Hate and chaos the compl.., p.29
Hate & Chaos : The Complete Duet, page 29
“How many times must you be told?” I can almost smell her perfume, heavy and floral, and it’s enough to make me gag. I could always smell it on my clothes hours after being around her since she wore so much.
“No matter how clever you think you are, someone is always watching you. We will always be one step ahead.”
Lids squeezed closed tightly, I breathe deep to steady myself. I can’t get her out of my head. Over the past few days, I’ve seen her everywhere.
Along with William. Even Joseph, and I know he’s dead.
It doesn’t matter. He’s still alive in my memory, just as big, imposing, and merciless as ever.
Not this time, bitch. This time, I’m a step ahead of you.
I flex my hands, remembering how they felt coated in Christian’s blood. He always considered himself untouchable, didn’t he?
Secure in his power. And look where he is now.
Even with all my reassurances, it isn’t until we reach the suite I reserved that I’m able to relinquish my hold on Scarlet. We’re safe here. “Don’t open the door for anyone.” I remind her just the same, checking out the bathroom and the closet in case someone is lying in wait. I wouldn’t put it past them.
“Don’t worry.” She’s busy exploring the suite, admiring the expansive mountain view, the marble counters, and the shower, even bouncing on the king-sized bed as if to test it out. It does look a lot more comfortable than the one we’ve gotten used to sharing.
“I do worry. You are far too precious not to worry about.”
She only smiles brightly while unpacking our dinner outfits and hanging them in the closet. It took another trip to town, but we now own clothes suitable for dinner in a nice steakhouse.
From Walmart. Fuck, I owe her so much. She’s used to more than this. She was raised to stand by the side of a mafia boss and shop in high-end boutiques.
Yet she’s never once complained.
I’m able to forget everything else for a moment.
“Come here.” I take a seat at the foot of the bed before pulling her onto my lap. “I want you to know I intend to make this up to you. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll make up for the time we’ve lost and all the shit I’ve put you through. I promise.”
Her eyes twinkle as she runs a hand down my cheek. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
For now, I’m at peace.
“I should have sat outside.”
It takes a second for Scarlet’s comment to filter into my awareness, rising above the cheerful din of the restaurant and the ever-present chaos in my head.
“What do you mean?” I ask, turning to her, admiring once again how beautiful she is in the light from the candle in the center of the table. It casts a warm glow over her perfect face, and for a moment, I can almost believe she truly is an angel sent to me.
The sarcastic twist of her glossy mouth brings reality crashing back before she speaks. “We’ve been sitting here for forty-five minutes, and I think you’ve looked at me twice.”
She then makes a big deal of looking outside, squinting, and leaning closer to the window overlooking the Riverwalk. “I don’t see anybody threatening out there. You can’t expect them to be everywhere we go. You’ll drive yourself nuts.”
She’s being gentle and loving, but that doesn’t keep me from bristling. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t expect. I know these people. You don’t.”
Immediately, she sits up straighter, nodding firmly. “Of course. I didn’t think about it like that. But I wish you could enjoy yourself a little since we came all this way.”
“I’m enjoying you enjoying yourself.”
All she does is pick up her silverware and return to her grilled salmon after offering a half-hearted smile. More than half of my porterhouse is still left, but I can’t seem to find the appetite for it, no matter how delicious it is or how incredible it smells in the restaurant.
Focus. Who cares about a fucking steak?
True, when we’re only miles from New Haven.
What are the odds that someone recognized me as we drove through town or while we drove the few minutes to the restaurant? Why did I think coming out for dinner would be a good idea? We should’ve gotten room service. I could be in bed with my angel right now, secure behind the double-bolted door while she’s splayed out under me on that big bed. My dick twitches at the notion, one I intend to turn into reality very soon.
Instead, we have a server who can’t take his eyes off her every time he stops by the table. I’ve never had a server pay this many visits during a single meal. It doesn’t help that Scarlet manages to make an inexpensive dress look like it cost a fortune, her perfect body encased in black fabric that molds itself to her every curve. I’m surprised a line of horny customers isn’t waiting their turn to ogle her.
As if he hears me, he slows his progress on his way past. “And how is everything? How’s that salmon treating you?” he asks her, wearing a smile that makes me wonder how he’d look with all of his teeth knocked out.
I rap my knuckles against the table. “Don’t you have a job to do? Why don’t you go someplace else and do it?”
He has the nerve to widen his eyes like he’s shocked when he finally looks my way—yeah, dickhead, I’m sitting here, too—before sputtering, “I’m sorry, sir, I was only—”
“Keep moving unless you want me to talk to your manager.”
He wastes no time scurrying away like the rodent he is, leaving Scarlet staring at me, her cheeks flushed.
I won’t pretend to be sorry, no matter how embarrassed she is. “What? I’m supposed to sit here and let him hit on you without saying anything?”
“He wasn’t,” she whispers. “He was only doing his job. That’s what servers do. Ask how your food is, and see if you need drink refills.”
“They don’t need to stare down a guest’s dress while they’re doing it.” She adjusts the top of her dress, eyes shifting back and forth almost guiltily as she arranges her blond waves over her shoulders. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to flirt with him.
But I do know better. This is Scarlet. She would never betray me.
“You’ve betrayed your family.” Rebecca’s soft voice slithers its way up my spine from across the span of years. “You’ve betrayed Joseph. Christian informed me you’ve refused to fall in line. What must we do before you’ll stop with this defiance?”
“Ren?”
My gaze snaps from the window and back to her. “What?”
She says nothing, merely lowering her gaze until she’s staring at the steak knife clutched tight in my fist. I guess I’d be nervous, too, if a knife was pointed at me. I loosen my grip, eventually lowering it to the plate.
The steak is probably cold by now, anyway.
Rebecca isn’t here. None of them are. You’re destroying everything.
“Maybe we should see about getting dessert in the room. What do you think?” I’m losing my grip here. And she sees it, making everything exponentially worse. I’m not sure if I’m more concerned with hurting her or with her getting cold feet at the last minute. Both, I suppose.
The fact is, I could always make it up to her later if she’s upset. We have the rest of our lives for that. On the other hand, I doubt we’ll ever get another chance to successfully infiltrate New Haven.
Maybe if her father had done the job correctly, we wouldn’t be here at all. Maybe if he had truly gotten rid of Rebecca.
That isn’t her fault.
I can’t take it out on Scarlet.
“I think that sounds like a good idea,” she murmurs and immediately starts looking around.
Heat flares in my gut, and my fists clench.
Looking for her little boyfriend?
I shake the thought away. I need to stop this. What the fuck is happening to me? I can normally keep a lid on my temper for her sake—mostly—but now, so close to New Haven, so close to the most dangerous phase yet, all bets are off.
“We’ll go to the hostess and let her know we need our check.” I push back from the table and take her by the arm, pulling her along with me. She winces, and I loosen my hold. Fuck. “I’m not waiting around for that asshole to hit on you again.”
“He wasn’t.” I pretend not to hear that. I’m afraid if I wait, if I have to interact with him again, I might do something she’ll hate me for. The idea only heightens the rage threatening to eat its way through me.
A few couples are waiting for tables when we reach the stand near the entrance. The girl looks up at me, wearing a bright smile that quickly fades when she finds me scowling.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she chirps.
“Yes. You can locate our server and our check since he wasn’t able to keep from flirting with my girlfriend long enough to do his job. We haven’t finished our meal yet, but I couldn’t stand sitting there a second longer.”
Her mouth falls open, and somewhere under the bass drum of my heartbeat, I hear Scarlet’s dismayed groan.
The hostess clears her throat, sputtering, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“I am so sorry. That is not how we—”
“I’m not interested in excuses. Please, just get the check, so we can get out of here.” She holds a whispered conversation with another server before they both hurry off, leaving the stand empty.
Scarlet has her gaze trained on the floor when I turn to her.
“What?” I whisper, eyes sweeping the entry. “What’s wrong?”
Finally, I lock eyes with a guy standing near the door, wearing a dark polo shirt and khakis. If there was ever a douchebag uniform, that’s it.
“What are you looking at?” I mutter, jerking my chin in his direction while the couple standing near him backs away slowly.
Rather than address me, he makes the grave mistake of smirking at Scarlet.
“If you ever decide to drop the psycho and date a guy who won’t embarrass you in public, let me know.”
This fucking asshole.
A siren begins blaring in my head, loud enough that I want to cover my ears but know it won’t make a difference. Even now, with my vision red and a craving for this stupid bastard’s balls strong enough to knock the breath out of me.
Though that’s where rational thought ends.
“Ren!” Scarlet’s high-pitched squeal fades to the background in favor of the pained groan that results from my fist connecting with the stupid asshole’s cheekbone. Douchebag.
“Say it again,” I growl, hauling him upright once he begins to slide down the wood-paneled wall. “Come on, you piece of shit. Say it again.”
When he does nothing but groan, I pull my fist back and hit him again. Again. Blood blooms on his lips as if by magic, and the sight only heightens the joy of breaking his face open one blow at a time.
He thinks he can take her from me. He thinks I’ll step aside and let him do what he wants. That I’m weak enough to let that happen.
“Yo, dude, lay off him.” Some foolish bystander tries to pull me away, but all it takes is my glare to send him running with his tail between his legs. Whatever he sees, it’s enough to drain the color from his face.
He tried to take her from me.
Nobody will ever take her from me.
Not if I have to burn the entire fucking world down to keep her in my grasp.
“Ren! Stop!” I hear the fear in her voice when I let the now unconscious body hit the floor, but she might as well be miles away. Nothing matters more than teaching this piece of shit a lesson he’ll never forget. And if bystanders witness it and learn a lesson, good. Everyone needs to know.
“You’re not taking her from me.”
Dropping to one knee, I pound on his nose and his jaw until my knuckles are bloodstained and aching. And still, it isn’t enough.
“You are not.” Another blow. “Fucking bastard.” Another.
I register Scarlet’s body practically draped over mine before hearing her frantic cry almost directly in my ear.
“You need to stop. Now. We have to go.”
Her nails dig into my arms, accompanied by a fierce whisper. “They’re calling the police.”
That’s what does it.
Those four words are the pin that bursts the balloon of my rage.
Beneath me is a bloodied, battered man who, moments ago, was smirking and sure of himself. I did this. I wiped that smirk off his face before rearranging it for him. “Won’t be hitting on anybody after this, will you?” I mutter, standing, my chest heaving, my cock threatening to burst out from my pants, all from the sheer exhilaration of defeating my foe.
Not with a face like that.
I did more than defeat him. He’s out cold, his face a broken, bloody mess. Somewhere behind me, a woman weeps softly.
“Come on.” Scarlet tugs my arm, inspiring me to hustle us both out the door. No one bothers to stop us after they’ve seen what I’m capable of. I parked close to the entrance in case we needed to get away quickly.
As it turns out, we do.
It doesn’t occur to me until we’re rolling down the street that we never paid for dinner.
Who the fuck cares? I checked into the hotel under a fake name, and this isn’t my Jeep. Even if somebody caught sight of the tags, there’d be no tracing it back to me. We’re out of here in the morning, anyway.
Right? Am I kidding myself? Fuck, I don’t know anything anymore.
Except one thing. “I will never accept that shit from anyone. Ever.”
Scarlet shakes, whimpering, looking over her shoulder like she expects to find cars chasing us down.
“Are you okay?” she squeaks.
Am I? I’m fucking euphoric, my body humming, adrenaline still flowing. I could’ve killed the bastard, and I almost wish I had. If it hadn’t been for her presence—and the others around us—I’m not sure I could’ve stopped myself. The smug, arrogant prick.
“I’m fine.” I catch her staring at my fists and shake my head. “They’re fine, too. It doesn’t even hurt.” Not when I’m flying high the way I am now. Nothing can touch me.
“That was…” She settles back in her seat, a hand over her chest.
“Are you okay?” I know she can’t be concerned for him. I already told her I’m fine. It’s not the first time she’s ever witnessed violence.
I can’t imagine why she’s still shaking.
After keeping me waiting until we reach the hotel garage, she slowly turns to me. “I thought you were going to kill him. I thought he might actually be dead.”
“I wish I had killed him. He deserved it.” Turning to her upon parking, I stare into her shining, teary, blue eyes. She’s crying. I see it, but for some reason, I don’t feel anything. It does nothing to me. “He was a disrespectful piece of shit who thought he could take you from me.”
She continues breathing heavily like she’s teetering on the edge of panic. Her chest rising and falling so rapidly that I’m almost worried.
“Nobody’s ever taking you away from me,” I whisper, taking her face in my bloodstained hands.
She doesn’t flinch away. She wouldn’t. She can handle anything I give her because she was made for me. She was made for this.
“Nobody ever will.”
She couldn’t have chosen better words. Desire for her is always coursing through my veins, but mixed with the adrenaline still present? It’s a potent combination, powerful enough to leave me practically dragging her into the hotel. My queen, my prize. I must get her back to the suite. I need to taste victory, to claim her again. Mine, mine alone.
She doesn’t say a word until we’re in the elevator. “Ren—”
I back her into the corner, caging her in with my frame, indulging my hands in the feel of her skin as I work them under her dress.
Nothing can stop me. No one.
Which is why the tensing of her body leaves me growling, our noses touching. Only when she cringes when I attempt to work my fingers between her thighs do I demand an answer.
“What? Afraid of a little public play?”
She tries to turn her face away, eyes closed, but she’s no match for my hand on her jaw, turning her to face me. Escaping me is futile; doesn’t she already know this? Maybe she needs to be reminded.
It’s then I see the problem. My hands, the blood dried and flaking off the bruised knuckles. Instantly, I release her, and when I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall, there’s no missing the flecks of blood on my shirt.
I wouldn’t sully my angel with this asshole’s blood if my life depended on it. He wasn’t even a worthy adversary. There was no chance of him taking her from me.
A better idea stirs in the back of my mind when the elevator chimes, signaling we’ve reached our floor. She follows wordlessly—there’s no mistaking the energy crackling between us, though, certain of where the night will end. Unworthy adversary or not, I fought and nearly killed someone for her.
She’s still scared. I can feel it, smell it on her, but something else lingers beneath. The thrill. Her arousal is thick by the time I swipe the key card in the lock to our door. Yeah, she might be afraid, but she’s equally turned on.
“Take that off. All of it,” I mutter, bolting the door before crossing the suite. The fact that she doesn’t need to ask why or what I have in mind stirs a smile as I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
“We should really talk about what just happened.” Her tone irritates me, like a mother scolding her child.
“I thought I told you to take your clothes off?”
She stops in the doorway, shaking her head like the brat she can be. I ought to know. “We have to talk first.”
“What is there to talk about?” I meet her gaze in the mirror before peeling off my shirt. “Unless you wish I would’ve let that piece of shit take you from me.”
“That wouldn’t have happened, and you know it.” She crosses her arms over her chest—defensive body language if I ever saw it.
“You’re lucky I know it wouldn’t have happened, or I might not believe you.”
“Ren…” The scolding tone is gone, replaced with sadness or maybe concern. I’m not really sure. “You can’t go through life beating the shit out of everybody who looks at me in a way you don’t like. You’re going to get yourself hurt eventually, and for what?”
