Chapter 19 Ransom
RANSOM
When Willow comes out of the bedroom, I’m in her kitchen, raiding the cabinets for snacks. I can only imagine that this place is much better stocked than her old one, given that everything else about it is nicer than that rathole.
The apartment has an open floor plan, so there’s only a partial wall separating the living room from the kitchen.
From where I am, I can see Vic perched on an armchair, typing away at his laptop, doing Vic stuff.
He already erased the security footage from Willow’s apartment entryway, so now he’s probably trying to figure out what the hell went wrong with the job from X tonight, and why X might have wanted Galvin dead.
We’ll have to debrief about it as soon as Malice is back up and running, because honestly, this shit was fucked up.
None of us have ever shied away from killing someone when there’s a reason for it, but doing X’s dirty work like this pisses me the hell off. Especially when we don’t even know why Galvin had to die, and we had no fucking idea what we were signing up for in the first place.
There’s no way that flash in the car didn’t have something to do with the device we planted on Galvin.
Maybe it was some kind of small explosive as well as a recording device, or maybe it was a detonator of some kind for something that was already placed in the car.
Either way, the timing is too perfect for it to have been an accident, and I’m sure we all want to know what the fuck kind of game X is playing.
I pull down a bag of cheese puffs just as Willow steps into the kitchen, and I shove those thoughts away for the moment. Turning to face her, I shake the bag lightly and grin.
“Damn. You’ve got the name brand kind and everything,” I tease. “Someone’s moving up in the world.”
She huffs a little laugh. “Is that the signifier that things are going better in my life? Name brand cheese puffs?”
“Oh definitely. The off brand stuff is fine, especially when you don’t have money, but there’s just something about the extra dollar you pay for the premium fake cheese that really screams privilege.”
“Or maybe you’re just weird,” she shoots back.
I shrug. “Hell, that’s always a possibility. I like your new digs either way. They’re fancy.”
“Thanks,” Willow replies, rolling her eyes. She hops up onto the kitchen island and goes for a package of cookies that I left there, taking a few and eating them.
There’s something about seeing her like this that I really like. She’s in her own territory, queen of her castle, and despite the stress of our sudden blood-soaked appearance at her apartment, she seems comfortable and at ease in her sleep shorts and oversized shirt.
“So,” she says, speaking around a mouthful of cookie. “You said there was an accident and your car was totaled.”
I nod. “Yeah. On a back road, going fucking seventy something miles an hour too.”
“But what happened? Was it random? Was it a part of the job?”
“Let’s just say things didn’t go quite how we expected them to, and we couldn’t stop it in time before we totaled the car,” I tell her.
It’s not safe to explain too much more than that. Even her knowing about X in the first place is probably too much, but we needed her help—and we needed her to understand why we made that video that hurt her so badly.
“Can it be traced back to you?” she asks, and she looks a little anxious, even though she’s trying to hide it.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “We’re better than that. And we run a chop shop, remember? We’re good at this kind of stuff. The car we were in can’t be linked back to us. No one will know we were there.”
Willow chews on her lower lip, seeming to process my answer.
She nods slowly, but I can tell she’s still worried about us.
I like that. I like that even after everything, all the shit that went down between us, she still cares.
But at the same time, I don’t want her to worry too much or ask too many questions.
Because what happened tonight? It was very bad. I don’t want her to get involved in that or make her worry any more than she already does.
It’s easier to just change the subject, so I pivot to a new topic.
“I’m guessing you didn’t actually invite your mom to the museum opening tonight,” I throw out, raising an eyebrow.
Willow sighs and runs her fingers through her blonde hair, making it catch the light. “No, I didn’t. I mentioned it offhand a few days ago, just in a ‘here’s a thing I’m doing, isn’t that cool’ kind of way, and she just… ran with it, I guess. I hate that she made a scene like that, but…”
She trails off, and when it seems like she’s not going to say anything else, I nudge her a little. “But what?”
“But… I don’t know. I feel so conflicted about the whole thing, you know? She was never a great mom, but she did take me in. She did keep me off the streets, and I think maybe she did her best with what she had. Don’t I owe her for that? For making sure I wasn’t just some foster kid all my life?”
It’s a complicated question. I don’t have the answer, but I get the sense that just saying all this shit out loud is helping Willow, so I lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Maybe. Although I’m not really all that inclined to think well of your mom, going off of what I know about her,” I admit.
“And let me ask you this: if the positions were reversed, and your mom came into a bunch of money all of a sudden, do you think she’d help you out?
Or would she take the money and leave you to fend for yourself? ”
Willow’s brow furrows, and I can tell she is actually thinking about it. Then she sighs again, shaking her head. “You must think I’m an idiot for still wanting to believe that people are capable of being better, even though I’ve seen enough of the world that I shouldn’t be so na?ve.”
“No. I don’t think you’re an idiot,” I say sincerely. “I meant what I told you back at the gala. I like that you have a big heart. I think it’s one of the best things about you.”
I move closer to where she’s sitting on the kitchen island and put a hand on her chest, right over her heart, above the tattoo that Malice gave her.
Willow’s breath catches. I half expect her to jerk away or go all tense and stiff again, but when she looks up to meet my gaze, her expression isn’t shuttered. It’s not closed off. I can see need and desire and something like hope swirling in her eyes, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
“Ransom…”
She whispers my name, her luminous eyes large in her face.
I move in even closer, and Willow spreads her legs, letting me stand between them. It feels right to be this close to her again. To have her here like this.
I slide my fingers up and over her shoulder, just for the sensation of touching her.
She smells the same as always, an enticing floral scent that clings to her and tickles my nose, reminding me of sinking into the bath with her and being even closer than this.
I can’t stop myself from dipping my head so I can smell her skin, wanting more of it, craving more.
“Fuck, angel,” I murmur. “I missed you.”
“You’ve still seen me,” she whispers back. “Since I left.”
“Yeah, but not enough. I missed you. Missed this.”
I press my lips to her shoulder, where the oversized shirt slips down to show her bare skin. Willow shivers against me and seems to melt a little into it.
“Ransom.” My name falls from her lips again, breathy and quiet.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp. If one of us is going to bring us back from the brink of madness, it sure as fuck won’t be me.
But she doesn’t tell me to stop. She doesn’t say anything, so I keep going.
I drag my tongue over her shoulder, tasting the smooth, clean expanse of her skin. I grip her sides and then slide my hands up, finding the curves of her breasts through the fabric of the shirt she’s wearing.
She’s not wearing a bra, and I heft the softness of her tits, brushing my thumbs over her nipples until they’re hard and peaked, poking out through the shirt.
Willow squirms against me, whimpering softly. “That feels… good…”
My heart is practically racing now, urging me to keep going, to keep playing with her because it’s what we both want.
I give in to that urge and drag one hand down, finding the waistband of her shorts. It’s easy to slip my hand inside, and the heat there is incredible.
My finger slips into her pussy, and Willow groans, bucking against me as she grips my shoulders tightly.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re so wet. I missed this too, pretty girl.”
I missed every-fucking-thing about her.
And now I’m gonna show her just how much.