Chapter 7
Loreena
Pinpricks of light flash behind my closed eyes. I slowly become aware that they’re there, which means that I’m conscious. My eyelids are heavy, and my head feels sluggish. My brain doesn’t want to give any commands to my body. I must have gone to bed late last night.
The weight of the cats is warm and heavy on my legs.
I should get up, make coffee, take a shower, feed the cats, and change their litter before I need to start work.
If I don’t check my emails early, it never fails to be a disaster.
It’s not unusual for me to get calls if I’m even a few minutes late, with demanding clients who are hot and hyped up enough to immediately launch into things that they assume I already know.
My bed is so soft and I’m so tired, though.
I snuggle deeper into the blanket, tugging it over my face, but I jerk back and my eyes fly open when I realize how wrong it smells.
Last night comes back to me with the ferocity of a brick wall hitting me right in the face.
The blanket smells wrong because I’m not in my bed.
The weight of the cats on my legs is the only right thing, but even that’s only because I instructed Maverick to go and get them before I took those sleeping pills.
They didn’t take as long to work as I thought they might, and holy shit, did they ever knock me out.
The light pouring in through the three small basement windows stabs my retinas in the worst way, but I flick them around the room anyway.
It’s mostly concrete, which would be scary except for the nice furniture arranged throughout the open space and all the light.
This has to be Maverick’s cousin’s house.
I don’t know that he’d have anywhere else to take me.
The bed is pushed up against one side of the room and there’s a large desk across from it with a gaming style office chair pushed in.
A long leather couch bisects the open room and beside that is a large recliner.
Aside from that, it’s pretty empty down here.
I do note that the window ledges have plants sitting on them.
Footsteps sound above, then a door creaks open and shuts. Those steps echo down wooden stairs, the thuds hollow.
I know that there’s something wrong with my brain, but there’s really something wrong with it now.
The sight of Maverick coming down the stairs and walking across the room towards a duffel bag on the far side that I didn’t notice before, is definitely going to break whatever circuitry I still have going for me.
My eyes fix squarely on the baby blue towel that’s slung around his waist. It’s riding low on his hips.
It’s no bath sheet, and it’s a tenuous stretch to wrap around all that muscle.
His abs are perfectly defined, thick and blocky, stacked like a perfect ladder above a prominent V.
His pecs stand out, but it’s his shoulders that hold my attention.
They’re built, stacked with muscle. His arms are the same, with corded veins running their length.
A light smattering of hair circles his navel and trails down into the towel.
I manage to rasp a shaky breath in so that my lungs don’t implode.
I realize just how good the whole basement smells now that it’s flooded with Maverick’s scent.
Cedar with a new, sharp citrus tang since he’s fresh out of the shower.
So fresh that beads of water actually cling to his shoulders and all those delicious muscles.
I felt how strong he was last night, when he carried me like I weighed nothing, but the evidence of the power in his body is right there on display with every movement he makes.
My lips burn as I remember that kiss. For that moment, he was all I knew, my senses overwhelmed by him. It’s not just my mouth that throbs with the memory. The rest of me joins in. My body heats up and my face follows.
As my luck usually goes, Maverick spins around and notices that I’m awake right as I lick my bottom lip.
Because it’s dry.
But I know what that must look like while I’m ogling his mostly naked form. I’d freak out if I caught him doing that to me. I’d be humiliated.
Or turned on. So, so fucking turned on.
I clasp my thighs together under the blanket as Maverick stumbles back a step. He throws out a hand against the concrete wall to catch himself.
“Shit!”
I roll my eyes to try and gain some composure. I throw my palm up to my forehead too, wincing like my head hurts from being drugged. “Yeah, well, now we’re even on the jump scare front.”
He gapes at me. And gapes. And then slowly, his hands cross in front of his waist and secure the short little towel, even though it hasn’t slipped. Amazingly, his face turns red. Probably as red as mine is.
I flick my eyes up to the plants. “Some of those are toxic for cats. They haven’t got to them yet, but they probably will try. At the very least, they’d knock them down and you’d have quite a mess.”
“I can take them upstairs.”
He snatches up the duffel and loops the strap over his naked shoulder.
His muscles ripple when he walks. I’m so tempted to keep staring right at him, but I force myself to make eye contact.
At least until he starts getting plants down.
He fits all eight pots in his arms. It’s quite a feat of balance.
His back muscles should get an award for starring in the show they gave me.
“I’ll be right back. Uh, do you want coffee?”
“I’m a coffee snob.” I rub my eyes. They feel heavy, though no longer grainy. The Maverick Show in front of me took care of that issue. My mouth is parched too. No shit, it is. “Cancel that. I’ll drink whatever it is on offer. If you don’t have cream, that’s fine. I’ll take it black.”
He makes a face like he wants to hold up a hand and do gestures with it, including asking me how I’m really doing, but he has his arms full of plants and a heavy duffel on his shoulder.
He looks at me, at the plants, at the cats on the bed, at the floor, then back at me. His face has gone red again.
It’s adorable.
No. I can’t think things like that. Noticing Maverick’s killer body is one thing.
It’s kind of naked right in front of me and he’s a work of living artistry, but endearment, intimacy, and any sort of warm rush in the feelings department is off limits.
I tried to cut it off before because I knew that my life wouldn’t be fair to anyone.
This right here? This isn’t just a different can of worms. It’s the whole fucking four gallon bucket.
“Your bag is right by the couch. All the cats’ stuff is over there.
I brought them their food and their dishes.
I thought they might not eat if they didn’t have their familiar bowls.
I put your laptop and your phone on your bag.
Oh, and I brought the chargers for everything.
I realized when I was already just out of Seattle, that I didn’t bring any cat toys.
I’ll have to go out and get those. Or rush delivery order them to the house?
” He’s rambling. The red is staining his neck now.
“One other thing. My cousin doesn’t know that you’re here. ”
“Ahh,” I say, drawing out the sound. “I see.”
Maverick’s eyes narrow in a way that makes them both dangerous and sexy enough to be borderline swoony.
I might be trying not to notice, but I’m noticing.
I don’t want to think that noticing is better than stressing about the major clusterfuck that this is probably going to be.
Just because I’m not panicking yet, doesn’t mean that it’s not going to happen.
Worst case scenario… No. I don’t want to think about the worst. I’m so fucking tired of doing that.
Best case is that Maverick’s cousin is chill and he gets it, and lets me stay. Alright, fuck, worst case is that Maverick drugs me, puts me and the cats back in the truck with our bags, and drives me straight back to the apartment.
To everything familiar.
To my not so gilded cage.
“Are you okay, Loreena?”
There’s my name again, rolling off his tongue like a velvet purr. Like he’s a giant cat that with feeding and petting, good food, care, and good love, would trust and arch and—
Wowwwww. All the wow. He’s no cat. He’s a man who did ten years of time and at the first chance he got, committed a bunch of serious felonies.
I don’t know if I should wish that my snarky inner thoughts would shut up and go away. At least they’re covering up what’s usually banging around my skull. They might be berating me, but they’re much kinder thoughts than they usually are, and they’re tinged with almost no panic.
Probably because the sleeping pills are still dulling my nervous system.
Although, I can’t say that I’ve tried any medication that has actually worked.
But last night, there was significantly less panic than there should have been.
It’s in my nature to be a fixer. I know, it’s ironic given that I haven’t been able to fix myself.
I was always that person before, and it didn’t die in me just because I locked myself in an apartment.
When it comes to my clients, I put in long hours trying to make sure that they go away happy and their problems are taken care of.
Before my parents basically stopped talking to me, I could tell how upset my mom was, and I tried my best to assure her, even though I was the one in need of assurance.
I didn’t go through trauma alone. That attack didn’t just happen to me.
I give Maverick the only answer I can, but at least it’s honest. “Right now. I’m doing as well as I could have expected.”
“I’ll be back in ten,” he promises.
While he’s gone, I take the opportunity to get out of bed.
I’m still in my pajamas. There doesn’t appear to be a bathroom down here.
I don’t have to pee yet anyway. I change into a pair of leggings, a camisole, and an oversized knit sweater.
My face goes red hot when I see that Maverick included a generous amount of bras and panties in the side pouch of the bag.
Everything is folded, from my underwear to my clothes.
He actually was able to fit quite a bit in here, but I only own one suitcase.
It’s obviously been unused. I ordered it years ago, in a fit of inspiration.
My mom had this idea that if I had some kind of vacation to look forward to, I could just manifest getting better for it.
It was early days, when we both still held out hope for things like that.
I brush my hair out and tug it back into a low ponytail. I’m too rough, thinking about my parents’ agonized faces. I know they still care, but I can’t even remember the last time they called or checked in. I’d have to go through my texts to find the date and time stamp.
My cosmetic bag has a collection of makeup, my toothbrush, toothpaste, and face serum. Maverick didn’t have to pack that. It was ready to go.
I take out my laptop, walk over to the desk, and get it set up. I put my phone beside it, but it’s powered off and I don’t turn it on. I feed the cats first, filling up their bowls with their hard food and adding half a can of wet food to the top of each one.
Pumpkin and Sprite both come running. They don’t seem to mind being in a new place. No one hid under the couch or the bed or tried to get into a corner, all hunched up and frightened.
They chow down with the same hearty appetites as ever.
I notice a big bowl of water set out beside the couch and can’t help but smile.
When someone shows love for someone else’s pets, it means a lot.
So, because he watered the cats, you can just ignore that he freaking kidnapped you?
Noble intentions don’t excuse anything. I know that. I don’t want to get into an inner battle with myself about all the gray areas of life right now. I have emails to answer.
I’m busy doing that when Maverick returns. He walks right up to the desk and sets down a large mug that smells shockingly divine. The whipped foam at the top jiggles and ripples.
“Sorry. It took me a few extra minutes to figure out the coffee machine. I haven’t used it before. I guess Scythe likes fancy drinks.”
“Scythe?”
“Yeah. That’s his club name.”
As if he heard his name all the way upstairs, the door bangs open and an older, tattooed, burly, leather clad man who doesn’t look the least bit like Maverick, stalks through the basement. He’s throwing off some clearly hostile vibes, but none of it is directed at me.
“Oh, no,” he growls thunderously, stabbing a finger in Maverick’s direction. “This is not happening.”
“What’s not happening?” Maverick asks. He doesn’t look the least bit rattled or guilty. He actually raises his mug and slowly sips the hot coffee. When he pulls the mug away, there’s a white line of foam on his upper lip.
I don’t want to lick it off of him. I really don’t.
“I know you, Maverick. You might not think that I do, but I fucking do. You haven’t changed one bit.
Always trying to save the world. This is the woman you told me about.
Your pen pal. The one you were so desperate to find a way to try to help.
You brought her here, and I’m going to guess it wasn’t willingly. ”
Maverick’s eyes travel to me. The cats keep munching their breakfast happily enough. “Does she look unwilling to you?” Scythe’s face turns an ominous shade of red. Before he can blow up, Maverick points to the cats. “Shh. Don’t scare the kitties. If you yell, you’ll make everyone uncomfortable.”
I’ve never seen anyone look as exasperated as Maverick’s poor cousin. Despite his badass appearance, he has soft eyes and probably a good soul. “I’m not gonna yell. But we are gonna talk about this. All three of us. Upstairs.”
“I- I’m not sure that I’d like to go upstairs yet,” I whisper.
I don’t know when or if the panic will set in.
I’m in a house. It’s not mine, but it is a house.
It’s safe. I’m safe. Windows have never been a problem for me, but I haven’t looked out of one that wasn’t my apartment’s in years. I don’t know how I’ll react.
Then again, I will have to pee eventually, especially after this coffee, and I’d really like to brush my teeth before we have this out.
I’d like to do some having it out of my own.
“Can you give me twenty minutes?” That should be enough time to get the most important of my emails read and responded to.
Scythe lets out an even longer sigh, but I know that it’s for Maverick’s benefit as well. He nods tightly at me and scowls at his cousin. “Sure. See you both in twenty.”