Chapter 8
EIGHT
Nico
She looked at me like I had two heads.
But she couldn’t be as confused as I was.
I’d told myself to stay away from her, but I hadn’t been able to resist touching her.
So for now, the best thing I could do was keep my distance, something she helped by running into the bathroom.
After a moment, I left the bedroom, wondering how long she would stay in the bathroom before she dared emerge.
Probably a long time.
I’d bet every dollar I had no one had ever touched her like that. I was also sure that my initial impression of her being kind was true. Just as I knew she was stubborn. I wondered if she had been born that way, or if life had taught her hard lessons.
I had my suspicions, but didn’t indulge them and instead went downstairs.
The living room had cleared out after I’d given the men with their assignments, leaving me to my problem. I made a quick call and ordered food, then waited downstairs for it to arrive.
When it did, I was no closer to a solution for my much too distracting problem than I had been before.
But something had to give.
I already felt something for her, which was a problem in itself.
When was the last time I felt something besides loyalty?
I knew when, and unbidden, the memory of flames, the heat of fire, the sound of screams fading into nothing filled my brain.
I ruthlessly pushed them away, something that had gotten easier over the years, though I wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.
Trying to keep those thoughts at bay, I went back up the stairs and almost dropped the food when I saw her.
She was sitting in the center of my bed, her legs crossed giving me a full view of her soft luscious brown thighs.
She blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry. I was cold and the floor was hard and I’m tired…”
“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging.
And it was.
Her sitting there didn’t bother me at all.
In fact, she looked…perfect, looked like everything I had never even known to dream of.
And I was reminded again that this sweet, seemingly innocent girl was dangerous.
“What’s that?” she asked as I approached and set a tray on the bed.
“I asked if you were hungry before, and I didn’t get an answer. So, I’m asking again. You hungry?” I asked.
She looked like she wanted to say no, but before she could speak, I heard her stomach rumbling.
She smiled, the expression unguarded, genuine—and breathtaking.
“I guess I’ll save the lie,” she said with a little giggle. I didn’t respond, and instead watched as she looked at the bag skeptically, then back at me.
But the aroma coming from the bag must have made the decision for her.
She reached for the bag and peeled it open slowly.
“I would ask if there’s poison in this, but you don’t strike me as the type,” she said, pulling back part.
There was a faint smile on her lips, one I tried my hardest to ignore.
“What does that mean?”
She studied me for a moment. “I don’t know if I should answer that.” She reached into the bag. “Wow!” she said.
“Wow what?” I asked.
“So fancy. This place is in the lobby of the building where I pick up dog-grooming clients sometimes,” she said.
“You like it?” I asked, for some reason far too invested in her answer.
But the idea of pleasing her, doing something to put that smile back on her face was undeniable.
She chuckled. “It’s a little bit out of my budget, but the people who go seem to love it,” she said.
“Why didn’t you answer my question?” I said, bringing us back to the previous topic.
“I was hoping you forgotten that,” she responded.
“I don’t forget much.” I cocked me head to the side and studied her.
She huffed, but then said, “Poison is subtle. You seem too direct for that.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Do you always develop opinions on what murder methods people might employ?” I asked.
“Not before today. But after a girl gets thrown into the trunk of a stranger’s car, it tends to give her a different perspective,” she said.
She looked at me through hooded eyes, trying to see how I would respond.
I knew she was testing me, and I didn’t like it, but I chose to ignore it.
Was too preoccupied with making sure I didn’t respond to her.
That twinge of something much too much like guilt was starting to burn at the back of my neck.
Guilt.
Something else that I was far too familiar with.
I carried around four lifetimes of it.
But never like this.
Never for someone who wasn’t them.
The lives I’d taken had all but faded into memory and were completely detached from emotion. But this girl…
She made me feel something that was reserved to the deepest recesses of my soul, reserved for a place and people who were gone forever.
I fucking despised it.
Hope seemed to sense a change, and I was again reminded that this girl, no matter how naive she might look, was quite perceptive.
“Eat your food,” I said gruffly.
Her eyes widened slightly, and she did as I asked without further bidding.
I didn’t like that either.
She was skittish, jumpy, but not outwardly so.
No, her emotions were controlled, but there was an edge.
Of course there is, you fucking dumb ass. You kidnapped her.
True, but I didn’t think that was it.
Her kind of vigilance seemed almost normal for her and left me to wonder what else there was to her story.
We sat in silence as she ate the burger and fries, though I was sure the restaurant that had prepared them would prefer I use a fancier name.
“How was it?” I asked when she finished the last bite.
She looked at me, her eyes still hooded, still wary, and after she wiped her face, took a sip of water from the bottle that lay next to her, she smiled.
“This was the best burger I’ve ever eaten in my entire life,” she said, giving me another one of those smiles that made my heart stutter.
“So getting kidnapped wasn’t a total loss,” I said.
She rolled her eyes, then caught herself before she shook her head, though I didn’t miss the little smile on her lips.
“Guess not,” she said.
Then she went quiet again, waiting, before something seemed to come over her.
“I’m sorry I made such a mess,” she said.
She grabbed the trash and but glanced around the room wildly, looking for a place to put it.
She seemed almost worried now, and I wanted to calm her.
Knew that I could do no such thing, so I instead shook my head.
“I’ll take it,” I said.
She didn’t exactly look relieved, but I gathered the trash, keeping myself from telling her that she had made no mess at all.
Disposed of the trash and then came back and found her sitting in the exact same place I have left her.
Felt that kick in my chest at how right she looked there.
No other woman had ever seen this bed, let alone sat on it. When I needed release, I went to a hotel, or, on occasion, to the woman’s place.
But she looked perfect here, so perfect that it almost made me want to throw her out.
This was exactly the shit I wanted to avoid.
Thinking about how perfect she looked in my bed instead of how I was going to rid myself of the problem that she was quickly becoming.
I needed to get my shit together.
Trouble was clearly bad for my equilibrium, and that was something I couldn’t tolerate.
To make no mention of that stunt she had pulled earlier.
She might be being docile, nice, but I couldn’t trust that, just as I apparently, couldn’t trust myself.
“You need to go to the bathroom?” I asked.
She shook her head, her eyes wide. The fear, which it been there the entire time was back in the full force.
Which was good as far as I was concerned.
Maybe if she were terrified it wouldn’t be so easy for me to forget what this was—and what I knew I would eventually have to do.
“Lie down,” I said.
She did as I said, though she trembled.
“Give me your arm,” I said, circling the bed to stand beside her.
She reached out, her nerves palpable.
I took her arm, trying to ignore the reaction to touching her, and in four quick moves, had one wrist tied to the bedpost.
Did the same with her ankle, and then tied the other hand to the top of the bedpost.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked.
She was indignant, and terrified.
I smirked. “You should have thought of that before you tried to shoot me.”
“Oh? That,” she said.
I can help myself from smiling.
“Yes, that. You can’t be trusted. You should have enough slack to move around and keep the blood flowing, but I don’t have to worry about waking up with you standing over me, or better yet, not waking up at all,” I said.
“I guess I should say thanks, then,” she snapped, before she seemed to think the better of it.
I saw her twisting, testing the bonds.
Also saw the instant when she realized that getting away was futile.
“Now get some sleep,” I said.
I plunged the room into darkness and lay beside her, drifting to sleep, trying to ignore the voice that whispered how perfect it felt to have her in my bed.