Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Regi
I bolted upright and sat in the dark for a long minute, trying to calm my racing heart and clear away the nightmare that plagued me again.
It had been years since I’d dreamed of that horrible night, but in the past three days—the same damn one seemed to carve a piece out of me every time I closed my eyes.
Finally, I lay back down and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It read ten after six. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, its soft glow seeping through the sheer curtains and the partially open bifold slats on the window.
I’m alive. I’m safe. I’m here. My body relaxed, yet my mind wouldn’t follow—too restless, too afraid to drift back into the nightmare that woke me.
I stayed to my room, only coming out at night—after I knew the boys had gone to bed—or whatever they did after dark?—
Don’t think about them in bed, Regi.
Too late. My nether region did remember and it began to ache. I let out a silent groan of need and frustration. I couldn’t get the picture of them sixty-nineing out of my head. That was the real reason I kept my distance—to avoid talking or looking at Krew and Decker—especially them together.
I still couldn’t get over the fact that I saw them having sex. While I watched! And got off at the same time, too!
I had to think—clear my head. Between everything that happened and all I’d learned from the time the guys grabbed me from my apartment to now, I’d been bombarded with conflicting emotions and information.
Decker was a hitman. Someone who killed for money. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact this Decker Moss worked in the underbelly of society. He wasn’t the person I remembered.
And the idea of killers searching for Krew and me—that someone was willing to pay a lot of money to have us murdered…
It sounded too bizarre to be true. I was a stylist, working in a high-end salon.
I did hair for God’s sake. I didn’t hang with anyone other than Maya. I was a homebody. I didn’t go out.
And Krew… Actually, I didn’t know what Krew did for a job. Was fighting his thing? Or did he work elsewhere?
Then there was Decker’s female friend, Sabrina. He called her his handler and she called him bossman, which he hated that title. She had said the real targets were Maya and Jess.
That last piece of detail actually explained some things, which happened a few days before the fight.
Like how Maya had packed a much bigger bag than she usually did for her overnight stays with Jess.
Or how she had mimicked my hair cut and color.
And let’s not forget how I found the front door to our apartment wide open at the crack of dawn the morning after the fight.
Could all this be coincidental? Was Maya innocent in all this?
I slowly got up, went to the door of my room and leaned in. Putting my ear to the wood, I listened for any voices, moans or footsteps. All I heard was the silence of the house.
Phew! I really needed to go. Having to time my trips to the bathroom to avoid the guys was the hardest part of my self-imposed isolation.
I opened the door, and immediately stepped back, surprised to see Krew standing in the doorway of his room. He looked… tired, maybe dejected. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders slumped. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I stayed silent.
“I made breakfast,” he eventually said before he turned away from me.
“Thanks,” I said, finally discovering who was making food and leaving it in the fridge.
As much as I wanted to reach for him, I refrained from moving.
I couldn’t. Even after what we shared in the motel room back in Chicago—which I saw now was wrong of me to initiate—I still couldn’t look at Krew and not see his brother.
Just as his door was about to close, shutting him away from me, his name flew out of my mouth. “Krew?”
The wash of emotion in his tired eyes had my heart lurching. And yet, my feet remained firmly anchored to the floor boards, as conflict warred within me.
“I truly do appreciate that you took the time to cook for me… and Decker.” Which was true. There were usually two plates in the fridge.
He rubbed at his eyes before looking tiredly at me. “It was my pleasure. And I don’t mind.” Krew’s voice cracked.
He was about to close the door when I slipped into the hallway.
“Can I do anything for you?” I narrowed the gap between us a little more and hoped he wouldn’t close the door in my face.
The dim bulb overhead cast a yellowish hue on Krew’s skin.
Dark circles framed his eyes—no doubt he hadn’t slept in days, or at least not well.
He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
“Are you?” Why did I have the feeling Decker was the cause of Krew’s wounded expression?
Between the two men, Decker had always been the hothead. His mouth worked faster than his brain. He had a knack for shoving his big fat foot right into it—especially when things didn’t go his way. A lot about Decker might’ve changed, but I doubted that had.
Krew, on the other hand, was the thinker—always processing before he reacted to a situation, even on the simplest matters.
If I had to sum them up, they were the yin and the yang. Or maybe they were at one time, and I was completely off. Granted, I hadn’t exactly taken the time to figure out who they were now.
“Don’t worry about it, Regi.” His words snapped me out of my thoughts. Krew dropped his attention to the floor. “Remember, we aren’t your problem.”
Ouch. That hurt .
Krew’s withdrawal unsettled me in ways I couldn’t describe. While I was pissed at being put in this position, he was also a target. Furthermore, he didn’t deserve my wrath for being biologically linked to my rapist. No matter how hard it was for me to look at him straight in the eyes.
His dejection was killing my insides and my internal struggle to remain distant cracked.
Krew turned his back to me, closing the door between us.
“Please,” I whimpered, not sure what I wanted to say to him. Apologize? But not to his retreating back. When I placed my hand on his bicep, he stiffened like a board, as though my touch was poison. “Sorry.” I pulled my hand away.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s just that… I thought you hated us—hated me.” He looked over his shoulder and the truth of his words slashed another protective layer from my heart.
“I don’t hate you, Krew—never could hate you.” Which was the truth. “It’s just that…” How did I explain this to him without divulging what had happened to me?
Your brother did…
I quickly shook off the horrid memory edging into my mind. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to bring up the past—not right now. Maybe not ever.
“Just what, Regi? You locked yourself in that bedroom—avoided me and Deck, like we’re the fucking plague.
And now you want to talk to me—hell you can’t even look me in the eyes.
” He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, his breath fanning across my face.
Still, I couldn’t look at him. “Talk to me,” he rasped out in desperation.
I automatically stepped back from the ire lacing his words. I tried to ignore the sickening sensation rising in my stomach and the panic choking the breath out of me, but I was losing control of this situation.
He’s not Teke. He’s not Teke. I kept reminding myself of this fact over and over again.
“Regi.” Krew’s voice dropped to a low timbre, commanding, and I quickly dropped my eyes down to the floor. He didn’t need to see the pain I used as a Teflon shield. “Look at me, damn it.”
I couldn’t deny him any longer. As my eyes traveled back to his handsome face, I silently appreciated his body.
Even back then, Krew was tall and had muscles from the hard work his father made him do at the feed store after school.
I used to love touching them whenever he flexed his arm.
The way his body was now molded to utter perfection, and the power it held within scared me.
This is Krew—not that asshole .
When my eyes met his, I homed in first on the amber hue of his left eye, then on the hazel of his right, and finally on the tiny patch of brown in that same eye, like a fleck of earth in a storm. How had I forgotten about Krew’s heterochromia? I’d been so focused on the amber?—
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He cupped my face gently.
My body went liquid against him. This was one of the men who had my heart, and I shouldn’t be afraid of him. Krew might be the one who deserved to be held right now, but it was me who needed his touch.
“Krew, kiss me,” I whispered. I was desperate to drown in his warmth—fill myself up with only him.
Eager to erase the apprehension that was slicing into my conscious mind, I didn’t give him time to debate, or myself a moment to get mired in the past. I leaned in and kissed his lips, taking the initiative before I chickened out.
Krew was a solid presence, like a brick wall. Sturdy, reliable, but also comforting. When I pulled back, a fleeting look of concern raced across his face, and I wanted to relieve him of it. “Krew.”
“Are you sure?” he questioned, more insistent than before.
“Yes.” I didn’t falter. The verifiable truth was that I still loved him—even after all this time—even after my past trauma. I wanted Krew—I was hard up for his love, and his giving, gentle nature.
Krew didn’t waver, he picked me up and slammed his mouth on mine with ravenous hunger. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“I missed you so much,” I admitted against his kiss, not regretting my declaration.
He tightened his hold, as his talented tongue delved deeper into my mouth like he was claiming ownership.
The solid rod grinding against my pussy sent a jolt of need straight to my core. I was giddy—no, drunk on the idea that Krew was as desperate as I was.