Chapter 12
twelve
Now I watch her through the security camera feed on my phone as she works behind the desk at Grovewood Ink.
Is it creepy and a gross misuse of my abilities?
Maybe. I don’t really care. When I’m away from her, all I want is to see her again.
I can’t help myself. And I can’t think of anything better to do while I wait for my client to show for our weekly meeting.
I do business with some unsavory characters, but you do what you have to do with the skills you’re given.
I met Sebastian Arsenio a few years ago when the guys and I interfered with some of his personal business.
He reached out to me shortly after, interested in the specific set of skills I possess.
I’m a numbers guy. I may not be as tech-savvy as Breaker, but I can move money like no one else.
You want to make a criminal empire look financially legit?
I’m your guy. I know where to invest, when to make the calls, and where to hide the shadier purchases to avoid detection from the white-collar criminal chasers.
Most people don’t realize it’s rarely the bloody crimes men like Arsenio commit that sends them to prison.
It’s tax evasion, money laundering, and financial fraud.
This is where my expertise comes into play.
On top of being a kick ass pilot, I make crimes like the disappear.
A blacked out Ferrari Enzo pulls up behind my bike, not something you typically see on the back roads of South Carolina.
If I had to guess, he drove up from Florida, where he owns a few businesses.
The butterfly doors raise, Arsenio stepping out in all black, same as his car.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips.
The man is a total fucking cliché. All gold chains and black silk shirts, he might as well wear a name tag that says, “I’m a mobster, ask me how. ”
“Mr. Hayes, good to see you again.” He says, his accent thick as if he just stepped off the boat from Spain. I know that’s where he lives most of the year, but he has homes on nearly every continent.
“Arsenio, how was the drive?” I ask, shaking his hand.
Most people may think doing business with the mafia is deplorable.
Even shaking hands with a man who has taken so many lives would make some people’s blood run cold.
But Breaker and I dove deep into his business practices before either of us agreed to work with him.
He doesn’t traffic people, only drugs. He doesn’t harm women or children, he doesn’t steal people’s life savings to fund his exploits.
As far as evil men go, he could be a lot worse.
“Ugly. I’m ready to go home. This is my last stop before heading back to Spain, so let’s make it a quick one.
” He says, reaching into his car and pulling out a large envelope.
“I have something I need you to look into. One of my warehouses in Miami was raided last night. Police raids are nothing new in my world. I cover my ass to prevent such things from ever being successful for them. But they’re happening more and more often in my Florida businesses.
There is money missing, shipments and product coming up short.
Someone is tipping them off, and I want to know who.
This is the bait. I need you and Mr. Negan to set the trap. ”
I take the envelope, sliding it into my backpack with a nod.
“Break will follow the trail of texts people always like to send to brag about the bullshit they do, and I’ll follow the money.
We’ll find what we can,” I tell him, knowing there’s no question.
We’ll find them, and Arsenio will make them regret ever being born.
He’s always been adamant about keeping the majority of his money under the control of someone in his family and bringing me in to solve the less than legal problems. Something tells me he may be reconsidering that soon.
“I need some assistance from you,” I say, slinging one leg over my bike. Arsenio smirks, almost a laugh, but that would never happen.
“From me? Oh, Mr. Hayes, that’s not usually how this relationship works.” He says, his curiosity piqued.
“Exactly. Hopefully, that shows you how serious I am,” I tell him, still unsure if I really want to involve him in my personal life.
“Please let us see if I can offer you my expertise,” he asks, cocky as ever.
“I’ll be increasing security around my estate.
I have some very important…guests. I need to ensure their safety at all times.
Preferably without their knowledge of the excess protection.
I don’t want to alarm them. Can you recommend anyone for this kind of task?
” I try my best to be vague, on the off chance he doesn’t already know what I’m talking about.
“Someone capable of discreetly monitoring your woman, correct? The receptionist?” He asks, pressing for more information I know he already has. He wants me to give it willingly, to trust him.
“Willow. Her name is Willow. And her son Jaxon, he’s 17. I need them protected. But I’m not quite sure how she will react to such an aggressive tactic.” I tell him. I can almost guarantee she would be pissed to know I was having her followed, but I really don’t give a fuck.
“She is hiding? Running?” He asks.
“You know who she is. The man she’s hiding from is her ex, her son’s father.” I say, watching his fists clench.
Although Arsenio is a criminal, he is an honorable man. He has no patience for men who beat women or children. I’ve seen him kill men for far less than what Willow endured.
“I will send you what you require. They will remain protected until this man is dealt with.” He slides into the driver’s seat of the sleek sports car without another word, nodding once before pulling out onto the secluded road and disappearing.
I spend a few minutes breathing in the silence, thinking about the beautiful woman currently living in my house.
No matter what she’s faced, she’s come out of it a stronger, more resilient person.
Day by day she’s reclaiming herself, one piece at a time, from the wreckage of his manipulation, control, and abuse.
I’ve never met anyone so courageous in my life.
I’m proud of her, inspired by her even. I know she’s scared, and based on her past, I don’t blame her at all. But I would never hurt her the way he did. I would never hurt her at all.
I check my phone, a message from the woman occupying every spare inch of my mind looks back at me. Instantly, annoyance rushes through my veins.
“Car won’t start. I think the battery is dead. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”
Home. She called my house home.
“Of course, pretty girl. Be there in ten.”
“It’s not that big of a fucking deal, Beck. Please, just drop it!” She shouts, shoving my front door open and kicking her beat up Converse off right in front of the entryway table. She drops her purse onto the table with a loud thunk, not thinking anything of it.
“It is a big deal, Willow. If you don’t have a reliable vehicle, how do you expect to get to where you need to be, when you need to be there?
” I ask, picking up her shoes and sliding them into their place on the bottom shelf of the table.
I hang her purse on the hook, watching her march into the kitchen without paying me a second thought.
I can’t help the smirk that creeps across my face.
This woman belongs here, I have no doubt in my mind.
Whether she realizes it or not, she’s already comfortable in my home.
“It was one time! I mean…I know I’ve had problems with it, but I’m working on it!
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.
” She snatches a bottled water out of the fridge and twists the cap off aggressively.
“I’m sorry I’ve got too many problems...
or maybe I’m just not enough... I don’t know anymore. ”
I lean against the kitchen island, legs and arms crossed, doing everything I can to keep from grinning.
I’ll let her pitch this temper tantrum as long as she needs to in order to see reason.
All of this came because I offered her the unlimited use of my SUV, the only sensible and safe vehicle I own.
No strings, no games, I just want her to be safe.
“Do you want to talk about what’s really going through your mind? Or do you want to pretend this is still about the car?” I ask, and her head snaps up. She’s angry, but only because I see right through her defenses.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to put you out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix things for me all the time. It makes me feel…I don’t know…” her voice trails off, but I know what she’s not saying.
A burden. It makes her feel like a burden.
“You’re tired? Or you’re upset? There’s a big difference. And both are allowed here, Will. You’re allowed to feel however you need to feel.” I try to keep my voice neutral but soft. I don’t want her to feel like she has to put on the same show here that she does for everyone else.
“Upset takes energy. I think I’m past that.” Her dry laugh sounds bitter, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
“Talk to me. Please, pretty girl. I know it’s not something you’re used to, but you are safe here.” I step closer to her, reaching one hand out towards her arm. She backs away until she bumps into the counter on the other side of the kitchen. This shrinking, this running from me, it ends now.
“I don’t know how! Every time I do, I feel like I’m just making everything harder. For you. For everyone.” She shouts, her eyes darting around like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt at the first opening.
“That’s not true, Will.” I don’t know what else I could possibly say to convince her I want her in my life and in my arms.
“Not true? I cancel plans every time I’m invited.
The anxiety of feeling like I’m an obligation is just too overwhelming.
I know eventually people will stop inviting me, and I’ve already accepted that.
When I need help, I instantly feel like I’m too much.
So I don’t want to ask at all. I just...
shrink. I make myself so fucking small so I don’t ruin things.
And even then, it’s like I’m still in the way.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Beck.
This is just who I am.” She in a full-blown panic at this point.
I want to reach out to her so badly, to hold her tightly and reassure her I would go to the ends of the fucking earth to do anything she ever asked.
“You don’t have to shrink, Willow. You don’t.” I feel like if I say it enough, maybe someday she’ll believe me. “You’re not in the way. I want you here.”
“Then why do I feel like a problem you’re too polite to get rid of?
!” Her chest is heaving, ready for a fight—maybe with me, maybe with the world.
The air between us is thick with tension, the kind that feels like lightning racing across your skin.
She paces back and forth in front of me, her nervous energy desperate for an outlet.
I’m tired of her self-loathing, of her blaming every single wrong in this world on herself and carrying that weight every single day.
I have just as much reason to stay away from her as she thinks she does to keep her distance from me.
I’ve told myself that a hundred times. Maybe a hundred thousand.
She doesn’t belong in this world, my world.
She deserves a happily ever after with a real Prince Charming who never meets with mafia dons on deserted back roads.
She’s too good, or too soft, or maybe just too real.
Her pain is real. Her past is real. Dark and dirty, but so real.
But fuck, she’s so damn beautiful when she’s worked up like this.
That fire she keeps banked deep inside her?
It's the only thing in this godforsaken life that feels honest.
She stops pacing. Finally. Her eyes find mine, locked on me like I’m both the hurt and the healing she’s looking for. There’s something trembling on her lips she’s fighting to keep inside. Fear? Need? I don’t know anymore.
She whispers, “This is a bad idea.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. We both knew the second I touched her the first time, this is where we would be one way or another.
She steps back one tiny step. She’s testing me. Daring me. Maybe hoping I’ll prove her right, that all men are the same and take what they want without a second thought.
I don't move.
I won’t cross that line unless she drags me over it. Her voice will never be silenced again in my world.
Then she says it. Low, raw, and ruined.
“Fuck it.” She’s on me like she’s starved for something she doesn’t know how to ask for.
And I give it to her. All of it. The hunger.
The violence. The softness buried under sharp edges, hers and mine.
My hand knots in her soft hair, her mouth crashing into mine like she’s trying to forget every time she told herself she didn’t want this. Didn’t want me.
I warned her. I really did.
But now? There’s no turning back.
She’s mine. And I’m never letting her go.