Chapter Two
Lucy stood there, looking gorgeous as sin in her cream sweater and jeans that hugged her in all the right places. Carver was tempted to take a few steps closer, rest his hand over the back of her neck, and taste those lips he’d been dreaming about ever since the day he met her.
She smelled particularly intoxicating tonight too, she had probably showered before knocking on his door. And that pie, that little offering in her hands…
Carver knew she had worked a double shift today. She mentioned it offhand last week in the elevator. She also mentioned she loved to bake.
Lucy talked a lot, and normally, he didn’t like that in a woman, but he found the sound of her voice pleasant. That meant she had probably baked this pie specially for him.
As the silence between them stretched out, he wondered what would possess fate to send this beautiful angel to him. She looked back at him with those doe-like hazel eyes, reminding him of a deer caught in a trap.
He could see a mix of nerves and hope in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but picture her, naked and willing in his bed. Temptation he couldn’t refuse. It made his mouth water, picturing her vulnerable, exposed, and ripe for the taking.
Lucy thought him a good man … he was anything but. If she knew the things he’d done in his family’s name, if she knew about the number of bodies he’d buried, she would run screaming for the closest exit sign.
He had long since reconciled himself to the darkness within him, the violence that came second nature. Yet, standing here with her, he found himself wishing he could be the man she believed him to be, if only for a moment.
Unable to help himself, Carver leaned forward and kissed her. He was surprised when Lucy responded, her lips soft and warm against his. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. Carver cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss.
He felt her relax into him, and she moved closer until he could feel the press of her warm, soft breasts against his chest. For a brief, intoxicating moment, he allowed himself to believe this was possible—that he could have this, have her.
Lucy brushed her fingers against his jaw, tracing the stubble, and Carver felt a surge of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He wanted more, needed more, but he knew he had to pull away. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers for a moment as they both caught their breath.
“ Thank you again … for the pie,” he said lamely, taking the plate from her hands.
Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and he could see the same longing in her expression that he felt in his chest.
He considered inviting her inside, the temptation almost too strong to resist. But he knew it was a bad idea. He had a guest, and “guest” was a generous term. Prisoner was more accurate.
Carver straightened, forcing himself to put some distance between them.
“Lucy,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I appreciate this, really. But now isn’t a good time. Maybe we could … have coffee sometime?”
He saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, quickly masked by a smile.
“Sure,” she replied, her voice light but carrying a hint of the same frustration he felt. “Whenever you’re free.”
He nodded, his mind already shifting back to the problem waiting inside his apartment.
“I’ll let you know,” he promised, knowing it was a weak reassurance but unable to offer more at the moment.
Just then, a scream pierced the silence, echoing from within his apartment. Carver gritted his teeth in annoyance. Lucy widened her eyes, the color draining from her face. He saw the brief flash of fear in her hazel eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope he had seen just moments before. She took a step back, uncertainty evident in her posture.
“What was that?” Lucy asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Carver’s mind raced. He needed a believable excuse, something to dispel her fear and suspicion.
“Movie,” he responded quickly, trying to keep his tone casual. “I’m a horror fan. I’ll lower the volume.”
Lucy glanced toward the door, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze flickered back to him, searching for any sign of deceit.
“A horror movie?” she repeated, doubt lacing her words.
“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “Sorry if it startled you. I get a bit carried away with the sound sometimes.”
She nodded slowly, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. The easy rapport they had moments ago felt strained. He needed to end this interaction before it unraveled further.
“I should get back to it,” he said, taking a step back toward his door. “Thanks again for the pie, Lucy. It really means a lot.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Enjoy the movie. I ’ m a horror fan, too. Maybe we could watch one together sometime?”
With a final, weak smile, Carver retreated into his apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The scream had come from the back room, where his “guest” was secured
. He had to deal with this, and quickly, before things got any more out of hand.
Carver walked to the kitchen, setting the pie on the counter. The sweet aroma did little to calm his nerves. He headed to the back room, where the prisoner was bound to a chair, eyes wide with fear.
“What the hell was that about?” the man spat, struggling against his restraints. “Let me go!”
Carver approached him, his expression darkening. This room was soundproof but he ’ d forgotten to close the door when Lucy rang the doorbell.
“You need to keep quiet,” Carver said calmly. “Or things will get much worse for you.”
The man glared at him but said nothing more, recognizing the dangerous edge in Carver’s tone. Carver tightened the gag around his prisoner’s mouth, ensuring there would be no more outbursts. He checked the bindings, making sure they were secure.
As he straightened up, his mind drifted back to Lucy—her face, her fear, and the brief connection they had shared haunted him. He wished for a different life, one where he could be honest with her, but that life was a fantasy, far removed from his reality.
With a final glance at his prisoner, Carver left the room, closing the door behind him. He returned to the kitchen and cut himself a slice of the pie. Carver took a bite, slowly savoring it, wondering what Lucy was doing now. Had he blown his cover? He had moved into this apartment so he could do his work quietly, away from the watchful eyes of his two brothers. They meant well, he knew, but sometimes he needed a little breathing room.
As he finished his first slice and cut himself another, he couldn’t help but marvel at Lucy’s baking skills. The pie was perfect—sweet, tangy, and comforting in a way that made him crave more. He wanted to taste more of her sweet treats, and not just her baking. But had she already become more suspicious of him? Would she call the cops?
Whenever a potential problem cropped up, Devlin and Galen trusted him to deal with it, and yet he didn’t want to believe Lucy would be a problem. She was a sweet girl, too innocent for the likes of him. She probably believed his excuse.
He finished the second slice, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The memory of Lucy ’ s doe-like eyes filled with fear gnawed at him. He had seen enough fear in his line of work to know it well, but seeing it in her eyes was different. It unsettled him, made him unhappy.
Carver rinsed his plate and set it in the sink, his thoughts drifting back to the girl who lived in the apartment next door. If Lucy ever found out the truth about him, about what he did and why, it would shatter her perception of him completely.
He glanced at the clock. It was late, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with the lingering taste of Lucy’s pie on his tongue.
What if Lucy did become suspicious? He couldn’t afford to let her derail his work. Yet, he also couldn’t bring himself to hurt her or drive her away.
Carver ’ s cell phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up, saw it was a message from Devlin, asking him if the prisoner had talked yet.
With a sigh, Carver stood and walked back to the room where his guest was held. Opening the door, he looked at the man bound to the chair, his eyes wide with fear and desperation.
Carver approached him, his expression hardening. “We’re going to have a little chat,” he said quietly, his voice cold and controlled. “And you’re going to tell me everything I need to know. If you cooperate, this will be over quickly. If not...” He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but clear.
As he prepared to extract the information he needed, Carver couldn’t shake the image of Lucy from his mind. Her kindness and the way she had looked at him with those trusting eyes.
He pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. There would be time to deal with his feelings later—if there was a later. For now, he had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how sweet they might be.
****
Carver groaned, realizing he ’ d fallen asleep on his sofa. The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a harsh glare over the room.
“ Morning,” a familiar, cheerful voice greeted him.
He glared at Devlin, who stood there in his sleek and fancy suit, casually sipping a morning coffee. For a moment, Carver was angry. This was supposed to be his private space.
Devlin had promised not to intrude, and yet here he was. What was he even doing here? Questioning his work? What if someone saw Devlin in his suit and fancy car?
No, Carver wasn’t worried about his brother getting robbed. The Arrow brothers had a certain reputation in the city, and even a two-bit thug knew not to mess with any of them.
But still … what if Lucy saw Devlin enter his apartment? Then again, he doubted Lucy would even recognize or know his brother.
“ Woke up in a cranky mood, I see,” Devlin said, smirking over the rim of his coffee cup.
“ Why are you here?” Carver asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Calm down. You didn’t respond to my text last night. I was worried. Galen told me you probably just got carried away with your guest,” Devlin said, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness.
Carried away. Yeah, Carver supposed that sometimes happened to him. None of them—Devlin, Galen, or himself—had turned out normal thanks to their father.
“ I trust that Tom Emmet is still alive?” Devlin asked, an edge to his voice.
Carver sat up, running a hand through his hair. “ He ’ s alive. Bound, gagged, and missing a few teeth, fingers, and toes, but alive,” he answered.
Devlin nodded, his expression shifting to one of approval.
“ Good. We need him to be able to talk,” Devlin said.
Carver clenched his jaw. He knew how furious Devlin got when someone stole from them, and Tom Emmet was either brave or stupid for taking what amounted to several thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine.
Emmet knew the only reason he was still alive was because he hadn’t yet revealed to Carver where he hid the goods, but that wouldn’t last long. Eventually, they all talked under his knife.
“I’ll get what we need out of him. You don’t have to worry about that,” Carver said.
“ I never doubted it,” Devlin said, his tone softening slightly. He moved to sit on the armchair opposite the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. “ You look like you could use a real meal. Take a break. Stop by the house and let my chef make you a hearty breakfast.”
Carver grunted, not in the mood for small talk. “I’ve got things under control. You didn’t need to come here,” he said.
Devlin shrugged. “ Maybe I just missed my baby brother,” Devlin said.
Carver rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. Despite everything, there was a bond between them that couldn’t be broken.
“ Yeah, well, I ’ m touched. But you should go,” Carver said.
Devlin’s expression grew serious again. “Just remember, Carver, we’re in this together. If you encounter a problem, you call me. Don’t try to do everything on your own,” Devlin reminded him.
“I know,” Carver replied, meeting his brother’s gaze. “But I’ve got this. Trust me.”
Devlin studied him for a moment before nodding. “All right. Just don’t forget to eat something. And clean yourself up. You look like hell.”
With that, Devlin stood and made his way to the door. As he left, Carver couldn’t help but feel a mixture of relief and frustration. He appreciated his brother’s concern, but he needed the space to handle things his own way.
As the door closed behind Devlin, Carver took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension. He needed to focus. There was still a lot to do, and he couldn’t afford any distractions.
His mind wandered briefly to Lucy, wondering what she was doing right now. Probably going for her usual morning jog before heading to work. He hoped she hadn’t heard any of the conversation or seen Devlin leave. But for now, he had to put those thoughts aside.
Carver stood and headed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up fully. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the tired lines and dark circles under his eyes.
He couldn’t let this life wear him down. He had to stay sharp, for his sake and for those he cared about.
After freshening up, he made his way to the back room. The door creaked as he opened it, revealing Tom Emmet still bound to the chair, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance.
“ Morning, Emmet, ” Carver said, his voice steady. “ Ready for the next round?”
The man glared at him but remained silent. Carver sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of him. “ Look, Tom, you know I can keep you alive for a long time,” Carver began.
Emmet ’ s gaze flickered, and Carver could see the resolve starting to crack. It was only a matter of time before he got what he needed.
The image of Lucy ’ s hazel eyes and kind smile lingered in the back of his mind as he picked up the next tool on his little table. After he took care of Emmet, maybe he could ask her if she wanted to watch a movie together.