Danny

 

 

If sex was a drug, I would be a total junkie, and I am not ashamed to admit it. It’s been over a week since we flew back from Hawaii, and Wylder is still going at me like he hasn’t ever touched me before.

It’s obscene the things he’s done to my body and the things he’s let me do to his. I crave him, want him, submit to him without conscious thought. All the time.

And I revel in it all, every wicked, dirty moment of having him inside me. If someone, anyone, had told me a few weeks ago that I would fall in love with a man like Wylder, I would have laughed in their face and slapped some sense into them.

But it’s true. After that chilling conversation and the confusing answer he gave me—justice, I mean, honestly, I don’t get it—we spent the rest of our days having sex on every surface in that house, on the beach, and once in the ocean, which led to some serious embarrassment for me because, damn, that water went places it didn’t belong.

It wasn’t all just sex though, which would have been fine. I mean, I am a girl. I need closeness and conversation, you know? It was all fine until the stupid, idiotic oaf decided to go all sweet on me and treat me like a princess.

I think Wylder might be nuts, but if he is, he’s a diabolical nutter with some very smart methods. He’s succeeded in reeling me in with nothing more than a change in his usually icy attitude, and I fell for it, even knowing it was wrong.

Don’t be all judgie. You have to understand that I am adrift here and the only life raft I have is Wylder. He’s literally all I have. I talk to no one else, see no one else other than the staff, who scuttle around like ghosts and don’t say a word to me.

He’s become the center of my universe, and he knows just how to play me. Take last night for example. I was stressing out about my dad, who is back today and should be on our doorstep any minute, and what did Wylder do? He took me out of the attic room where I sleep—just me, because he leaves after sex, just like a freaking pig!—and spent the night making love to me before cuddling me and stroking my aching muscles until I fell asleep.

It was so…romantic.

Until I woke up back in the attic room in the wee hours of the morning!

Dammit, I am definitely not right in the head if I am lost for a man who treats me like a hooker. I feel like freaking Anastasia from that book, with my own room and lack of sharing.

Because I just realized—I hit my head here and doh! like Homer Simpson—Wylder doesn’t reeeeally share anything with me, does he? More often than not, I am doing all the talking, and if he does tell me stuff, it usually ends with him threatening to off me if I betray him.

Aaaaw, the butterflies of romance just fill me, I think derisively, scowling at a pound of cookies that I made before I started thinking right. Cookies for Wylder, who confessed he has a rabid sweet tooth and loves coconut cookies with chocolate glaze.

All of this is making me crazier, and I envision Wylder taking me out and offing me because I eventually turn into the crazy person in the attic with no speech and minimal self-sufficiency.

I’m also worried about Lori, who I haven’t heard of in all the time I have been here. At first I was just focused on me, like a freaking self-absorbed loser, and then Wylder zapped me with his cocaine dick. Now that I am waking up from the sex trance, I feel terrible about not giving a shit about a woman who was there for me in my darkest hour.

And I feel adrift because, like I had to hear him remind me over and over again, I am in check here and no matter what move I make, I’m going to lose a piece unless I keep him in play.

Or whatever. I don’t understand half the stuff he says to me lately. All I know is that I have never been this content and yet freaked out in my life. I feel like if one wave isn’t dragging me under, then it’s another coming at me, with only Wylder there to keep me afloat.

“Hey, sweet thing.”

I turn with a scowl and narrow my eyes at him as he saunters in, his smile not slipping an inch as I glare and mentally rip his guts out.

“Are those cookies for me?”

He sounds smug, and I would give anything for that half-melted toothbrush right now when he shoves one in his mouth and groans, his happiness at this further sign of weakness making my hackles rise.

“What are you smiling about?” I ask suspiciously.

The only time he looks this happy is when he’s getting one over on somebody, and with that smirk, I have the unholy suspicion that I’m in the line of fire.

“Can’t a man just be happy?”

“No. You told me you ‘don’t do that happy shit,’” I point out, biting into a cookie even though I hate coconut.

And isn’t that just hilarious? The man loves the stuff and I hate it, talk about a clear indication of how messed up our relationship is.

Wylder pauses and tilts his head, eyeing me thoughtfully before grinning again.

“You’re right, so let’s rephrase this. Can’t a man just be smug?”

“Oh God, what did you do now, rob a five-year-old of her candy allowance?” I snark, gagging at the little coconut pieces that spread over my tongue.

He laughs outright at my sarcasm and shakes his head at my grumpy gibes.

“Are you getting your period?”

Motherfu—

“No! Not that it’s any of your business, Wylder, but when you smile like this, it usually means you’ve managed to screw someone over, and the last few days, it’s only been me in the house.”

He chokes at that and is still laughing as he pushes me into a seat at the table, pours us both some milk, and shoves a candy bar at me while he sits over his plate of cookies like he’s a prisoner protecting his daily rations.

“For your information, your period is my business, seeing as you belong to me and I can’t fuck you if you’re bleeding.”

“You are such an animal!”

He just smiles as if I haven’t called him some variation of an animal constantly. He deserves it. Just listen to the stuff he says to me all the time.

“I’m a dog, I know, but you know it’s true, and yeah, I am smug, but it’s got nothing to do with you so lay off me and eat your chocolate, woman. Is this bad mood because I didn’t eat you out like I usually do first thing? I had a call to make, baby,” he says softly, making my blood pressure go through the roof.

For many reasons, but I refuse to admit that part of it is instant arousal.

“Wylder, for God’s sake, you’re turning me into a lunatic. I don’t know if I am coming or going half the time with the mood swings you throw at me, not to mention the fact that this whole situation is just unhealthy,” I wail, breaking down because I can’t take another minute more of this.

I just stood and baked cookies for a maniac like some freaking housewifey woman when, in reality, I shouldn’t be doing a thing but planning some Jason Bourne escape and a means to tell my family what is really happening!

And all because I’m hot for this man. What the hell is wrong with me, and how can I be swanning around like lady of the manor when things are all wrong?

“It is not unhealthy. Fuck, Danny, things have been good,” he mutters, still eating because not even a crime scene can kill Wylder’s appetite, and what does that tell ya?

“It is. We should never have met. Don’t you get that? And here I am having sex and making freaking goo-goo eyes at you when any sane individual would have stabbed you with a steak knife and run for help.”

“So, why haven’t you?” he asks softly, making me tense and look away.

I haven’t because after Hawaii I didn’t want to. It’s not right that it hurts to think of leaving Wylder. It’s all wrong, and I know it, and yet my main worry lately has been how to convincingly lie to my dad about the man because I don’t want him to get hurt if Daddy finds out.

Part of it is still about my family and those thugs who will kill them, but I have to confess that I am also not happy about Wylder being hurt. Wrong. It’s all wrong, but I don’t know how to change the way I feel.

“Danny?” he pushes, using a hand to turn my face and cup my jaw. “Why haven’t you tried to run if that’s what you feel is right?”

I should slap his hand away and just leave, but as I have already noted, I am a fool, a freaking idiot, and I just don’t know when to quit. Or be smart.

“Because if I do, then a lot of people will get hurt and I won’t ever know,” I whisper tremulously, swallowing the pain that swells my throat.

“Know what, baby?”

He’s still got my chin, and I can’t turn my head, but I do lower my eyes, no longer able to hold his gaze because I don’t want him to see what I feel. Feeling these things is already hard enough. Having Wylder know that I feel them would be a disaster.

First off, he’d probably find it hilarious, and then I’d attack him, and things would not end well. Mostly for me because that is a one-way ticket to coffinville.

I also don’t want or relish the certainty that he won’t say it back. Because he won’t. Wylder loves the sex and worships my body, but that is it. He doesn’t ‘do love.’

Or decency, apparently, I think when he slides his other hand over my thigh and stops just short of my sex.

“Talk to me or I’ll tie you to the bed and lick it out of you,” he warns.

Images and the ghostly feeling of his tongue at my sex have me squirming and inching closer, wanting that hand on me, distracting us both from this conversation.

He doesn’t blink though and clamps his fingers over my thigh, holding me still while he waits for my answer.

“I may enjoy that,” I whisper, going for seduction that fails all too easily, reminding me that Wylder is always in control.

“No, you really wouldn’t. Trust me on that, baby. Why haven’t you tried to get away if you think it’s the right thing to do? Why stay with me? Why ignore every chance I’ve given you to pick up a knife and try to kill me?”

He’s so serious as he looks at me, his confusion and the strange light in his eyes making me quake inside. I need to lie here, tell him that I don’t have a choice and being with him is nothing more than survival.

I have to lie, and yet what I say is nothing but the dirty truth.

“I don’t want you to get hurt if I leave,” I whisper, closing my eyes against the harsh reality. “If I go and they catch me, it’s not just me on the block. Your family has lost enough. You’ve lost enough. Maybe you’d live. Hell, you’d definitely live after you killed them all, but at what cost, Wylder? I won’t be responsible for getting your family killed. I won’t be the reason that another person you love dies.”

I expect laughter and some sarcastic gibe about what a stupid ass I am, but Wylder doesn’t react that way. No, he rears back, yanking his hand away as if scalded, and pushes to his feet so violently the chair tips and slams into the floor with a crash.

And then he just walks away without a word, his body taught and vibrating with something I can only identify as anger.

Well, shit! Great. I pour my heart out and the idiot gets mad at me. What a freaking joke.

His reaction isn’t surprising though because, as good as he can be at this seduction stuff, Wylder sucks at the heart stuff, the real nitty gritty of human emotion.

The only time I’ve seen him actually be human was when Wolf came over for dinner the night we got back and they talked about business. I asked about Lori a hundred times, and I was ignored, but it didn’t bug me too much because I was fascinated by the change in Wylder.

For the first time, I got to see him as I think he truly is, and it floored me. He and Wolf may rag each other to death, but there’s so much love and affection in their tones that it was painful to watch at times.

With me, it’s just sex and the basic politeness. I think the best I will ever get by way of affection is when he lets me cuddle him before I fall asleep. But never all night as we did in Hawaii.

Here in the real world, he’s back to business, and he makes sure I understand that he’ll be nice as long as I stick to the brief and don’t get too demanding.

I snort at that as I clean up the remains of his snack and fling the candy bar back into the cupboard. Oh no, not demanding. I can’t say freaking boo without him okaying it, and honestly, as I clean up and try not to cry like a loser, I fully accept that I have spent the last few days lying to myself about things because I wanted to.

He’ll never bend for me. We’re ‘engaged,’ and as far as life goes, this is it for me unless I can get over people dying if I make the wrong move. Will we ever get married? Do I want to?

Why is everything so messed up, and God, why am I so messed up over a man who can’t even tell me he wants me without making it sound like a threat or as if I’m a hooker?

I spend the rest of the day moping around the garden and sitting in the gazebo to escape Wylder, no better off by the time he finds me around dinner and drags me back inside than I was hours before.

The worst thing about this whole situation is that I don’t have any answers. I’m a prisoner in a gilded cage. I love a man who is all wrong for me. I am a liar and a cheat who’s hoodwinking the people I love. I love a guy who is not…

But all I keep asking myself as he tows me into the house is what his endgame is. It’s taken too long, way too long, for me to hit on what he said that day over breakfast after we first had sex, but it’s at the forefront now, and it won’t go away.

Wylder wants justice? For Sparrow?

“Your father is on the phone. I had Wolf answer when his number came up, so be warned. You say what we discussed, and do not try to give him any signals, because I will know, and, Danny, baby, you do not want me angry right now,” he warns when we pause at the door to his office.

My body chills at the hardness in his eyes, and all I can do is nod before he opens the door and lets me in, Wolf’s grimace and silence telling me exactly what to expect from Daddy.

I’m shaking and biting my lips to stop the trembles when I sit at the desk and Wylder hits the talk button.

“Daddy?”

“Danny girl! What the hell is going on?”

I want to giggle at those words, so like Daddy, who doesn’t bother to say hello before attacking me for information. I’m on the edge of a meltdown as I make myself breathe and ignore the men staring at me, focusing only on what I have to do now and keeping my emotions in check.

I want to cry and yell that I need him, that he has to come get me and save me from myself, but instead, I push out a giggle and pretend that this is what I want.

“Well, hello to you too, Major. So nice to hear your voice after weeks of nothing.”

I can just picture his grimace before he grunts and chuckles softly.

“Sorry, bug, you know how it is.”

“I certainly do, Dad. Trust me, I get it, which is why I wasn’t that put out when I had to hear from a machine that you were gone.”

“Danny, as much as I’d love to banter with you now, I am not in a great mood. What the hell is going on? Jon called me yesterday when I got back to base and told me some wild story about my little girl being engaged before I even meet this asshole,” he growls.

If this was a real engagement and I was actually getting married, I’d laugh my ass off and throw Wylder at Daddy and pray he is strong enough to deal with my dad’s brand of affection.

As it is, I can’t let them actually talk alone, because my dad is not always all that nice and Wylder has a hair-trigger temper. They’d both go after each other, guns blazing.

Peeking up at Wylder through my lashes, I note that he hasn’t moved a facial muscle and is staring at me, his face blank and eerily hard. Wolf has to cover his mouth to hide a laugh though, and that makes me feel a little better as I sigh and shake my head as if he can see me.

“When would you have liked to meet him, Dad? I only met Wylder a few months ago, and I didn’t want to jinx things. Besides, I really liked him, and I didn’t want you scaring him away before I could hook him,” I joke, scowling when the insufferable man finally grins and gives me a hot look.

Bastard.

“This doesn’t sound right to me! Christ, Dan, you take days to decide on paint colors and a week to nail down the couch you wanted for your living room. Remember when you got your woman business? I had to wait three months for you to decide on a brand. I was buying out tampons like it was my fucking flow.”

I blush scarlet at that and grit my teeth when Wylder silently laughs so hard Wolf has to grab hold of him before his knees buckle.

“Dad!”

“You know it’s true, Dan. You know it is. So, why are you telling me now that you’re engaged to some guy you hardly even know?” he demands. “This isn’t you. Even with that Flynn chump, it took you almost a year to decide you liked him and even longer to—”

“I get it!” I yell, stiffening when Wolf and Wylder both move forward in interest.

No way will I let Daddy spill the beans about how I made poor Flynn wait so long for nookie. I was young, and I didn’t just want to throw it away, okay? Geez.

“Danny—”

“Dad, I love Wylder, okay? I think it was like love at first sight or something, and trust me, it had to have been strong, because the man is just like you, as gross as that sounds, and he makes me so mad sometimes I want to melt down a toothbrush and gut him like a boss,” I mutter, smiling when Wylder narrows his eyes at me.

Take that, loser.

Daddy is silent for no less than a minute, and I know I have him with that crock of crap when he sighs and mutters a curse.

“Fine, but don’t think I ain’t running a check on this fucker. One wrong move and I’ll take him out.”

“Geez, Dad, he’s standing right here,” I mutter, sticking my tongue out at Wylder when he clenches his fists and gives me a glare.

What? Like he thought I was going to do all the talking and suffer Daddy’s anger by myself? Not after this afternoon’s attitude.

“Wylder? You there, boy?” Daddy barks so loud I see Wylder stand at attention.

I snicker, can’t help myself, and bite my lip when he runs a hand through his hair and pulls at it.

“Yes sir, Mr. Bright. It’s nice to finally meet you, sir.”

“Don’t brownnose me, boy. I don’t like it. Cut the sir shit and shoot straight with me. Do you love my daughter?”

Oooooh, oh, Daddy, I love you, I mentally crow, smiling brightly at him, almost tauntingly, because I know this is one he has to answer in the positive, and even if it’s a lie, it’s likely the first and only time he’ll ever say those words.

“Yes sir,” he finally grits out, giving me a glare when I high-five Wolf, who is loving this.

“Good. You better, because if so much as a hair on my kid’s head is moved in an untoward manner, I will hunt you down like a POW and treat you with less kindness. You got me, boy?”

“Crystal,” Wylder growls, fists clenched because I’m laughing so hard I fall to the floor with tears streaming from my eyes.

It’s all an act though, and I pat myself on the back for it because, in reality, the tears are real. It hurts, like I didn’t believe it would, to hear him say yes when I know it’s not true.

The fact is that Wylder doesn’t feel anything but lust and this weird responsibility for me. He’d kill me in a heartbeat if he had to, and so, yeah, I don’t relish the words as I thought I would, because it drives home all the harder just how untrue they are.

“Good. I’m running a check on your ass.”

“Understood, Major.”

My gut cramps at that, and once I’ve wiped away the tears that they think are mirth, I sit up and stare wide-eyed at them both, Wolf’s grimace making me tense all the more.

“Danny! Tell your old man you love him and then call me tomorrow.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, bug.”

The minute I hear the connection sever I feel alone again. Looking up at Wylder who is not happy, I can only shrug and pretend a casualness I don’t feel.

“You better hope those crooked friends of yours are good at what they do, mobster, or you’re a sitting duck.”

“You’d better hope so too, sweet thing, or you may be an orphan,” he taunts, getting a scowl from me and a look of pity from Wolf.

“Is that supposed to turn me on, Wylder, because it’s falling real short of the mark,” I growl back.

Honestly, does he think I believe half the crap he throws at me? We all know that if he wanted to hurt my family, he’d have done it by now. And just like that, the light bulb that’s been flickering in my head goes bright and illuminates everything for me.

I’m shocked speechless as he frowns at me and starts muttering under his breath while I feel like the freaking Titanic just missed the iceberg and sailed on into New York without a scratch.

I don’t know how I know this or if it’s even true, but I just realized that Wylder gave me a huge clue days ago and I was so preoccupied I didn’t hear what I needed to.

Justice. He told me he wants justice and that he won’t let anyone, not even me, mess with his endgame, and suddenly it is all so clear to me. He’s going after whoever killed his sister. The lowlife scum who took away the light in his family and turned his world upside down.

At least that is what I think as I stare at him and feel like I have answers for the first time. I could be wrong. It’s not unheard of that I believe in aliens only to have a video I swore was real debunked as a firefly and a weird camera angle that made it seem a lot bigger than it was.

But, for now, that is what I am going with because it makes looking at Wylder easier somehow and I want to believe that, for whatever reason, the whys and hows of his criminal career, they’re noble.

I need to believe that he’s not just a heartless thug out to make a dime no matter who gets hurt.

“Why are you staring at me?” he barks when I don’t say a word, just keep looking at him through new eyes.

I blush and mumble something nasty before rising and sailing to the door.

“Daniella!”

“What? God, Wylder, can I go pee without you sending the SS along or standing in the bathroom, you control freak?” I hiss, needing to get the hell out of there before I do something horrible like throw myself at him and kiss his face amidst words of wonder.

“Fine. Fuck. Go, but you’d better not be melting another one of my toothbrushes!”

Wolf snickers at the yell, and I can’t stop a smirk and a quirked brow. He found my shank, laughed himself hoarse, and then told me everything that was wrong with it and how I didn’t do it right.

Stupid, because I took his words to heart and followed his instructions step by step. I now own a very sharp shank that I carry in my sneaker, thanks to my solitude in the gazebo and the boredom that I couldn’t shake. So, take that, Mr. Smarty Pants, I think with a sniff.

I do go pee, I’m not a liar after all, and then spend the rest of the evening pretending Wylder doesn’t exist over a dinner where Wolf does nothing but talk to me and rile Wylder.

All in all, it’s a good day. Now I just have to figure out how I’m gonna find out what I need to. I am no detective, and the Drew tactics for sleuthing are not in my blood, but short of tying Wylder to the bed and getting myself murdered when he gets free, I have no clue how to get answers.

That night is the first time that he doesn’t come to me after I’ve showered and spread myself out on the bed just the way he likes. I lay awake, waiting for two hours, my eyes pinned to the door, before I finally accept that I am wasting my time.

I don’t know why it hurts when he doesn’t come. I should be relieved that I am getting a reprieve and time to think about things. Instead, I spend hours standing at the window, staring out into the darkness with nothing but my doubts and fears to keep me company.

Eventually, I am just too tired to keep standing, waiting, I acknowledge, and crawl into bed feeling rejected and pissed off at the world and more so myself.

He’s probably had his fill of me, I think sourly as my eyes drift shut and I let sleep claim me. That should scare me because if I have no use, I am not needed.

But somehow I don’t believe that I have anything to fear, probably wishful thinking, but it’s what I believe, and right now, I’m living it a moment at a time.