Chapter 19
Jasmina
I DON’T KNOW WHY I was fuming mad still when we got back to the estate. He didn’t love women, he’d said. Well, I didn’t love men either. We didn’t have time for that when we were working for our families.
Love was blinding. I’d seen how Paolo had loved Lex, how he’d done everything he could for her rather than the people he should have.
We’d drove home in silence, not sharing a word of our emotions with one another after I asked if he was going to still see her. And as soon as I walked into the foyer, Callahan nodded to Archer. “Good to have you here tonight.”
Archer nodded. “I’ll be around for a month or two.” I saw Archer had a small cut on his cheek, but I didn’t dare ask from what.
Then, Callahan said, “Get her dinner tonight? I’m going to have company.”
Company? If he so much as brought that bitch into this house … “What company?” I crossed my arms and waited, tapping my foot.
“That’s not your concern.” His tone was clipped as he responded to me.
“Great.” I turned to Archer. “I’d love it if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
“What?” Callahan’s brows slammed down.
I tilted my head and fake pouted. “Can I not have dinner in this house with someone, Cally baby?”
Callahan’s jaw popped three times before he answered through clenched teeth. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeated before stomping off, because what more was there to say? He wasn’t really mine. And his mother wasn’t really going to be my mother-in-law.
So, claiming him as that was ridiculous. And being hurt his mother didn’t approve was even more idiotic.
He let me go. We didn’t need to spend extra time together when I was considering slitting his throat.
The knock on the door later that evening had me grumbling to Romeo, “Don’t they all know by now the only guy I like here is you?” Romeo stretched on the bed and made no effort to get up to go to the door.
Neither did I. I was perfecting a crocodile stitch and was not going to remove all the yarn for anyone, especially Callahan’s rude ass.
Then again, Callahan had a habit of not knocking.
“What? I’m going to bed,” I called out.
“It’s Archer. Got the dinner I was asked to bring?”
That was interesting. Callahan was letting him come to my bedroom, which either meant he was still concerned about me eating, didn’t care that I could have relations with Archer, or was having his own relations and felt guilty about it.
Or all the freaking above.
Damn it. I hated how my stomach turned thinking about that.
Romeo lifted his head, and his bright eyes seemed to ask me if I’d consider it.
Frankly, my stomach was growling. “Fine. Open sesame.”
Archer and his whole burly self with all black on walked in with a platter of chicken tenders and fries.
Callahan had learned and listened to a valuable thing I’d taught him. I’d never say no to good old-fashioned kid food.
“You brought a feast.”
“I brought what I’ve been told you should eat all of.” He set the plate down on the bed as he frowned at all the yarn.
“It’s supposed to look like this,” I defended myself. “Well, not really. It’s sort of a mess.”
“Okay, well …” He started to back out of the room.
“You’re supposed to eat dinner with me, remember?”
“Right. Or I could be right outside your door for you if you need me?”
“If I need you?” I tilted my head at him. “Why exactly would I need you rather than want you to have dinner with me?”
He smiled genuinely. “You’re in a new place. If you hear something, or—”
“I’m not scared, and I can take care of myself probably better than most of you would take care of me.”
He frowned before asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m sure you have the same idea as everyone else about me being here: It’s more work for you and you’d rather I wasn’t. I’m a Ruiz. I know what that means to you.”
“So? You insinuating I’d let something happen to you?” he asked in a tone that was appalled. “I wouldn’t,” he said seriously enough that I believed him. “You’re about to be a Knight and a Diamond, Ms. Ruiz. I take my job seriously.”
I looked him up and down. “Serious enough to prove it?”
“Prove what?”
“I do need help untangling the yarn at the foot of my bed.” I pointed with a crochet hook.
“Well, that’s not—”
“You said if I need you. I do need help with this.”
He glanced behind him and then back at me again. “You’re serious?”
“Dead.”
“Fine,” he huffed, and then he grabbed a big ball and glared at it. “This is a mess.” Then he looked around the room and saw a few of my clothes on the floor. “Your room doesn’t look great either. Callahan hates a mess.”
I lifted a brow. “Does he now?”
“Yeah, one time he even brought cleaners to my house because he couldn’t stand it.”
“Really?” I chuckled. “You’re that messy, Archer?”
And that’s how our friendship started. He talked my ear off about his past, and I listened while I ate. After about twenty minutes, I said through a bite, “I’m surprised you’re not complaining about being here. I appreciate the company rather than you standing outside my door.”
“Better than having Mia talk to me about her plants. When she moved in with Jameson, I watched her sometimes—”
“You did?” Interesting. “Callahan and Jameson trust you, then?”
“Callahan trusts everyone here. He wouldn’t have a man he didn’t trust watching his future wife, Jasmina.”
“Is that the only reason someone’s outside my door always?” I asked, leaning against the headboard of the bed.
“Well, I hear you can throw a weapon better than a few of the guys here, so …” He shrugged like he was the one who could deal with that. “I’m sure when they post someone here, it’s me, Zander, or someone who can handle you. Better me against you than others.”
“Oh, really?”
He chuckled, his fingers working methodically through a tangled ball of yarn. It was such a strange, domestic contrast to the conversation, but then again, I knew me crocheting was just as strange too. “I’ve been throwing knives since infancy. I’m sure Cal figures it takes a weapon to know one.”
I tried sizing him up before I asked, “How’d you get that cut on your cheek?”
He glanced at me, and I saw how his eyes didn’t really darken—they went almost hollow, like he was emptying his soul from the memories he was having. Then, he shrugged, blinked, and smiled. “Not your concern.”
I shrugged back. “Okay, how about you tell me how good of a shot you are?”
He smirked without looking up from the yarn. “I do fine.”
“Show me,” I said, shoving my comforter down and hopping out of bed in my white PJs. I moved not with anger, but with excitement; I loved a bit of good competition. It beat the suffocating jealousy I kept feeling thinking of Callahan with Demi.
He kept unknotting the yarn. “Callahan wouldn’t like that.”
“Callahan doesn’t like anything,” I scoffed. I didn’t have to go far for my gear. I reached between the mattress and the frame, pulling out two slim, balanced throwing spikes, then grabbed the folding blade from my nightstand.
Archer was quiet as I came to stand beside him. For a second, I thought he’d shut it down. But then I saw his mouth lift just a little on one side. The yarn was set aside.
Victory was mine.
“Yeah, fuck it. Let’s have some fun. We need a target that won’t cause permanent damage.” He scanned the area. “The drywall in here is shit.”
“My suitcase?” I ran to my walk-in closet and rolled it out. He set it up on my vanity, and I found some Post-its in a drawer that I could stick on it. “Perfect.” I glanced at him. “Ready?”
For the next half hour, the room was filled with the rhythmic thwack-slide-thwack of steel meeting fabric, and I had to admit, Archer didn’t throw like it was only a hobby of his.
He didn’t wind up or use theatrics. He even pulled a blade from a low-profile rig hidden inside his sleeve.
It was a slider that put the hilt right in his palm with a flick of his wrist.
“You’re gripping the handle too tight,” I told him when he missed once. “You’ll fight the rotation when really you should be letting the weight of the steel do the work.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I saw something behind them, something he held back from most. Archer was easygoing but I think he hid a coiled darkness inside him.
I knew because I held back a lot too. He sucked his teeth and then glanced back at the target like he was considering if I’d been going easy on him.
Well, at least he was catching on to that.
He adjusted his grip, feeling the balance point of the blade. Then we both watched as he threw and the knife buried itself right into the Post-it.
Damn, that feeling was cathartic. My turn felt just as good. Every throw felt like I was releasing a bit of the emotion that had pent up inside me from throughout the day.
And Archer was easy to talk to when he wasn’t being a stone wall.
He even listened to me bitch about Demi, his own throws never straying more than a centimeter from the center. He didn’t judge; he just handed me back my knives after each round.
I retrieved my blades, my chest huffing slightly from the adrenaline. I pointed to right above the zipper.
“See that spot?” I looked at him, my eyes narrowed. “It’s Demi tonight.”
I didn’t even hesitate. My hand blurred, and a silver flash crossed the room. The knife hit exactly where I wanted, dead center.
Archer smiled. “Demi’s not so bad, Ms. Ruiz.”
“Look, we can be on first-name terms. It’s Jasmina. Just don’t ruin it by telling me how great she is.”
“Well, she’s really not that bad, Jasmina.”
I turned to him and gave him the evil eye. “Don’t ruin our newfound friendship, Archer. I already told Romeo I don’t like anyone here but him.”
“The cat?”
“Yes. He’s not even hissing at you right now, which means we are giving you a chance. If you side with Callahan and Demi, we’ll be forced to exile you to the outside forevermore.”
“Outside your door?”
“Of course. It’s a much worse place. You don’t get to do target practice.”
“I’m not always going to be one outside your door.” He shrugged.
“Got better things to do?”