28 Seconds: A House of Valentine Novella (7 page)

It was an order and I nodded in obedience.

“Let’s get her to the house.”

“Cole?” I asked, quiet as a mouse as someone lifted me off the ground. “How do you remove a brand?”

“We burn it out of his fucking flesh, kid.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I awoke to soft caresses stroking the length of my body, the smell of seawater enrobing me like a comforting blanket. Considering the night I’d had, it was already starting off to be a much better day. I was stretched on top of Cole, but we weren’t on the bed. My eyes drifted around, trying to place our location, and then realized we were on the sofa in the room they claimed was mine. I turned my head, ever so slightly against his chest, and met his intense gaze.

“Good morning again.”

His warm, husky voice sent shivers down my body and he gave a low chuckle.

“Again?”

“You woke up about ten minutes ago and climbed on me before falling back asleep. I must admit, it was a delightful way to be awoken.”

I nodded but made no move to leave. My body was chilled, my camisole and underwear offering little protection, but each of his long strokes against my skin were leaving a soothing warmth behind.

“Are you feeling alright? No after effects or anything? Hang over?”

“A little sore, bruised maybe, but otherwise good.”

“We had to get a little rough with you in the club, do you remember? It was like fighting a fucking tiger.”

“They don’t call it the super soldier drug for no reason.”

“Do you remember?” he repeated.

“Which answer do you want?”

“The truthful one.”

“Yes, Cole. I remember.” I shuffled my hands loose, reaching to trace his jawline. His hands stopped moving and I gave him a challenging smile. “If you can explore, so can I.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured, his hands once again traveling my curves. “How much?”

“Everything until the lora.”

“Did you know he spiked the drink before you drank it?”

“No. I asked for water because it was so hot on the dance floor. I guzzled it and realized about halfway through.”

“Don’t ever do that again. If you’d taken two seconds to check it you would’ve known it was spiked. Did you call him on it? Is that why you were fighting on the dance floor?”

“Yes and he admitted it. Gloated about it actually.”

I shuffled up a tiny fraction on his chest and began running my lips along his neck. Rather than stop me, as I expected, Cole’s hands locked on my hips and he murmured “lift up a sec”. I did as told and he scooted himself lower on the sofa, allowing me to feel the entire length of him against my body: my breasts heavy against his chest; my nipples growing hard from the weight of our bodies together; how his breaths were becoming more shallow; his cock twitching hard between my thighs even with jeans keeping it contained.

“You have a lot of assholes working for you.”

“Usually they’re pretty above board. I’m sorry that you seem to be finding the less than stellar ones. I wouldn’t advise you to keep trying to fight them, though. They are extraordinarily well trained.” His palms slipped to my ass, cupping it, tightening and releasing it a sliding rhythm that made my insides twitch in a way I’d never felt before. “Anything else?”

“That I remember?” I asked, struggling to keep my mind on the conversation. “I told you. I remember the test, the beach until I passed out.”

“The memories, Ariana.”

“Oh.” I let out a little shiver.

“That’s a yes,” he murmured, his lips pressing into my neck and causing my body to arch against him. My movement was so quick, so harsh, that he reacted instinctively. His hips followed mine, thrusting toward me as his hand tangled in my hair and pulled me into a fierce kiss. His lips were everywhere all at once and his ragged breath was fast turning into a low moan. His fingers moved back around my ass, sliding between my thighs and I knew he could feel the slickness already seeping down. “Christ,” he groaned and rocked himself hard against me. “Ariana,” he called, his words a near beg at my throat, “baby girl, I need you to stop us because I can’t.”

Need
. Somehow that word registered hard in my brain...he needed us to stop not
wanted
us to stop. I nodded, still breathless but I shuffled off him to sit at the edge of the sofa. We sat still for several minutes, neither of us moving, as we tried to get ourselves back in control. He was first to recover and moved to sit on the table across from me. His fingers drifted to my cheek, featherlight, and then pulled me into a gentle, tame kiss. His lips were soft against mine, his words full of gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He stood up and went to the dresser, retrieving me a bottle of water. After I’d drank down half, he smiled. “Better?”

I nodded and returned the smile, but I wasn’t okay. I’d never felt anything like him before, my body had never wanted anything like it wanted him...and yet he kept turning me away. It was devastating..and totally embarassing.

“Ariana?” he asked, worried.

I nodded again. “You were asking about the memories.”

“Well, yes and no. I admit I’m damn curious who Franco was strangling in front of you.”

I shifted, trying to curl in on myself but his hand on my leg stopped me.

“Please stop trying to hide from me.”

“I said that?”

“Yes, but I’m not asking about what they are since I told you I wouldn’t. Instead, I want to know about the drugs. How did you know all of that information? Tony’s right. You’re knowledge is way beyond something a school would ever teach you.”

“I wish I could tell you, Cole, but I really don’t know. I just knew them like a person knows how breathe.”

He hesitated for the briefest moment and then leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “Okay then. I’d like your help with something this morning, if you don’t mind.”

“A project? Awesome.” I side-stepped him, grabbed my jeans and tugging them over my legs. I continued to rush around the room, gathering my things.

“I sense a bit of pent-up energy,” he chuckled.

“Fuck you, Cole,” I grumbled. “Blame the drug cocktail from last night. I’d probably be sulking otherwise.”

“Sulking?” he reached from behind me, buttoning my jeans for me. “I don’t believe that’s the emotion I’ve been seeing.”

I batted his hands away. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he chuckled, “but you may not be so excited when you see the project. Meet me in the kitchen and I’ll pay you in coffee.”

“Deal.”

“And remind me to have Bridgett get you some more clothes. You’ve been wearing the same thing for days now.”

I turned in his arms, my fingers tracing his chest as seductively as I could manage without laughing. “I could always just go naked.”

“Yeah, the boys would love that. And then I’d have to kill them.”

“Go on,” I pushed him away, “make me coffee.”

“So bossy,” he said, winking as he left the room.

I looked around and realized he was right about the clothes. I only had what my mother and I had managed to stuff in the duffel before we left. Seeing a notepad on the table, I jotted down a few things along with my sizes. Bridgett had an uncanny knack for choosing well but I really wanted comfort clothes: sweats and a giant over-sized teeshirt. I brushed my teeth and then went to join Cole in the kitchen.

“Why does it smell like a florist shop in here?” I asked, screwing up my nose.

He nodded toward the hallway beyond. “We’d asked the shop to hold off on delivering the memorial flowers but, after last night, they ran out of space.”

I stuck my head into the hallway. There were hundreds of arrangements in different sizes and colors, tucked in every corner of the space. I took a step back, covering my nose. “That is nauseating.”

“You have a very acute sense of smell,” he observed, watching me. “Like a sommelier or a perfumer.”

“Stop analyzing me. Can we open windows or something? Doors?”

“I’ve got men coming to move them over to the church. They’ll be gone soon.”

“What did you mean, until last night?”

“Hm?” He put the coffee tin back and pulled mugs out. “Oh, last night. The guys inundated the florist with orders.”

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about and my patience was wearing thin as the flower smells burned into my nose. “Cole.”

He glanced up from his doings and, seeing my annoyance flaring, he frowned. Reaching over the sink, he flung open the windows to get more air circulating. “The Valentine men were distraught about what happened to you at the club last night. They sent flowers in apology.”

“Apologize for what? Because some asshole put something in my drink?”

“Because another Valentine had the audacity to do such a thing, because they didn’t learn about it in time to prevent it, because they failed to protect you, because they didn’t get to exact their own justice, because you are you.”

“That is too much guilt for one person’s brain,” I grumbled. “I fucking hate flowers.”

“I’ll make sure to let them know. Now,” his hand reached to my jeans, tugging me closer. “I may not be as observant as you but I know that somewhere we stepped over the sexually frustrated emotion into something else. So, will you please tell me what’s really the matter?”

“It’s just the flowers,” I assured him. “It’s the oldest memory I have. I woke up, covered in a pink daisy blanket, in a flower stall at the French Market in New Orleans.”

“Where was Teresa?”

“She was there, talking to some men but I didn’t know that for a few minutes. I thought I was all alone in this strange place with so many smells and colors. She scooped me in her arms but only after I started screaming.” I smiled to reassure him. “It just sets my nerves on edge. I’ll be fine once it airs out.”

“And if you just tell me,” he grumbled, “I can fix it for you.” He kissed the top of my head and stepped toward the hallway, calling out one of the men I hadn’t even noticed. “Get the flowers out on the street. They can load them from there. Refuse any future deliveries and send them straight to the church.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stepped back toward me, touching my hand just to get me to look at him. “Ariana, I
am
sorry about sending him to get you. I had no idea...no, that’s not true. If I’d taken time to think, I would’ve realized how idiotic sending some muscled up guy in a dark suit with a gun was, but I didn’t think. I just wanted you off that floor, safe and back with us. I am truly sorry. As it turned out, I probably should have made that call a lot earlier but I wanted you to have some semblance of freedom.”

“You didn’t take away my freedom, Cole. I’ve never really had any.” I pushed a slip of paper his direction. “Things I could use. I made a list. If it’s too much-”

He gave me a withering look and sat it on the counter without bothering to read it. “She’ll have it here within the hour.”

I nodded, watching as coffee began to gurgle through a pipe of the tiny Bialetti. It was battered and tarnished, the little man icon barely visible...just like the one my mother had been using all my life. “By the way, has there been any news about my father?”

He handed me a steaming mug then leaned back against the counter. “That’s the first time you’ve asked.”

“I hear enough, Cole. He learned about my mother, had a very public meltdown, and now while you men plan her memorial with Father Michael, was it?, he’s avoiding the world. Including me.”

“You are way too observant for this household,” he grumbled. “He’s fine. Well, not fine, but safe. He won’t return until he can face everyone with no weakness. Especially you. Being strong for us, for you...that’s who he is.”

I nodded, not exactly believing, but knew I wasn’t going to get any further explanation. I took a long draft of the coffee. “Your coffee is divine.”

“And you are instantly a much happier person,” he observed.

“It covers the smell of the flowers,” I grinned, smiling over my cup. “My mom’s was always sweet.”

“Sweet espresso?” he grimaced. “Can’t imagine how you ever got addicted to that.”

“The one addiction to which I succumbed. Not bad considering the other choices out there.”

“Oh, I think you’ve found yet another,” he murmured, giving me a quick kiss on my throat. “Come on, time to earn our paychecks.”

CHAPTER NINE

He pointed to the dining room, grabbing his own coffee and following behind. His two shadows were already there, sitting in chairs, drinking their own coffee and I gave them a little wave. Both smiled with a polite “Morning, Ms. Valentine,” which made me giggle. Moving past them, I circled around the table and gave a low whistle. Lined up on the polished mahogany were hundreds of vials. Some were liquid, others solid, all ranging from clear to pristine white.