19. Christian
CHRISTIAN
I ’ve never been an irrational man.
In my line of work, it’s important to remain calm. Have a clear head in case shit goes south.
Right now?
I’m wishing there wasn’t a pane of glass separating me from putting a bullet in Collin’s head.
There’s nothing wrong with Collin in particular. He’s worked for my father for two years now, and I’ve never had an issue with him. He helped me handle my little Jerry problem back in Wichita, and he’s always done right by my family.
Right now, though?
I’ve never hated the kid until I saw Mila smile at him.
Standing at the window of my lighthouse office, I can see him, Mila, and Phantom in the front yard. Collin tosses a stick, and Phantom bounces after it. Mila laughs.
This morning floods back like a fucking tsunami, and just like that, my cock’s rock fucking hard in my jeans all over again.
I’ve jerked off twice in the three hours since then, and yet, it feels like I’ve done nothing but play some kind of painfully masochistic game of edging.
The way she ground against my cock, silently begging me to keep going. Her teeth in my neck. The fire in her eyes when she told me to shut up. The neediness in her voice when she growled my name.
My fucking name. Not any other goddamn man on this planet. Not Collin’s. Mine.
She doesn’t smile at you, though.
I shake my head, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of my flannel and lighting one up. I’ve been trying to cut back—you know, health and all—but after this morning, health can suck a dick.
The only thing that stopped me from canceling Rudy and Paulina’s visit and dragging her up to the bed to make her come until she spilled every one of her secrets was the knowledge that she wasn’t ready. The fear in her eyes when I found her last night in the midst of her nightmare and the trust this morning when she ground on my cock.
Like she knew I wouldn’t push her past her limits. Like I was giving her back a piece of her soul that was stolen from her.
I raise the cigarette back to my lips, and I swear I can smell her honey and vanilla on my skin, clouding my judgment and spreading her fucking sunshine all over my island.
Collin tosses the ball, and Phantom takes off after it. Mila laughs, turning that megawatt smile on him.
Then she reaches out and touches his arm.
I may or may not be reaching for my gun when Paulina enters the room behind me.
Fuck the window. I’ll buy a new one.
“None of that.”
I drop my hand, clenching my fist in my pocket instead. “Why is she smiling at him like that?”
Paulina steps up to the window, looking past me to the scene below with a gentle smile.
“Seems she finds him funny.”
“He’s not fucking funny,” I murmur under my breath.
“You cannot shoot your employee for making her laugh, I’m afraid.”
On the contrary, I could . I just have to be willing to pay the consequences, and weighing out my options right now, it doesn’t seem like it’s all that bad of an idea.
“A word of advice, if I may?”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
She ignores my comment and nods past me to the window.
“If you want her to smile at you , I would suggest doing something with her besides kidnapping her and forcing food down her throat.”
Touché.
“I’m keeping her alive.”
“A life of fear is not a life worth living.”
“What’s she got to be afraid of?” I ask, even though I fucking know Paulina’s right to some regard. I may not have actively hurt her physically, but I know there’s a part of my girl that never forgave me for leaving, even if she doesn’t know why I did it.
There’s also the fact that she was running when I caught up to her. And then there’s the drugging and kidnapping her . . .
“What am I supposed to do with her? Braid each other’s hair and sing campfire songs?”
Paulina shrugs. “You could start with getting the girl some actual clothes. She can’t live in your sweats and giant T-shirts for the remainder of her days.”
Fuck. I like my clothes on her, though.
Paulina places her hand on my shoulder, and I grit my teeth, brushing a thumb over my lips.
“If you want her to stay , then you’ve got to give her a reason.”
“Who says I want her to stay?”
She smirks, pursing her lips.
“No one had to.”
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket. A sick sense of joy passes through me at the number on the screen.
“If you’ll excuse me. I have to take this.”
Paulina smiles, heading toward the door.
“Think about what I said.”
“Will do.”
Once she’s gone, I answer the phone, raising it to my ear. Mila smiles, and something in my chest burns hot and unpleasant in the bullet wound in my chest. I rub the spot, a plan weaving its way together in my mind.
“Hello?”
“It’s done.”
Click
I can’t help but smile to myself, knowing what’s coming. Seconds later, there’s a ping on my laptop, and I click on the incoming email, reading over the information.
And then I laugh.
I fucking laugh because if I don’t, I’ll fucking shoot someone, and Collin’s looking like the perfect target right now.
How could I have been so na?ve? Letting her run the way she did. Letting her get out of my sight?
I was a fool to think she’d actually do it. That she hadn’t been forced by some unknown hand.
Mila Carpenter is made with sunshine, whiskey, and that little bit of heroin that keeps you coming back for more.
She’d never hurt a fly . . .
Unless, of course, she thought she was saving its life in the end.
Pictures of that night flashed through my mind. The scars on her skin when I bathed her. How completely fucking demented the carvings are. Like the tattered and charred edges of humanity clinging to someone’s soul.
If I let myself think about it, really fucking think about it, I can’t contain the emotions swirling in my chest.
I can’t explain the feeling in the pit of my stomach. Rage. Bleeding, simmering, all-consuming rage that makes my hands shake, and my teeth clench to the point I worry they might shatter in my mouth.
I should have fucking been there, and then this wouldn’t have happened.
I’ve always known it was my fault. Now I have the fucking proof.
I have to make it right.
Knocking on the window, I shoot Collin a look while the smile on Mila’s face fades.
Mila glowers up at me, all pretty yellow hair and smokey gray eyes, and the hate that seems especially reserved for me.
Collin, on the other hand, gets the idea, running off to help Rudy fuck around with the old boat in the barn, his shoulders stiff.
I chuckle under my breath, raising my cigarette back to my lips.
“Not so fucking smiley now, are you, dickhead?”
Mila’s finishing the dishes from dinner while I carry in more firewood when she spots the book I’d left for her on the table. I’d had Paulina find me a copy to bring out to the island.
Rudy, Paulina, and Collin stayed for dinner, and it was the most normal this cottage has felt since the moment we arrived. Mila even laughed at something I said, which surprised the hell out of me.
Since, we’ve been operating under a fragile truce, neither of us bringing up what happened this morning.
I can’t lie and say it’s not at the forefront of my mind, though.
“What’s this?” she asks, holding it up for me to see.
I shrug. “Thought we could read it.”
“We?” she asks, puzzled. Her delicate brows knit together, her soft eyes shining in the warm glow of the cottage lighting.
“Yeah, we,” I murmur, dropping the fresh logs by the hearth. I actually wanted it for her, but the idea popped into my head after my conversation with Paulina today.
“How do we read a book together?”
“You read . . . and I listen.”
“We could take turns,” she offers, falling into a spot on the couch and tucking a blanket around her. Phantom jumps up beside her, laying his head in her lap, and bitterness slips through me.
Jealous of a fucking dog now.
I throw another log on the fire because the wind is howling outside tonight, and she’s always cold.
Clearing my throat, I don’t answer her, but I can feel her gaze on my back when I slip my flannel off.
When I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sit down beside her, Mila’s still watching me with those eyes that see right fucking through me.
“You don’t like to read.”
“I like to read, just fine,” I murmur, taking a drink. The whiskey coats the back of my throat, the burn chasing away the memory of her teeth sinking into my neck.
Fucking hell.
“It takes me a minute,” I admit through clenched teeth, my gaze trained on the fire in front of me. “Words and shit on the page get jumbled, and I have to reread it. Just easier to let you read it out loud.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her this. I’ve never told a fucking soul.
“You’re dyslexic?” Mila asks softly.
“Something like that.”
Gently, like I’m made of sharp thorns and poisonous leaves, Mila places her hand on my chest and pushes me back into the couch.
I let her because this is the first time she’s touched me on her own.
The moment I’m resting back against the cushions, she drops her hand. Picking up the book and looking over the cover.
“I’ve never read this one,” she says, her gaze flicking up to mine. “I might butcher some of the language.”
“Says the girl whose mother made sure she read Aristotle and Shakespeare.”
She blushes, rolling her eyes, but the ghost of a smile pulls on her lips.
And it’s because of me.
Eat a dick, Collin.
“You handle the asshole killing, and I’ll read the classics after dinner for us? Deal?”
I smirk, falling back into the cushions and getting comfortable.
“Deal.”