”
His gaze cuts to me then away.
So that’s it. Someone wants revenge.
“Is it someone from within the mafia?”
“Seriously, Hannah.” His tone is all business. “Ask another question, and I’ll tape your mouth. I mean it.”
I’m more offended by the threat than I should be. We’re both pretending I’m not his prisoner. I guess I prefer that fantasy to the terror that goes with the harsher picture of what’s happening here. Or how this might end.
“You’re a dick,” I mutter.
Nice comeback.
“I’m trying to protect you.” Does he sound slightly defensive?
I scoff. “Yeah, you’re a real knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”
His own scoff is soft and bitter. “Definitely not that. And you don’t want to know all the depraved things I’d like to do to you, so don’t tempt me.”
Now I do want to know.
About the depraved things.
I want to know so badly… I might ask him. We bump shoulders as we climb the stairs side by side.
“What depraved things?” Apparently, I have no self-control.
He gives me that heavy-lidded look that makes my panties damp. He makes a sound in his throat and then says, “I might tie you to that bed.”
And? I desperately want him to go on.