Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
J
Finn’s eyes hook right into me, like two spears plunging straight through my chest. His brow tightens.
For a moment, there’s stillness in the hospital room.
I hold my breath, wondering what will happen next.
To my surprise, Finn grabs my hand and yanks me toward the bed again. I flop against the side of the cot, and my watch beeps.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” Finn hisses, his eyes searching mine. There’s a flash of darkness in them. Something primal and dangerous.
I’m not even sure if he’s aware of it—that monster inside.
“Y-yes,” I say quietly. “I know who you are.”
His hold on me tightens, fingers burning into my skin.
I stare into his face, which looks absolutely unreal.
His hair is soft and silky. Monolid eyes, sharp and smoldering.
His eyebrows are black and thick, almost too thick.
But they fit the rest of his strong, angular features.
His jaw is sharp enough to replace a surgeon’s knife and his lips…
My watch beeps.
I avert my eyes from his mouth.
The one thing I hadn’t accounted for was how stunning The King’s bass player is in person. His princely good looks and that mysterious air draw you in like an impossible puzzle you want to put together.
I can see why girls would want to jump him.
I’ll admit. I’m momentarily shaken.
But attractive guys are not in my good books at the moment. Shawn was a looker too, and he ended up being a flaming pile of feces.
“You’re… Finn Cross,” I continue softly.
His nostrils flare as if he’s losing his patience.
“A-a member of The Kings…”
The fingers around my wrist constrict and make me wince.
“… My favorite band.”
Finn’s eyes widen. At once, he releases my hand and leans away from me like I threw a bomb at him. I massage my arm, noting the imprint of his fingers on my skin.
He’s powerful, damaging.
And unaware of it.
This could get dangerous.
A glance down at my watch reveals that my pulse is quickening.
Deep breaths, J.
I’m exactly who Finn thinks I am, but it’s not time for him to know that yet. The game is only just beginning.
“My band, huh?” Finn’s voice cracks with disbelief. “So you know Dutch…?”
I nod. “He plays guitar.”
Oh, that’s scratching the surface.
I know all about Dutch Cross and his darkness. His possessiveness. His anger. And his obsession with Cadence Cooper.
I know that he kept following her around when Cadence was disguised as “Redhead.” I know he went insane thinking he was falling in love with two girls when they were the same person. And I know he’s going insane now that she’s gone.
“… you know Zane,” Finn whispers.
“I follow him on social media,” I say easily.
What I know about Zane is not on his social media accounts. Not even Zane Cross would get away with it if the world at large knew his filthy deeds. Especially the ones involving Grace Jamieson.
I know he had an accidental one-night stand with her. I know she pushed him off after she found out he was her student, and he kept chasing her, cornering her in empty classrooms, making her groan in the stillness when he thought no one was around.
And then he married her because it wasn’t enough to have a forbidden relationship. He needed to make it a forbidden marriage too.
“And me.” Finn’s voice is barely above a whisper. “You know me.”
Yes, I know Finn.
I know what he wants.
I know who he wants.
And I can’t let him have it. At least, not until I get what I want first.
So I blink innocently as his brown eyes consume me. More than that. They’re taking me apart. He’s trying to figure me out. I can hear his brain whirring behind that beautiful, expressionless face.
I’m not surprised he put the dots together so quickly. Someone who was able to crack my near impenetrable firewall would pay attention to the details.
“Why did you bring me to your room?” Finn asks, eyes sharper than a blade.
His tone is frosty now that he thinks I’m a fan. It’s in line with what I know of him. Finn Cross has no interest in all the bounties that come with fame—the gifts, the accolades, the women. Especially the women. He has the least romantic scandals recorded in the app.
“It was faster than putting you on an elevator back to the emergency room,” I answer.
He folds his arms over his chest, his jaw tight.
I continue to massage my wrist. “You do realize you have a concussion, don’t you? You shouldn’t have been standing in the first place.”
He winces. Then he shakes his head. “Are you insinuating you saved me?”
“The doctors saved you. I just let you use my suite.”
He notices that I’m still massaging my arm. “Did I hurt you?”
I look down at the bruises and then at my watch. With a deep breath, I take two big steps, grab him by the collar, and plant my mouth on his.
Finn is such a stern, hard person, so I expect his mouth to be as unbending as he is. But his lips are softer than expected.
I release him and then run my arm over my mouth, scrubbing. “Blegh.”
“The hell is wrong with you?” He covers his mouth with a hand, looking outraged.
“You manhandle me. I manhandle you. Now we’re even.” I finish rubbing the taste of him off my lips and check my watch again.
No beeping this time.
That’s more like it.
“You’re insane.”
Breezily, I walk to my desk and take a seat. “You think so? I always wondered if I should get diagnosed. The psych ward is right there. It would be so easy to see someone.”
I’m not looking behind me, but I can feel the horror from Finn like nuclear waves after a bomb explosion. A moment later, I hear him shuffling around.
When I turn, I catch Finn making a run for it. It’s almost funny—a guy that broad-shouldered, tall, and commanding, desperately pushing the wheeled apparatus carrying his IV line to the door.
He won’t get far. I didn’t bring him here just to let him leave so easily.
Casually, I announce, “You sure you want to go?”
He pretends not to hear me.
“Leave and you won’t find Miss Jamieson and Cadence.”
The wheels that had been squeaking go silent.
And then I hear the pfft of Finn ripping the needle out of his vein and the plastic tube hitting the floor. In three quick breaths, my chair whips around, and a six-foot-four menace of a boy arches over me, his nostrils flaring like a bull.
Strands of pitch-black hair fall into flaming onyx eyes, and his chest pumps up and down. He looks gorgeously unhinged.
And I can’t say it doesn’t make me a little nervous.
“What did you say?” Finn doesn’t yell the words. Like the instrument he plays, his voice is low and vibrating.
My watch beeps.
I ignore it and keep my tone steady. “Zane… put out a video asking fans for information. I’ve been working on an algorithm to find them ever since.”
The chair creaks as he pushes it back even farther. My feet rise off the floor, and one of my hospital slippers flops off, leaving my toes bare.
“You’re a programmer?” Finn grinds out through his teeth.
“I dabble.”
Understatement of the year.
He snorts in disbelief.
“Is that a crime?” I taunt.
He glowers at me, his eyes stabbing me over and over again. If Finn Cross suddenly sprouted fangs from either side of his gums, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.
My watch makes a warning sound. I don’t need to look down to know that yellow is taking over the watch face.
“Put me down, and I’ll show you what I can do,” I whisper.
For a beat, Finn doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’ll toss me and the chair into the wall. His jaw muscles bend and contract like aliens trying to break free of their eggs.
I thought he was the quiet, restrained one.
I was wrong.
He’s just the one who hid his monster the best.
“I said put me down.” I repeat myself more clearly.
His fingers tighten on my chair instead, and I teeter back even farther.
I may be blonde, but I’m not like the “dumb blonde” stereotypes in horror films. I definitely wouldn’t just stand there while ghosts crawl out of television screens.
I take my elbow and ram it straight into the bandages around Finn’s ribs. He grunts and releases my chair. Gravity sucks me down like a tornado. I scramble to grab the desk and regain my balance, narrowly managing to avoid crashing to the floor.
Finn glares at me as he slings an arm over his midsection.
I have an answering dirty eye for him.
“Let’s at least pretend to be civilized, hm?” I brush my hair down, pull the chair closer to my computer, and open a terminal.
Finn hovers over my shoulder, watching my every move. My fingers tap-tap-tap on the keyboard at a slow pace. On any other day, I’d type like the hospital is on fire, but I’m painfully aware of the dragon breathing down my neck. I tap the wrong sequence by mistake, and an error message comes up.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Finn grinds out.
“If you’d give me some room, I’d be able to concentrate,” I snap.
Finn straightens slowly. “You better pray to God that you’re not messing with me and my family.”
That’s exactly what I’m doing. “Or what? You’re going to kill me?”
He gives me a blank stare and my watch flares yellow as my pulse jumps.
Something tells me that I don’t want the answer to that question.