Chapter Seventeen
“Was it The Association?” I ask Elias on the phone as I stride toward the sky deck three days later, needing some fresh air after I called him to see if he had updates about what happened in Pyrgos.
Two motorcyclists dressed head-to-toe in black, stopping only when they reached us.
I remember asking who sent them. Because deep down, I knew something was off.
The precision and speed with which they drew their guns. The single kill shot when it was obvious the man I beat up couldn’t escape—eliminating loose ends.
“I’m confirming a few things, but I think you know my answer to that. If it was a robbery, they weren’t really successful, were they? A lot of risk for a few purses and loose change,” Elias answers.
And Olivia’s camera.
I emailed a contact to see if they could locate it. The odds are slim to none, but it’s important, judging by how she dashed after the motorcyclist when he snatched it from her hands.
And so I’ll find it for her.
“So, Bree’s in danger. Officially now.” I swing open the door and step onto the deck, my eyes squinting from the cold sunlight.
“Yes. They obviously figured out her identity. I told her not to leave the ship for now.”
My ribs tighten as guilt sweeps in. I didn’t save Bree first. They almost took her. They would’ve taken her if she hadn’t fought back.
It didn’t even occur to me to go to her first, because all my attention was riveted on Olivia.
Fuck. I can’t mess this up. I can’t have another death happen on my watch.
“Do I need to fly out earlier?” Elias asks. “Because what the hell happened to you? I saw photos of the bastard—I can barely make out a face. You better hope forensics showed the bullet killed him and not you.”
I groan, a fifty-pound cannonball sitting on top of my chest.
I don’t know how to answer him.
The surge of violence three days ago obliterated all rational thought, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.
My fingers tighten on my phone, and I hiss from the sharp pain. Raw knuckles requiring ten stitches will do that to you.
Shit. I was a savage.
“Rex? I can pull you out if you can’t handle it. You had a shit ton of witnesses, you don’t just—”
“He hurt her.”
The confession pours out of me, and silence fills the line.
It’s the only answer I have.
My mind still quakes from the red-hazed memories of the scariest moment in my adult life.
The asshole pointing a gun at Olivia.
Her eyes wide with fear.
The murderous craze surging in my veins when I pushed her out of the way, not caring about my safety.
Then I let my monster out.
My ears rung. Logic winked out. Only one thought percolated in my mind.
Kill him. Kill the bastard.
Turn him into ground meat so he could never hurt her again.
Then the strange split second when the man lying beneath me, taking my punches, became…me.
The same gray eyes rimmed with dark circles, a deranged smile twisting his lips.
That only spurred me on.
“I can’t let him hurt her, Elias. Don’t ask me more.” A shaky exhale escapes me.
I’m a madman. If Olivia hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve killed the man. Heck, I probably killed him.
I can’t care about her. I should stay away.
But fuck, my willpower is disappearing.
“I see.” I hear the familiar clicking of his lighter. “I understand more than you think,” he murmurs cryptically.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who I’m talking about?” My lips curl in self-derision. I’m a violent madman with no self-control. Add that to my list of unhinged traits. “Or do you know that too?”
“You threw yourself in front of a bullet for her while the woman you’re supposed to protect is being kidnapped. I’d say it’s pretty self-explanatory, wouldn’t you? You Andersons lose your minds when your hearts are involved.”
“Nothing’s involved.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He chuckles softly. “You still in this, or you want out?”
Determination pulses through me. I have to see this through. “Good luck in hell trying to pull me out.”
“Thought you’d say that.” The clicking stops and amusement leaves his voice. “Lie low. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Lana and I’ll meet you in Dubrovnik.”
“Lana? Why are you traveling with my sister? And does she know?”
“Global warming, one flight versus two, saving on jet fuel. Take your pick. You Andersons have a target on your back now. It’s better this way. And she doesn’t need to know.”
He hangs up before I can ask more questions.
Head dipped down, I barely notice the wide open seas and the other passengers walking by. I tug my hair, my head swirling with what I can do, and what I should do next.
Everything’s unraveling. Spinning out of control.
Then I smell it.
The faint sweet scent of honey and cotton.
Olivia.
I spin around just in time to see her marching up to me, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. She’s wearing another simple dress—blue this time. Her hair is in the same tidy little bun.
God, she’s so beautiful.
My heart skips a beat, and my lips twitch.
And just like that, the earlier heaviness vanishes.
Her magic.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I don’t care if you go all macho-man on me, because you’ll meet me for your next session. No more delays.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I bite back my smile. Busted. I have been rescheduling our mandatory heart to hearts.
“Didn’t you learn in your intro to psychology classes you’re signaling a closed-off attitude when you do that?” I motion to her arms.
She lets out the smallest growl. “Don’t change the subject. Mr. Anderson, we need to meet. What happened three days ago was traumatizing for everyone involved. You almost died. You need to talk to someone about it.”
“We’re back to Mr. Anderson now, huh? What happened to ‘Rex’? I seem to recall someone bawling on top of me, crying out my name because she was terrified I’d gotten shot.”
A faint blush creeps onto her cheeks, and a muscle twitches in her jaw.
She’s so fucking sensitive. Unable to help myself, I lean in, my pulse galloping. I wonder what else I can do to make her blush harder. “Olive…I like it. My name on your lips. Say it again.”
I waggle my brows.
Her nostrils flare and I swallow a chuckle.
But instead of blowing up, Olivia presses a hand to her chest and takes a deep breath. Then she rearranges her features into a mask of serenity.
“I hate to do this, but…” she slides out her phone from her pocket, “I think it’s time to give big brother a call. After all, Maxwell has sent me a few messages and I’ve been busy all morning, so I haven’t replied yet. We don’t want him worried, do we?”
I freeze. She’s pulling the Maxwell card on me again. “You threatening me again?”
She blinks her large, innocent eyes.
Nope. Not falling for that, you little devious, too smart for your own good doctor. Fuck, why does she get my blood pumping?
“What? When did I say that? I’m just giving my employer an update like any consummate professional would do.”
The vixen taps on her cell, and the next thing I know, ringing sounds erupt from the speakers.
I reach for the phone, but she spins away, a sly grin on her face. Cold sweat beads my upper lip as panic surges inside me. I can’t let her call Maxwell; I need to stay on this cruise.
“Fine. Name the time and place. I’ll be there.”
Olivia’s eyes widen, like she isn’t expecting me to agree. But when she opens her mouth, a voice travels from the speakers.
“Domino’s Pizza, would you like to hear our meat lover’s special today?”
An American accent. She called back home just to mess with me.
The flush deepens on her face, and she ends the call.
“You played me,” I murmur, a tickle crawling up my chest. The panic earlier slowly shifts into something infinitely more enticing. “Pizza delivery. Fucking pizza.”
“What can I say? I’m famished after talking to assholes and I love the meat lover’s pizza.”
Then, a thought occurs to me and I step up to her, watching the color leave her face, her smugness completely gone.
Bending down, I whisper, “Meat lover’s special, huh? You like your meat? Long, thick, and juicy?”
Olivia hiccups, her sassy mouth clearly rendered speechless.
My gaze drops to her lips as they part. Her tongue dips out. This brazen, luscious mouth. I want to smother it with my hand or taste it.
A pulse flickers in her neck and a telltale throb pulses in my cock. Of all the women in the world, my cock now only reacts to the one woman I should stay away from.
She clears her throat and straightens—her David to my Goliath. I bite back a smile.
“I’m picky about my meat, Mr. Anderson. If it’s overdone, I’ll shred it with my teeth, then spit it out.”
I recoil, imagining her chewing off my dick with a sick smile on her face.
She doles out a satisfied smirk. “Tomorrow. Two p.m. My office. See you there, Mr. Anderson. Show up or it won’t be Domino’s Pizza I’m calling.”
Damn it, I forgot David beat Goliath.