James
TWENTY-NINE
Justice builds warriors. Love creates monsters.
She drifts to sleep somewhere between the end of the first movie and the middle of the second.
She’s stretched herself out on the sofa, her feet pushed against my thigh.
She keeps wiggling her toes and pushing to get them under my leg.
I’ve spent the hour hunting Burnside down, given he surfaced at his offices in New York this morning.
Being the leader of abillion-dollarr company, you can hardly disappear for an extended period, so I knew it was only a matter of time.
The task now is figuring out where he’s going to be next and deciding how to handle him.
Again, he’s high profile so I can’t just make him disappear like I’ve done many others.
But accidents happen, and when you have one of the best hackers in the world at your disposal, things like his car or helicopter can be tampered with.
The problem then becomes collateral damage because this scum doesn’t drive himself anywhere.
I could lead him into a trap and deliver him into Camryn’s arms, but she’s fighting her own battles right now.
I pull up my messages on my laptop.
Me: I have eyes on Burnside.
The three dots appear instantly.
Camryn: Where?
Me: NY
Camryn: On it. But I assume he’ll be behind a wall of muscle, and I have nothing but the knowledge of his intentions, gleaned from his previous victims who can’t advocate for themselves because they’re dead.
She’s fired up today.
Me: I’m keeping you updated as promised, not pressuring you to do something about it.
The three dots bounce across my phone for a few minutes, as if she’s drafted either a huge-ass dissertation or is procrastinating on what to say.
Camryn: Sorry. It’s not you, it’s the fucked-up system I’m part of and the failure to enforce the moral judgement that is the core philosophy of our entire legal system.
Me: It’s fucked. It’s always been that way. It’s only now that you’re seeing it.
Camryn: Sad but true. How is our girl?
I glance at the sleeping beauty beside me.
Me: Running rings around me and fucking up my life.
Camryn: You love it, really.
I arch a brow. I love my peace, the slice of serenity I’ve found out here in the mountains with nothing but the wildlife to worry about.
Stephanie is chaos personified. She’s bright, bold, a little rash, and utterly devastating.
I swipe a hand down my face.
Me: That’s me updating you. Catch you on the flip side, Agent.
I drop my phone next to my laptop on the table and lean back, letting my eyes fall closed as I run through various scenarios of how to get rid of Burnside once and for all.
Each one causes a problem—for me, for Camryn, for Stephanie. I wish I could drop all of these men on a ship and sink the fucking thing. I’d be the captain, and I would sail it straight to its doom with a smile on my face.
“I don’t want to want you,” Stephanie murmurs.
My hands drop, and I snap my head toward her. Apparently, she not only sleepwalks, but talks in her sleep for shits and giggles too.
“I sometimes wish I could take it back, but then I would have never met you, and maybe I wouldn’t want the dark things I see swimming in your eyes.”
“Steph? Sweetheart, wake up. You’re dreaming,” I coax.
She sighs. “Always so bossy.” Her lips curve. “Do you want to order me around? Do you want me to crawl, James? Beg?”
Nope. Not happening. My blood rushes south—again—defying my orders much like I imagine she would.
“No,” I state, raising my voice to try to snap her back to reality.
“Liar,” she teases. “If I got on my knees for you.” A frown pinches her forehead. “I don’t know.”
She huffs and rolls over so her face is squashed in the sofa, her legs stretch across my lap, and her shirt rises, showing a glimpse of my underwear she stole.
I need to get her to bed. Her own bed. Behind a closed bedroom door that I should exit and never again cross.
I scoop her up in my arms, and she curls against my chest, her soft hand slipping beneath the neck of my T-Shirt to rest against my heart. Her eyes blink up at me in confusion. At least she’s awake now. I don’t think I could do another sleepwalking episode of her lap dancing for me.
“You’re so warm,” she murmurs as I stride to her room. “And hard. Probably from all the log chopping. Who needs that many logs, anyway? Are you building a tiny house?”
My lips twitch. “For the mountain fairies, yes.”
“Excellent news. I do believe they’ve found their dark fae prince.”
She sounds a little out of it. I glance down and recognize the signs of the medication that makes her a little loopy. “I’m no prince.”
She stretches her neck, like she’s offering it to me. “Show me someone else who runs into danger for a woman they’ve never met.”
“Firefighters, police, etcetera. It’s in their job description.”
I cradle her with one arm and pull the comforter back with my other before settling her onto the soft mattress.
She cups my face between her hands before I can pull away.
“They get paid. They chose that profession. You did neither, and you still stepped up. That’s rare, James. Stop underestimating yourself.”
I pull the covers up to her chin, and in a moment of insanity, kiss her forehead. We both freeze for a beat, nothing but the sound of our breaths surrounding us. “Sleep well,” I utter, pulling back and escaping from the room.
I can’t breathe without taking in a lungful of her scent, which seems to have saturated the entire lodge. Outside is where I’ll find peace and the will to resist a woman who is too damn good for me.
I’m picking up the ax and swinging it in less than a minute. Each time the wood splits, I grit my teeth as I remember all the horrific things I’ve witnessed, and even worse, done. I’m under no illusion that there’s a place in heaven for me. I’d refuse it anyway.
Sure, good people do bad things for the right reason all the damn time, but this isn’t that. I’m not that.
Sweat beads my brow as the moon shines bright overhead and the air splits with the howl of a wolf. More answer its call. A pack, not a lone one. I lean on the ax positioned on the chopping block and sigh. My muscles scream at me, and it’s a welcome break from all the other things that scream.
Maybe I should call Daisy. I need to keep my head clear, and she’s the best person for the job.
I lift my head to look at the window of her room.
It’s dark, and I’m sure she passed out almost straight away, or she’d be out here making wisecracks at my anger management techniques and offering to call the fairies to score my technique.
I can’t leave her alone. I wouldn’t rest. Daisy will have to wait, and I’ll just have to endure the pain.
After dragging my ass back inside, I shoot my sister a message regarding Burnside and his movements.
Eleanor: I already know.
Why are all the women in my life smartasses?
I grab a quick shower, needing this sweat off me before I can rest. Except as the steam fills the room, I find a hidden message on the glass, affirmations of a woman who is stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.
The problem isn’t in those words, it’s in the ones written backwards.
I tilt my head, trying to read them. How much time did she take to pen them in reverse?
My fingers trace a backward C, but it doesn’t smudge. I almost slap myself at how stupid I am. I shut off the water and don’t bother with the towel as I step outside to face the glass.
Bold words from the dark-haired temptress in my lodge. A single sentence that makes me smirk as my eyes lift to the clear handprint just above them. My hand print.
Busted.
But instead of calling me out, she took the knowledge and weaponized it in a game I hadn’t even been playing until this moment. That one handprint is irrefutable evidence of my desire.
I shake my head and head into the closet she uses as armor. I can’t even be mad; it wasn’t her invading my private moments. It was I, guilty as charged, and now she’s using it to her advantage. I have to admire her tenacity.
After changing into a clean pair of boxers, I stalk around my darkened bedroom, not needing to turn on the light because I know the layout of this lodge blind.
Each piece of furniture, the positioning, which floorboards creak, the angle the kitchen island juts out.
I can find each of the six firearms hidden in various places in the blanket of the night and not make a sound.
So when I slide into bed, I know what to expect, which is why I freeze when an arm curls over my chest and a smooth, bare leg hitches over my stomach and that damn berry scent of hers rushes up my nose.
“You’re in the wrong bed, sweetheart.”
“Am I, though?”
Fuck my life. Fuck this mess. And fuck Christopher Burnside because I’m not sure I have the power to continue to resist this woman. This one woman who is buried beneath my skin and makes my blood heat. I’ll need a damn medal for making it through without laying a finger on her.
“Stephanie?”
A light snore answers me. She sleepwalked straight into my bed, and now I have a night of restlessness ahead of me as she squirms to get closer and hugs me to her like I’m her favorite body pillow.
I try counting sheep. Listing the things that need repairing in the lodge. Make a mental grocery list. Anything to ignore her soft skin pressed against my own.
“I wish you would want me like I want you.”
When did the snores cease? How long have I been trying to get to sleep using useless techniques?
I do the one thing I can’t in the cold light of day. I tell her the truth.
“I want you in all the ways you could imagine. Your heart, your soul, your body.” My fingers curl around her thigh. “I want you in all the ways I shouldn’t. I want you, and that should scare you because I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
“Neither have I.”
The words linger in the darkness for hours as her breathing deepens once more.
Stephanie is stunning inside and out. I find it unbelievable that she didn’t experience love or desire during her youth, before the horror of her college years.
I know her adult years have been secluded.
I see the same signs as the girls I save from the cult.
The confusion of the world beyond that they either haven’t seen or long forgotten.
Jonathan had the uncanny ability to break a mind in weeks.
Not my sister, though. She didn’t know of the world beyond the impenetrable walls she’d been born behind, and yet he couldn’t take away her spirit.
She dreamed of something more, of a life bigger and more fulfilling without understanding everything that was on offer.
I see that same spirit in Stephanie. The light that is like a moth to a flame for a man entrenched in darkness.
I’ve spent my entire life believing the most dangerous thing about me was what I was capable of doing to other people. I was wrong.
The most dangerous thing is how much I want the woman sleeping beside me, and I am on the verge of saying fuck it and forgetting all the reasons I shouldn’t touch her.