CHAPTER FOUR
GABE
“Let go,” Elena murmurs, staring up at me with dilated eyes. “Please.”
She doesn’t pull away, and she doesn’t flinch. Not once.
I already have a damn good idea of why she’s in my home and who sent her my way. The fact that she’s likely come from a domestic abuse situation—assuming I’ve guessed correctly from the little she’s already said—and hasn’t run screaming from me yet is telling.
But then, she knew who I was before she walked up my mountain. Or at least, she thought she did.
I loosen my hold on her wrist, enough to let her turn her hand in my grip, but not free herself. “Tell me about him.”
“Coffee. Please?” The fragment of hope in her eyes is so fucking sweet that I almost cave and give her what she wants.
Almost.
“Soon, sweetness.” I rub the pad of my thumb across her wrist, pleased when her pulse flutters erratically beneath my touch. “What do I need to know about him?”
The light fades from her pretty gaze. “You’re no fun,” she grumbles. That’s cute, too.
“Talk now. Reward later.”
“Hmmph.” She glances up at me through her lashes and flexes her hand in my grasp, uncurling her fingers like she’s tickling salmon.
Is the little toy fucking flirting with me?
I swallow hard and tug her across the floor toward me. The patch we’re on is worn smooth from years of me walking on it.
“Tell me about him, Elena.” I let an edge of hardness enter my tone, squeezing her wrist a little firmer.
Her pulse quickens. “His name is Oliver. Oliver Markham.” Her chin rises, the same show of defiance she gave me back in the yard.
“You kept his name?” That’s something. If she’s divorced, he’s fair game. If she’s not… He’s still in a world of hurt if he’s damaged the stunning woman before me and stole the light from her.
“The paperwork hasn’t come through yet. For the name change,” she adds quickly at my assessing look. “Everything else is finalized. Not that he didn’t fight. He’s a bit obsessive.” She looks down at where I still hold her wrist. Her hand goes limp.
My heart aches in my chest. “Show me, sweetness.”
Her gaze shoots to meet mine. For the first time since she arrived on my land, there’s real fear in her eyes. “What?”
“Show me what he did to you.”
“I told you.”
I smile, and there’s no humor in it. “You gave me words, Elena. Now I want you to show me what he did to you to make you want to leave.” I release her wrist, the hardest damn thing I’ve done in an age, and give her space.
For a woman I met less than an hour ago and just brought it to my house, that’s saying something.
She wraps her arms around herself like a protective barrier, staring up at me.
Those pretty lips move, but nothing comes out.
For the longest time I’m sure I’ll be responsible for resuscitating her with coffee just for being an asshole.
Then she shifts again, and I realize that the single person hug hasn’t been about hiding from me.
It’s been about motivating herself to do exactly what I asked.
Her hands fall to her sides, along with the panels of her red checkered shirt. The material hangs open in the middle, displaying the same slice of deliciously curved stomach she showed me before, along with a fresh patch of skin. But this flesh is neither soft nor unmarked.
It’s crisscrossed with deep scars, and not the sort she might have done herself in the middle of an anxiety attack or worse.
The edges are jagged, like the blade he used was serrated. A hunting or fishing knife is my guess. He didn’t go too deep, but whether that was by design or choice is anyone’s guess.
“Christ, sweetness,” I murmur. “You think he followed you out here?”
I hope he’s followed her. I hope he’s stupid enough to try to break into my home. That’ll give me a damned good reason to end the threat to her life in short order. I can be as creative as she needs me to be about body disposal.
“I– I’m not sure.” The words expel from her in a rush. She knots her fingers but doesn’t try to hide her body from my gaze. “I might just be paranoid.”
Again, that flicker of defiance hits me low in my gut. I’m blown away by the display of courage before me from a woman who knows fuck all about me. What she does has been garnered from a stranger.
“Being paranoid might keep you alive.” I rise to my feet and hold out my hand. She hesitates then pushes up. Her legs wobble but she refuses my help, the strain in her face obvious. Pain lances through her eyes as she looks away from me.
I grab the edges of her shirt and start buttoning it up. She gives a little gasp and pulls back for the first time.
Elena’s hands rise to bat at mine. “If you want me to cover up—”
I let out a soft growl that stops her fussing. “I do, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Is he armed?”
“What?” She stands still and lets me button her shirt to her breasts. My knuckles graze the heavy swell, and her eyelids half close. “Y-yes. Knives. He prefers knives.”
I can see that, honey. “I can deal with hand-to-hand. Is he trained?”
“Not like you.”
That gives me pause. She asked about my work before. “What do you know about me?” I let my hands linger on that top button of her top. My thumbs stroke the curves of her breasts.
Her breaths come a little faster. “Only that you’ve been out here for a long time. You came home after— After your world was destroyed.” Her voice becomes a thin whisper as I drop one hand to her hip and press her backwards into the door to the stairwell I closed and locked earlier.
“Good. Keep going.” I squeeze her hip, reaching up to cup her jaw. “What else did he tell you?”
“Who?” Her eyes glaze as I close my hand around her throat gently. Not threatening, just there.
“Drake.” I stroke her pulse point there, too.
“He said not to…” Her eyes flutter open. She’s struggling, fighting me, and it’s beautiful. “He said not to… That there’s a reason you are the way you are.”
He got that damn right.
“Drake should keep his opinions to his own damn self,” I mutter, pulling my hand away from her hip to brace my forearm over her head, boxing her against the door to my open air living space. “So tell me, Elena with the husband you’re asking me to kill. What are you offering in payment?”
Her eyes refocus and she looks out over my shoulders. “How do you keep all the nasties out?” she mutters.
I laugh, a sound alien to me. “Damn, woman. You’re gonna make me crazier than I already am.
” I stoke her throat and she fucking well arches in my hold like a cat being petted.
If I wasn’t hard before, now I’m straining in my jeans and fit to burst from that little display.
Touching her was the worst choice of my day.
“Focus, sweetness. Is he down there now, looking for you, or are you just scared of him?”
She shakes her head, restless. “I’m fucking terrified, alright?
He cut me up, chased me across three counties.
I managed to get a divorce only because he didn’t realize that I'd spent the past decade building my own business while he was off screwing anything with tits on business flights. I was meant to be the pretty southern wife who could cook and raise kids.” A bitter smile twists her pretty lips.
“Only, if he’d ever actually listened during any of the dates we had during those early days, he would have realized that I struggled to fall pregnant or keep a baby, because there’s something wrong with me.
And after he fucked me up…well. He made that a permanent thing, didn’t he? ”
I swallow hard as her eyes glitter with the sort of madness that I know all too well. It’s the same sort I'll see if I look in a mirror. Not that I’ve seen one of those for a damn long time.
“Did he?” I let her throat go and cup her cheek. “I’ll do what you want, honey. Maybe throw in a few extra details if you need me to be specific.”
I want to see if she’s got desperation on her mind, or revenge. Not that I much care. I’ll do what she wants anyway. Right now we’re just negotiating terms. The man’s life became forfeit the moment she showed me her scars.
“I don’t care what you do. As long as he’s gone.” Her eyes fill with tears, but they aren’t for the dead man to be. They’re for the woman she was who trusted him with something that was precious to her once.
“I’ll do that for you,” I say softly. “You mentioned payment, Elena. What do you have in mind?”
“I have money,” she blurts, then winces, like it's a dirty word.
Between us it is, and she instinctively knows that.
I laugh at her. I don’t need a dead man’s money.
“What the hell am I going to do with cash, sweetness? I’ve got more than I need and nothing to spend it on. I got a payout enough to last me four lifetimes when I retired and walked out here. Hell, they gave me three medals for what I did. And what I didn’t do.” My voice becomes ragged.
“I heard.” Her fingers rise to my shoulder. It’s about as far as she can reach without getting onto her toes. “How do you know Drake?”
I frown at her. “He served with me for a few years. But he’s not a stranger to you, is he?” I got that wrong. Maybe I’ve assumed other things about her, too.
She shakes her head, her eyes clearing. “We went to college together. He did engineering. I studied music. Then I graduated and grew up. My love became a hobby…forgotten.” Her lips twist again. “And I got a new hobby.”
I fucking hate that expression on her.
“The husband.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, smoothing her flesh out.
Her skin pops back under my touch. “Alright, honey. The deal is that you stay here, and you don’t leave.
That’s it. That’s my payment. Stay out of my way.
I’ll tell you when the job is done. You’ll be free of him then.
Understood?” I drop my hands and step back.
If I don’t, the job won't get done, but she sure as hell will.
Elena nibbles her lip. “Drake said…”
I raise both eyebrows. “Drake should keep his opinions to himself. The kitchen is around the back.” I wave a hand to the hollowed section behind where she stands.
It’s bigger than it looks from here, but she’ll find that out in a moment.
“The doors stay locked. Both of them. Everything you need is up here. Explore. Do not leave.” I fix her with a hard stare.
“If you do, I’ll find you. That won’t be pretty, sweetness.
Coffee is behind you. Twenty steps or less.
Make as much mess as you like. The place is yours. ”
I wait for her tentative nod, then step back in measured paces. I don't count the steps out in my head. I don’t need to.
I built the house years ago, and I know the dimensions of every single piece of hewn wood in my home.
I keep walking as she watches my retreat, frowning.
Know the moment that her mouth opens that I’m close.
I reach overhead and grab the harness, linking it to my waist. My rifle—my other rifle, not the one I stowed away in the locker downstairs—is at the edge.
I grab it a fraction of a second before the freefall takes me.
Her cry is the prettiest thing I’ve heard in a long damn time.
I wonder if she’ll do that for me when I slide inside her after I've killed the man who marked her up and tried to steal the defiance from her.
The man who failed.
I won’t.
My name echoes off the mountains as I taste her panic and disbelief in a single breath in the moment before my feet hit the ground. I unclip the harness and stow it safely in its place until I return for her.
Stay there, sweetness. Don’t you dare leave.
Elena peers down at me, her hands gripping the edge. Her mouth frames my name in a silent cry.
You’ll say it louder later, beautiful.
I promise.
I shoulder my rifle, its weight a comfort as I walk away from her, knowing it might be a while before I return.
Hopefully the ex is a better stalker than she thinks. Hopefully he’s a mean piece of work.
I look forward to finding out what his fear tastes like before I go home and make his wife mine.