Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
She wasn’t alone.
Agnes knew this incredibly important fact even before her eyes opened. She felt the big, warm hand that was pressed to her stomach just as she became aware of the soft mattress beneath her body. A mattress—a bed? She was in bed with someone?
What. The. Hell?
Slowly, her eyes opened. Her head turned.
Cassius. His head was on the pillow beside hers.
His eyes were closed, and his dark lashes looked incredibly, impossibly long and thick.
His dark hair was tousled, his muscled chest bare.
She didn’t know if the rest of him was bare or not since Agnes could not quite remember how she’d wound up in bed with him.
When she strained, the last thing she recalled was trying exceptionally hard not to topple off the back of his motorcycle as he thundered down an endless stretch of road.
His eyes opened. “It’s not polite to stare at someone while they’re sleeping.”
Fair enough. But he probably should have realized an important point about her before this moment. “I’m not particularly polite.”
His lips hitched into a faint smile. Damn if it wasn’t sexy.
Too much about him was sexy.
And…
Dangerous.
Her gaze slid over his chest. Lots of tattoos there. Swirls that she’d seen before during their wild, hot night together. What she could not see…that would be the tats on his back. Like the two-headed cobra.
Her heart drummed faster. “You know what else isn’t polite? Hauling a woman into your bed without her permission.”
He immediately sat up. The covers fell away. She looked down automatically because—again, not polite—and, dang it, she saw jeans. He was wearing his jeans.
She picked up the thick, black comforter and realized that she was still in her pants and shirt, too. Very wrinkled clothing. And she was probably very, very much in need of a shower.
Her growling stomach reminded her that she needed food, too. Stat, please.
And coffee. Coffee would be a blessing.
“I didn’t haul you in bed.” A low rumble from Cass. “For the record, you hauled me in here.”
She sat up, too. “I don’t recall that.” A prim response.
“You were practically falling off the bike, princess.”
That part she did recall.
“I even thought about tying you to me because you were scaring me so badly,” he admitted gruffly. “But we made it here. Then I did carry you inside.”
She wondered exactly where…here was. Her gaze darted around the bedroom. Gleaming, wooden walls. High-end furniture. Expensive curtains near the two windows that she spied. Not some no-tell motel this time. Fancy. Pricey.
“I carried you into the bedroom, but when I turned to leave,” Cass continued in that rough and sexy voice of his, “you grabbed my hand. You told me to stay. You proceeded to fall dead into bed, and I…I just slept next to you. That’s it. End of story.”
That was it. Check. No hot sexing that she didn’t recall, though, seriously, Agnes didn’t think that she could sleep through hot sex with Cass. “Where are we?”
“A safe house in Texas.”
“A safe house,” she repeated. Sure. Yes. “Because MCs have those.”
“Yeah, they do.” He climbed from the bed. “The MCs have all sorts of interesting things that Feds don’t know about.” The curtains over the window to the right were parted a bit, and light had drifted into the bedroom. That light allowed her to see the tattoos on his back.
The two-headed snake with its fangs bared.
She lunged for the nightstand. Her frantic fingers yanked open the top drawer because it was second nature for her to store her gun either on a nightstand—like she’d done at the Grove Motel—or in the top nightstand drawer.
Since the gun wasn’t on top, she figured it must be in a drawer.
Exhausted or not, she would have followed her routine.
Because that routine was about staying alive.
Whether she was at home, in a motel, or—
There was no gun inside the top drawer. Or in the second, bottom drawer, either.
“Looking for this, sunshine?”
Her head whipped toward Cass.
He had her gun in his hand.
Her breath seemed to freeze in her chest.
He blinked, then frowned at her. “Why in the hell are you staring at me like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” And how am I looking at you?
Like I’m scared? Like I think you’re my enemy?
She tried to school her features. Normally, Agnes had way better control of her expression.
This just was not a normal situation. She also had not had coffee, so…
yes, not normal. He has the cobra tattoo.
He has my weapon. Has he been playing me all along?
Agnes swallowed. “Maybe I’m a little…off because you’re pointing my gun at me—”
“I’m not pointing it at you.”
“—and because you’re the enemy.”
His teeth snapped together. He’d been standing about five feet away from her, but at that one word…enemy…he immediately stalked back to the bed. Still holding her gun.
Her chin notched up. Fine. So she didn’t have a weapon. She could still fight like hell, so if he thought she’d be an easy target, the man was dead wrong.
“What is it that you think I am going to do to you?” Cass demanded. Then he slapped the gun down on top of the nightstand. “I told you before…I will never hurt you.”
Her breath heaved out, but she remained tense. She also decided to jump out of the bed because staying there didn’t seem like the best idea. Her hand automatically went for her gun.
He made no move to stop her.
The weight of her weapon was reassuring and…
She frowned. Then checked it. “What in the hell?”
“There aren’t any bullets in your gun right now. Figured that it might not be the best plan ever to give you a loaded weapon to point at me while you are still pissed.” He sucked the inside of his cheek. “And you’re clearly pissed at me.”
He had no idea how truly pissed she currently felt. “You lied to me.”
“Sweetheart, I lie to everyone. You’re not special.”
And that hurt. His brutal words slammed right into her heart. They hurt far, far more than they should have.
She backed up. Bumped into the side of the bed.
A frown pulled at his dark eyebrows. “What is it?” His hand lifted, as if he’d touch her.
She dodged his touch. “I need a shower. I need to brush my teeth.” Desperately. “And I need coffee. A boatload of it.”
“I…” Cass stopped. Pressed his lips together. “I…upset you.”
“Give the man a giant cookie. Yes, yes, you did upset me. Hey, pro tip, don’t tell the woman you fucked into near blackout bliss that she is not special.
Think it, sure, whatever.” Jerk. “But don’t say the actual words.
Not cool. Total dick move, in fact.” She’d spied an open door that led to what she thought-slash-hoped was the bathroom. Fantastic.
“You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
She rolled her eyes at the absolute jerk. “Best fuck, not special, check. A body in the dark. Got it. Look, buddy, you are doing yourself zero favors here with me. You should probably stop while you are already fifty paces behind where you need to be.”
“Agnes.”
“Cass.”
His breath heaved out. “I meant…” Gritted. Snapped. “I spend most of my days lying to people. It’s who I am. I am a liar. I am a criminal. I am a thief. I am a killer.”
“And you have the tats to prove that, don’t you?” As if she didn’t know all the tats on his body held different meanings. I am a killer. She wasn’t rolling her eyes any longer. She was staring dead at him. She still gripped the gun. The gun that didn’t have any bullets in it.
His square jaw tightened. “The snake tattoo is what makes you so angry.”
Was he serious? “I was twenty-one years old,” she snapped at him.
She wasn’t pissed. She was so furious that her whole body practically vibrated.
And if she had not been so exhausted when they arrived at this—this safe house, then she would have given him hell sooner.
But she was awake now, and it was time for that hell to be given in full force.
“A bastard who was part of your Twin Cobras—he stalked me and my fiancé—”
“Fiancé?”
“Max had just asked me to marry him. We were going to have a beautiful life.” She stopped.
Huffed out a breath. The pain was just so strong that she huffed out the breath as she tried to push the ache from her body.
But it was an ache that never left. “We had a beautiful life.” A careful correction.
“Had one. Our time together was beautiful. It was just way too short. I should have been with him forever. I should have loved him forever.”
Cass took a step back. His expression had turned into a granite mask. No emotion showed.
“But I didn’t have forever with Max. I lost my forever one dark night when a man with a Twin Cobra tattoo on his wrist thought it was fun to terrorize us.
Max jumped in front of me, but Max—he didn’t know how to fight.
Certainly not how to kill.” Max hadn’t even been on the football team in high school.
He’d been in the band. The drum major. She’d gone to every game and cheered wildly for him, though, as if he’d been the star quarterback.
“He didn’t know about violence. Killing was not in his nature. ”
“I know how to kill.” Dark. As dark as his expression. As dark as his eyes. “That’s my specialty.”
She barely heard him. “Max was going to be a doctor. He was going to save lives. But that bastard took his life. Just attacked Max so that he could get to me.” She pressed her left hand to her stomach.
“Seven times. I felt every stab. I was on the ground, and Max was beside me, and that monster just—he slit Max’s throat in front of me.
I knew Max was dying, and there was nothing I could do, and I prayed that I would die, too. ”
“Agnes.”