Chapter 18
Dax
I kiss and nibble the side of her neck. She sighs and relaxes, but I know her well enough to know that’s only temporary. My little fighter is going to put up a hell of a fight. Little does she know, she’s already lost.
My hand slides down her sweaty back until it lands on her ample ass. I squeeze it, and I think I jolt her back to reality. She tenses underneath me, so I give her another squeeze.
“Get off me,” she orders, but all I do is suck on the base of her neck, making sure I mark her. “I said, get off me.” She pushes my shoulder. My phone buzzes, and I snatch it from the floor.
She jumps off my body, runs to the bedroom, and slams the door shut. After putting on my pants, I go downstairs and get my food from the deliveryman.
She’s still not back when I return, so I go in search of her. Finch follows.
“Sweetheart?” I turn the knob, but the door is locked. I could take it off the hinges, but I won’t. “I got you dessert. Come sit with me while I eat.”
I’m met with silence, and since my stomach won’t stop growling, I return to the kitchen and eat the jerk chicken dinner I ordered.
Finch sits next to me, probably hoping I drop something, but this food is too spicy for her.
It doesn’t take long for the bedroom door to open, and for me to hear heavy and angry footsteps. I look up when she slams her hand on the table. She’s in an old, faded, gray housedress.
“I got you that lemon cake you like.” I gesture at the container, but she doesn’t so much as look at it.
“I want you out of my apartment and out of my life.”
“It’s too late for that.” I shove a big forkful of rice in my mouth while she continues to glare.
She sits. Her face softens, and she straightens her shoulders.
“Listen.” She rubs the top of my hand with hers.
She forces a fake smile. “I realize now that I had no business investigating and following you. I’m sorry for that.
” She almost chokes on the word sorry. She’s not, and I don’t want her to be.
“Don’t say anything you don’t mean. It’s unbecoming. I want you as you are.” I rest my hand on top of hers, but she yanks it away. “I don’t mind that you’re a little liar. I kinda like it.”
She takes a deep breath before she continues. “What you do for a living is none of my business. Like I said, good for you. Get your bag, but I’m just not that into you like that.”
“Well, I was just in you.” I smirk when her head jerks back.
“What I’m saying is that I don’t want to continue whatever this is.” She gestures between us.
“I parked your car in one of the guest spots.”
She goes silent, and I wait for her to ask how I knew where her car was or how I was able to get it here. Only, she doesn’t.
“Did you hire that private investigator to follow me?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you found the tracker, and I need to know where you are. It wasn’t cool of you to sneak away. When this goes public, it will be even more important for me to know—”
“Public? No. After tonight, I don’t want to see you again. And no one knows who you are.”
“Not yet, but it’s time, sweetheart.”
“Please, don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Look, you can track me too. Give me your phone.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t want to track you.”
My phone buzzes with an email. I look through and text back my approval.
“I’m going to walk Finch after I eat, and I’ll be back. Do you want to walk with me?”
“I don’t ever want to pick up dog shit,” she snaps. “And I told you not to bring this beast over here.”
Finch growls, and I rub her head.
“Sweetheart, I told you the first day we met that I wasn’t getting rid of the dog.”
“Don’t get rid of her. There are millions of women out there who love dogs. Find one. Just get yourself and that mutt out of my life.” She stands and points at the door. “Go.”
I resume eating.
“What do I have to do to get you to go?”
“That’s easy. Leave with me.”
She takes a step back and slaps both hands on her face. Once I’m done, I throw away the container, wash my hands, and whistle for my dog. I put the leash on her and walk out without a word.
“Any update on Devin Lamb?” Preacher’s television is on full blast. He yells at something, and then it falls silent.
“The little thief has been the model employee for the past month.” That’s not what I want to hear. For this to work, I need him to be the fuck up that he’s always been. “He’s on time and is very charming to the women who come into the shop.”
“Well, figure out a way to—”
“Why do you want him to steal from you so bad?”
“Just figure out a way. Tempt him. Do something.”
“What are you up to?” he presses.
I don’t answer to anyone, but I do respect Preacher and Ripley. Ripley doesn’t ask questions. He’s shrewd and doesn’t need to ask. He seems to always know. In fact, if he weren’t so caught up with his fiancée and her recovery, he would have put this together.
Preacher is shrewd, too, but in a different way. He’s textbook smart. Despite working for me, he has an Ivy League education. After graduating, he enrolled in seminary school, but he dropped out after a few months. I have no idea why, and he never talks about it.
“It’s not business. This one is personal,” I say. “It won’t affect you.”
“Well, I have the feeling that it will.”
“Can you do what I ask or not?”
“Have I ever let you down?” The answer is no. I vet my inner circle very closely. I’ve never made the wrong choice. “Consider it done.”
“Get his misdeeds on camera. Meet me in an hour.” I end the call before he can say another word. I send Rip a text reminding him of the meeting.
Once Finch does her business, we return to the apartment. She’s locked the door, but I use my key to get inside. I hear the shower running when I get back. I pull out the hidden dog food and dish, fill them, and go in search of my reluctant woman.
The bathroom door is locked, so I use a butter knife to jimmy it open. She shrieks when I join her in the shower and wrap my arms around her waist. I kiss the side of her neck. She relaxes into me and sighs.
“Why can’t it always be like this?” I whisper in her ear. “You and me. Together and happy.”
“I’m not looking for—”
“You were with that loser doctor. Why not me?”
My mind is elsewhere, not at this fucking jail, but this is what needs to be done, and the fucking Titans requested an audience. They have leverage. They know it, and I know it. I know what’s coming, and I don’t like it.
Preacher sits in a van that I can only describe as a vehicle befitting a serial killer. It’s white, about fifteen years old, and riddled with dents. He has three laptops, and he seems unfazed, which reassures me.
Ripley shows up on that big, loud ass bike, and parks next to me. The only person more eager than I to leave this godforsaken place is him.
“Let’s get this shit over with.” His deep voice penetrates through the dark, but the man who arranged all of this isn’t here.
We don’t have long to wait until a black SUV slowly rolls in. One would think that the driver behind the wheel is not eager to get this over with. Perhaps he isn't, but we are.
He comes to a stop, and he steps out. All six feet and three inches of him. I know because all the Titan men are the same height. They’re a strange fucking family, but they stick together. If you fuck with one, you fuck with them all. And you don’t want to do that.
He’s in Dockers, a white button-down shirt, and dress shoes. He looks like the trained accountant that he is. Despite his height, one would think he’s non-threatening. They wouldn’t be more wrong.
He gives a curt nod to us, but he doesn’t speak.
“Thirty minutes,” Preacher yells from his van. “Go.”
The guard directs us through the back door. We don’t get far until two others drag Jack Brennan to us in the middle of the hallway. He blanches when he sees us. He knows what’s about to happen, or at least he thinks he does.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, no, no.” He tries to back away, but a guard holds each of his arms. They toss him in the middle, and he’s surrounded by the three of us.
“Mr. Brennan.” Stone has a slow drawl. There is no emotion on his face. He looks like he’s here to sign paperwork. “It’s been brought to my attention that you laid hands on my niece.” Brennan swallows, but he doesn’t say a word.
Both his eyes are black, and his lips are swollen. His face is also bruised.
Stone puts on black gloves before he stands in front of Brennan. For a man who caused so much trouble, he’s small, and he looks even smaller in front of Stone.
“We have rules, Mr. Brennan, and one of the most important is that you don’t put your hands on women.
” He grins, and it looks more like a grimace.
Stone Titan is not unassuming. He’s tall and muscled.
I’ve even heard women describe him as handsome.
If you didn’t know, you’d think he was a businessman who works a regular job.
He certainly dresses the part. I’ve only ever seen him in button-down shirts and expensive slacks, but his name is perfect for him.
He’s stone cold. He’s almost clinical in these situations, and if Brennan were anyone else, I’d feel sorry for him.
“Especially not my niece.” He taps Brennan’s cheek and chuckles.
“Mr. King, I’ll give you first dibs. After all, we’re here because of you. ”
“No.” Brennan shakes his head as he tries to back away, but one of the guards pushes him back in the middle. “He already almost killed me. Reed and Chandler will pay you whatever you want.”
“Little boy, I can buy you with the change in my pocket. Shut the fuck up.” Stone’s icy facade drops, but only for a second.
I guess he’s just as eager as us to get this over with.
“Mr. King.” He tilts his head toward Brennan and whistles.
Then, he pulls out another pair of black gloves and throws them at King.
“No DNA, please.” He takes a deep breath.
“Hurry. I’m eager to go home and get to bed. ”