Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COLTON
I rap on the door and wait. Nothing.
Goddammit.
I balance the two coffees in one hand, then knock with my knuckles this time, because I know they’re already up. Sebastian is like a fucking rooster, awake and complaining about the day as soon as the sun is up. I stare at the door.
Nothing.
I let out a breath, then reach for the keycard tucked in the pocket of my jeans and open the door. I knock again as I step inside, because as much as I joke about it, I’m not sure I actually want to catch them with their pants down when I’m not invited.
That would just be fucking awkward.
“Yo! Rise and shine, lovenest!” I shout through the suite, making my way over to set Leena’s and my drinks down on the coffee table.
“Colton?” a sleepy Leena groans, drawing out my name from the bedroom, her voice muffled. “Did you bring me coffee?”
“Did you stay up way too fucking late?” I ask, smirking as I walk over to lean against the doorway between the two rooms. And… she’s naked.
Leena is alone in her bed, naked.
Well, at least I think she is. She’s lying on her stomach, face first into a pillow, and thankfully, her ass is covered by the blanket. But it doesn’t hide the view of her bare back. Fuck.
I stare for a moment, wondering why she didn’t bother covering up before I came in here. So, she’s confident.
Fine.
That’s fine.
“Yes, we stayed up too late, and the guys still went to the gym this morning because they’re fucking insane. Did you bring me coffee?” She moans again. I force my gaze upward so I don’t have to look at how goddamn soft my boss looks in that bed. My eyes trail up, finding their way to the railing above the door.
Holy fuck.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.
“Colt?” she says again and I have to shake my head to bring myself back from the rampage of thoughts my mind just started bulldozing through.
I take a breath, trying to keep my voice steady.
Trying to ignore the fact that there’s a goddamn pair of handcuffs draped over that fucking rail.
Handcuffs.
Fuck. Me.
“Of course I brought you coffee,” I say, narrowing my eyes and reaching up to retrieve them.
They’re real.
Of fucking course they are.
I slide them into my back pocket.
“Bring it to me?” she says lazily.
Nope. I’m not going anywhere near my best friends’ woman when her shirt is off and now that I know… handcuffs.
Fuck.
I know this can’t possibly be a real relationship, the guys don’t do that. I also know she has to be into some sort of kinky shit to wind up with Sebastian and Luke. But I don’t think having it confirmed helps with this ridiculous obsession I have with her.
“No way, boss lady. Get your ass out here. We have to leave in like an hour anyway,” I tell her, then slide the door closed so she can go find some goddamn clothes.
It’s no more than two minutes later when the door slides back open and Leena drags herself over to sit cross legged on the couch facing me. I turn, matching her position.
Her long, black hair is in a no-nonsense bun on top of her head, she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants that have to be Luke’s and a T-shirt so large it can only be Sebastian’s.
She stares blankly at me, half asleep. I smile, then reach over, grabbing her coffee off the table and handing it to her. She takes it, holding it with both hands and looking down like she’s about to cry tears of joy over the delicate little treasure.
I can’t help my snicker.
She’s done something similar every morning this entire week, but today is definitely on a whole other level.
Leena always says the hotel coffee tastes like fucking mud, and I don’t disagree. Whenever we’re away on ops, I make it a point to find whatever little cafe in the area has the best reviews and wake up early in the mornings so I can bring her something. Ever since she moved back with the guys, this has been our routine.
“Thank you,” she whispers before taking a sip. “Whose turn is it?” Her big eyes look up at me.
“Yours,” I say, still smiling.
She thinks for a moment. “Okay. Fifteen. Go.”
This game… I chuckle.
“God, let’s see. When I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school, I decided to grow my hair out for the first time. But I didn’t want to fix it or pull it back, so it was just in my face all the fucking time.” Leena laughs and I smile at how much she enjoys this little game. “Hmm… Oh! There was this guy who always dressed up as a hot dog at football games.”
“What?” She nearly snorts.
“Dead serious. Full-on, head to toe, hot dog costume. It was the weirdest fucking thing. One time he brought a whole case of hot dogs, and he would just hand them out to people casually when they walked by him. He wouldn’t even heat them up, they were just raw fucking weiners.” I’m nearly crying now.
“How the fuck do you remember this shit?” She laughs.
“Hey, high school was a memorable time. I was the kid who got bad grades on purpose, but was friends with fucking everyone. I went to every school event, hung out at skateparks and went to parties every weekend. I just wanted to stay out of the fucking house,” I tell her.
“Because of your dad?” she assumes, because we’ve talked a little about this before.
“Yeah. That was actually the last year I let him hit me. One day, I just had enough of it. I packed a bag, stayed with friends and never came home. He didn’t stop me. I think he was too afraid I would tell someone what he did and he couldn’t risk losing his fancy lawyer gig. Someone had to defend all the low-lifes.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“I’m sorry, Colt. No one should treat another person that way, let alone a father to his son. And I get it. I was sixteen,” she says, fidgeting with the heat sleeve on her cup.
“Sixteen?” I ask, confused. Her eyes meet mine.
“When I left home. My father didn’t hit me, he was just never around. There was always something more important going on with the Deck. I resented him for that, sure, but then I started dating a guy from the King of Hearts, because well, he was around. I heard stories from him about what my father was doing. About the people he’d killed… tortured. I think I always just assumed my father was the good guy in all of it, because he kept me and my sister, Kat, away from the worst of it. He even gave us my mother’s maiden name, Hart, when we were born to protect us. But once I started getting kidnapped, I just got so… angry. My captors were never nice people. Even though my father always paid the ransom, by the time he got around to coming for me, they had already chipped away at another piece of who I wanted to be. I couldn’t ignore what those experiences taught me about the world I was born into. I didn’t want any part of it and he wasn’t protecting me, neither was mom. So, I left. I didn’t take a penny from that man, and I never will. So I understand. It’s not easy being on your own at that age.”
I stare at her, shocked.
She was kidnapped more than once?
She left home at sixteen, only a year older than I was.
All these months of knowing this woman, of talking to her over our morning coffees, how did I not know about any of this?
“How many times were you taken?” I ask, because I have to. I suddenly feel this protective urge to fucking murder the entire Deck for this woman.
“Umm..” She thinks for a moment.
She has to think about that? I set my cup down on the table so I don’t crush it in my fucking hands.
“Five times before I was sixteen, but there were some unsuccessful attempts too. Most of the time, they just held me in a car, questioned me for hours, or put me in a room until my father paid up. But there was one time, the last time, that I could hear what they were doing to other prisoners. That was the final straw for me. Knowing what my father did was one thing, but hearing it ? I was done. After that, it was just a lot of threats, vandalism… they even set fire to my apartment once when I was at work. Then I was shot at the coffee shop, you know that story,” she says, because I do.
My eyes flicker down to where she subconsciously touches the scar she probably has from it on her side, and I stare at this woman in disbelief. The way she carries herself, her joy, her confidence, you would never fucking know what she went through.
She’s an amazing person, an incredible boss and friend, and there’s no doubt she keeps the team together. But here I thought she was a spoiled daughter of the Deck who could afford to pay her way into my friend’s business, but she isn’t. She didn’t.
“Then I was taken again five months ago. They were a little rough, but it wasn’t bad. The guys found me before it got bad,” she says, looking up at me with so much adoration for the men who saved her. I might adore them too for that. I guess it makes sense why she would stick with them.
“You shouldn’t have had to go through all that. I’m sorry, Leena,” I say genuinely.
“We all have scars, Colton.” She smiles.
She fucking smiles.
And for some goddamn reason, I smile back.
“Yeah, we do.”