Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
AVA
Wringing my hands, I paced the room and avoided looking at the bed.
Emerson had held me through my nightmares.
The most feared mob boss in all the provinces.
A man who probably killed puppies and most definitely killed people with the same hands that had been wrapped around me when I woke.
I rubbed the space between my eyes, trying to convince myself that I’d disliked waking up to that.
To hate how safe and warm I’d been. How hard and large he’d been.
“Stop it, Ava,” I muttered, making another trail across the room. “He’s a killer who abuses women.”
But he had done nothing to me to substantiate that claim. Hadn’t laid a finger on me except…well, except his hand around my neck and the gun to my head.
Exactly, my know-it-all side huffed.
He had held me all night, though. And I couldn’t get that thought from my head unless I considered the reason for his actions.
My nightmares. I needed my meds and soon or every night would be the same.
I stopped my pacing, tilting my head as I considered how I didn’t dislike the idea of waking that way again.
Smacking myself on the forehead, I grumbled at my bad decision making and went back to pacing. The door opened, and I jumped, grabbing my chest.
“Do you people ever knock?” I asked my guard whose name was Breaker. I’d made the mistake of asking about the name, only to regret it when he told me he enjoyed the sound of bones breaking.
“No.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I asked, “What if I was changing?”
“Then I’d get a show and see what those tits look like without the shirt in the way,” he responded with a shrug.
Gaping at him, I crossed my arms to cover my chest. Maybe I should have tried squeezing into one of the smaller bras. Spilling over the edge might have been a better choice.
“You’re gross,” I groused.
“Never said I wasn’t. The boss wants to see you.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the excited butterflies in my stomach. Butterflies? Since when did I get those, and why would they swarm over the man who had kidnapped me? Ugh, I hated my confusing body sometimes.
My guard grabbed my elbow and pulled me down the hall and through the large living room, out onto the patio.
“You don’t need to pull her arm out of socket, Breaker.”
If those butterflies had annoyed me earlier, they had me eager to reach into my gut and pulverize them now.
Emerson looked too hot for someone I should hate.
He wore a black button-down shirt with the top buttons open to show his tan chest and tattoos.
His sleeves rolled partway up his forearms, exposed more tattoos and muscles that had me salivating.
The shirt rested against even more muscle, and I didn’t even want to gaze down at his pants, especially after last night.
I caught my uncouth gaping in the reflection of his sunglasses and quickly closed my mouth. With a firm yank of my arm that sent me stumbling slightly, I gave Breaker a nasty look.
“That’s cute, Ava,” Emerson said as Breaker laughed and walked away. “I think you frightened him with all that angst.”
He didn’t have to remove the glasses for me to sense his eyes graze over my body. It was like hands sliding down my skin and I moved my arm awkwardly to cover my breasts, knowing my nipples had beckoned to the call of that heated gaze.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked, staying in place.
Removing the sunglasses didn’t help my cause. His eyes were bright blue in the morning sun. I could have stood there all day drinking them in.
“Come sit down. We need to talk.”
Shit, no, we didn’t. “I’m good,” I said—a complete lie—pivoting to walk away.
“Ava.” That was not the voice of the man who had comforted me. That was the voice of a lethal killer. The one I kept warning myself was behind the tempting exterior. “Sit.”
My muscles tensed, and I debated my choices. I didn’t like being told what to do, but one glance at him let me know I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“I told you I don’t like commands,” I complained, taking a seat and thumping into it. “You want to talk, then talk.”
He slid a plate over to me and a glass of orange juice. Scrambled eggs and toast with jam.
“Do you eat anything but toast and eggs?” I asked, not moving.
“Only when I want to cook something else.”
My jaw dropped again, and I snapped it closed. “You cook?”
He gave me a smirk that had my insides melting. “Why? Am I not supposed to know how to cook?”
I gave up on my pouting when my stomach growled. Lifting the fork, I replied, “It’s just not something I would expect someone like you to do.”
Did Greyson cook? Or Riley’s brother? That Tyson guy looked entirely too large and terrifying to stand behind a stove.
“Someone like me?”
I raised my eyes, seeing the curiosity in his. Swallowing, I said, “A mob boss.” I figured it was the less messy answer.
“Hmm. I didn’t realize there were limitations on our abilities.” He took a sip of his coffee and waited for my response while he placed the mug back on the table.
The coffee smelled delicious. Not thinking, I reached over and took the mug, bringing it to my lips as his brow rose.
“Mmm,” I moaned before realizing the sound had slipped from me.
One awkward moment and one flash of desire mixed with tightened jaw muscles later, he said, “If you wanted coffee, I could have gotten you a cup.”
My hands still wrapped around the mug, I lowered it, saying, “This will do, but tomorrow I’ll take my own…unless you want to share.”
He snatched the mug from my hands and mumbled, “I don’t share.”
“Is that why you hate your brother?” I asked.
That jaw clenched even more and the words, “Something like that,” came out muffled by it.
I’d hit a nerve and considering who I sat across from, I wanted that nerve soothed quickly.
Rising, I walked to the edge of the deck and looked over the railing.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, staring down at the private beach.
Enclosed by rocky cliff sides, the shore fed into crashing waves that danced as they turned to a frothy surf.
“It is,” he said, too quietly for a man of his force.
I peered back at him, and he dropped his eyes to his coffee cup before holding it out to me. “Here.”
“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have—”
“Take the fucking coffee.”
My hands went to my hips, and I scowled at him. “Don’t be so fucking rude.”
It might not have been the best response since I was standing across from my ruthless kidnapper on the edge of a deck that was too many stories up to count.
But he chuckled and held it out further. “Take the coffee, Ava.”
Thrown off, I let my hands fall. It was almost like he was two different people. Walking over, I took it from him, my fingers touching his briefly, but long enough to set those butterflies into another frenzy.
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, resting back in his chair as I took my seat again.
“I do. It gets me in trouble sometimes.”
“I bet. You’re like a damned wildcat.”
“Untamed and unhinged,” I said, grinning over the rim of the cup.
“Something like that.” He shook his head, and I looked back out at the view.
“I’ve never been to the ocean,” I admitted.
“Never?”
I turned back to him, seeing the curiosity there. “Never. I didn’t grow up near the ocean and it didn’t seem worth the two-hour drive to get to the shore when I moved to Bridgeville.” I lowered the mug. “Why do you live here?”
He sat up and rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him. “It makes for a distraction from life, I suppose. There isn’t much beauty in my life, so this suffices.”
I picked at the handle. “No beautiful women in your bed every night.” Unsure where that question had come from, I focused my sight on the mug handle and avoided his eyes.
He snorted. “Not every night.”
My eyes flew up as something in my chest became uncomfortable. “But some nights,” I said, hating how I had wanted him to say something different.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “When I’m in the mood. I suppose it’s different when you have a boyfriend you can sneak onto airplanes and fuck.”
The way he said fuck left my core heated. That he was fishing for my status as much as I had been for his had me confused. “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
He waited for more, his stare penetrating.
Grinning, I said, “He was the bartender from the wedding. I don’t do boyfriends; they get too clingy.”
“So, you don’t do commands, and you don’t do boyfriends. There are so many things to unpack there, wildcat.”
My heart beat out of rhythm, halting my breath momentarily. This was bad and wrong, and I was enjoying it too much. I suspected he was enjoying it just as much.
“I doubt that,” I said, finding my voice.
Dropping his arms and leaning further in, he said, “What were you dreaming about last night?”
The sudden change of topic had me flustered. “I…nothing,” I stuttered, lowering my eyes again.
“Ava.” That commanding tone had returned.
Pushing my chair back, I rose. “Nothing. It was just a nightmare.”
“That wasn’t just a nightmare,” he countered, rising as well.
I walked away, hearing his steps behind me. Prisoner. That’s what I was, no matter how comfortable our talk had been, or how gorgeous he was. But I didn’t know how long I would be here and if the nightmares were returning, they would get worse.
Halting my steps, I turned back, finding his solid chest right in front of me. I looked up at him, only then noticing how he towered over me.
“I need my meds,” I said, hating that I had to ask. Straightening my spine, which only gained me a half an inch, I added, “Or else they’ll continue.”
“The nightmares?” His brows creased and concern lined his blue eyes.
“Yes. The medicine I take helps keep them away. I need to take it three times a day, and I’ve missed two doses already.”
Pulling his phone out, he said, “Do you know the dosages and the name of the medication?”
“Yes.”
“Good. What other meds do you need?”