Chapter Thirteen

Addie

I peek out the door. The guy is still there. I’d got a glimpse of him when I’d peeked out feeling like someone was out there. The hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end, and Cliff told me to always listen to that feeling.

“Your body recognizes danger,” he’d growled softly in my ear after he’d surprised me and caught me in a headlock. “Learn to respect that sensation.”

I’d told him that my gut told me he was okay, and he’d reaffirmed he’s dangerous.

It occurs to me now I still know nothing about him. I guess I could have snooped around his place and possibly learned things, but I’d rather wait and let him come to me with who he is.

Though he’s still stubbornly refusing to open up to me.

And no matter how hard I try to get close to him, to get him to work his magic on me sexually again, he’s been steadfast. I want him so much it’s frustrating. And having him startle me, spar with me, put me in holds that leave me vulnerable and not even take advantage of them is starting to get on my nerves.

Last night, I’d kissed him.

And I worry that I drove him away because of it.

But I’m starting to feel desperate to feel his lips on me again, to feel his huge hands on my body, to feel him inside me. I want him to make love to me so bad it aches in my core. Though I’m not sure Cliff makes love. Everything he does is rough around the edges. He’s intense in every way.

I peek out, catching a glimpse of the guy as he stands and scans the place. His face is vaguely familiar. He’s got startling ice-blue eyes and jet-black hair that’s shot blue under the lights.

He’s terrifying. His features are all angles, terrifying and sharp. He looks like the guys back in LA. Model good-looking, impossibly suave, and likely a total asshole.

His cold eyes touch on the door, and I stumble back away from the peephole and trip over the ottoman I’d moved out of the living room to stand on to reach a book.

My head hits the ground, and the world fuzzes out.

***

I wake, blinking up at the ceiling. And realize I’m not alone. The guy from outside is kneeling beside me. I bolt upright and realize I’m on the couch.

“Shhh,” the guy says, and I lash out. My fist smashes into his face, and I’m on my feet running for the bedroom and the gun I’d left on my nightstand table.

I hear him right behind me, and my heart slams in my throat in time with my footfalls. The gun feels cool in my hands as I bring it around and aim at the intruder’s chest.

His hands go up. “I’m Cliff’s friend,” he says, his eyes on my face.

I hesitate, my finger a breath away from the trigger.

“I’ll go,” he says, and I click off the safety. If he goes, my secret goes with him. He hears the tiny sound and freezes.

“You want me to stay?” he asks, and I nod.

“Hands behind your head,” I say.

He does as I say, and I move in to see if he’s armed the way Cliff taught me. “He told me if I come in, I’m dead.”

It rings true. That’s something Cliff would have warned someone if he told them something about me at all. Because he told me to kill anyone who came after me here.

Cliff told someone I’m here. He betrayed me.

The guy isn’t armed. “On your knees,” I say, and he drops, but there’s a second of hesitation.

I take a seat across the room, gun ready.

“I’m Dakin,” he says. “I’ve known Cliff since he was a kid. We’ve been friends for forever.”

I say nothing, but I’m listening.

“He’s a good guy. Doesn’t talk much.” He lets out a tense laugh. His head turns to the side like he’s trying to see where I am behind him. “So, how did you meet him?” he asks, and I don’t answer. I’m not giving him any ammo.

He sighs. “You’re both big talkers, huh?”

I’m not saying a damn thing.

A knock at the door startles me, and I bolt to my feet. “Who did you call?” I demand, pressing the gun to the back of Dakin’s head. For a moment I wonder if I could actually do it—pull the trigger and end a man’s life.

Cliff told me hesitation equals death. But something in me whispers a reminder that death is forever.

“Let me go find out.” He’s calm.

“Don’t betray me, or I’ll kill you both.” My threat has him nodding. He rises to his feet and walks out to the living room. I watch him closely, waiting for any sign of betrayal.

He peeks out the peephole and opens the door, leaning on the doorframe in a way that blocks the person from entering. “Hey, Zac. Cliff isn’t here. Go home.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” The voice on the other side is cold, angry.

And Dakin is just as furious just as fast. “He’s your fucking friend. Can you trust him for two goddamned seconds?”

Silence.

“Can you trust me, then?” Dakin asks.

The other guy seems to finally get it. “Fine. When will he be back?” the other guy asks, and I study Dakin for any clues he’s betraying me. Everything seems normal, and I relax just a little. I hear Cliff’s warning in my ear.

Don’t let your guard down.

“Later tonight.” Dakin sounds bored.

“I’ll be back,” the other guy says, and I breathe a sigh of relief as Dakin closes the door. With quick steps, I walk over to lock it.

Too late, I realize it’s swinging open. It slams into me, knocking me to the floor. The gun clatters and slides across the hardwood floors out of my reach.

The guy at the door leaps on me, and I fight him as Dakin grabs the gun.

“Zac!” Dakin shouts, but I see the light of recognition in the guy’s eyes as he holds my wrists down on either side of my head, his weight pinning me down. His eyes widen and he studies my face, my hair, then my eyes.

“You’re Madeline Bounder.” He’s sure, and my heart sinks to my belly. “You’re under arrest for assault. Dakin, grab her hands.” He looks up at his friend as I struggle to free myself, tears flowing down my cheeks.

But Dakin doesn’t come. “Cliff had her here. At least wait to see what he has to say, first. He promised he’d explain everything tonight when he got back.”

The words are all it takes for me to go limp. He didn’t just betray me; he was going to turn me in.

Zac seems to feel it. He rolls me over and cuffs my hands behind my back. “You’re fighting the wrong side of this battle,” he says to Dakin, who refuses to look at me as Zac hauls me to my feet.

I feel utterly defeated as I stand there between the guys glaring daggers at one another.