Up to Me (14 page)

I twist the knob, push open the door and step back.  I hear the gun fire a millisecond before I feel the bullet graze my shoulder.  It’s not enough to stop me, though.  The next one, however, knicks my ribs on the left side.  It slows me down and hurts like a son of a bitch, but it’s not enough to keep me from launching myself across the room at the guy before he gets off another shot. 

We crash to the ground, my hat flying off as I use all my weight to roll him over, which isn’t easy because this scarred bastard is much bigger than the others I’ve seen.  As soon as I have the dominant position, I slam the crown of my forehead into his nose.  Above the roar of my pulse, I hear the crunch of bone as the guy yells in surprised pain.

Before he can fight back, I see Gavin’s boots appear at the top of the man’s head.  Then he’s bending down to wrap the crook of his elbow under the guy’s chin and squeeze.  The
Bratva
’s hands go straight to Gavin’s thick arm to try and free himself. Ineffectively, I might add.  Gavin’s strong as an ox and twice as mean if you’re on his bad side.  And this guy? He’s on the bad side.

Levering myself up off him, I nod to Gavin and head for the door.  Only two more rooms to check for Olivia.  She has to be here somewhere.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE- Olivia

As I begin to come awake, I hear a loud pop followed by some banging against the wall.  I know where I am, inasmuch as I’m being held captive…somewhere. And in a fuzzy, disjointed way, I remember immediately the fear that gripped me when the rag was placed over my face again the last time. 

I recognize the noise as gunfire.  I know it’s strange, but my initial reaction isn’t fear; it’s relief, relief that I can put the sound together with its source, that I can quickly make the association. 

That must mean my brain is still working to some degree.  I’m not a cucumber yet.

I hear a second shot. It brings with it a more logical response.  Fear.  No, not fear.  Terror.  My pulse races with it.  The sensation is only exacerbated by the fact that I can barely move, much less do anything about whatever is happening.  I realize I’m helpless and that my fate will likely be decided without me even be able to manage coherent speech.   

Where’s Ginger when I need her?

In my head, I’m laughing.  As a bystander might, part of me is worrying that I’m making light in the midst of such a serious situation. 

Am I losing it?  Is any of this even real?

I struggle to open my eyes.  Blearily, I blink my reluctant lids.  A bright reflection on the ceiling swims across my vision, making my stomach roil.  I close my eyes for a single breath and then fight to open them again. 

I hear bumping again and the sounds of heavy footsteps.  My heart thumps heavily inside my chest as panic sets in.

They’re coming for me!  Oh sweet God, they’re coming for me!

Summoning every bit of strength left in my sedated body, I lift my head off the flat, smelly pillow and look from left to right. I’m in a small, sparsely furnished bedroom.  Alone.  With a window to my left.

I don’t feel the tears so much as see my vision blur behind them.  If I could just make it to the window…and outside…to freedom…

Maybe someone would help me…

Taking a deep breath, I bend my arms and slide my elbows under me to try and push myself into a somewhat upright position.  As though they’re made of jelly, though, they melt away as soon as I try to bear any weight on them.  I try a second time, to no avail.

The futility of my efforts, the hopelessness of my situation hits me hard again.  Only this time, the longer I’m awake without the drug-dosed rag being shoved in my face, the clearer my head becomes.  And the more panicked I feel.

I’m telling myself I’ll try again and again when a loud crash sounds at the door across the room.  Splinters fly when it’s torn off its hinges by a body being launched through the opening.  My mind struggles to take in what I’m seeing.

A tall, thin man with a springy bush of brown curls on his head lands with a thud on the floor in front of the bed.  I look back to the doorway, my heart lodged in my throat, and I see the most wonderful hallucination I could ever imagine conjuring.

It’s Cash, standing like a thunder cloud, right in front of me.  His face is smeared with black streaks and his lips are curled in rage.  He looks fierce.  He looks murderous. 

He looks like heaven.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes lock with mine.  I see the anger, the determination, the I’m-teetering-on-the-threshold-of-apeshit-crazy.  But I also see relief and something that makes my heart swell.  Then his attention moves to the foot of the bed. 

I see him drop to his knees and I hear his animal growl as his fist pumps up and down over and over again.  The dull thump-squish-crunch makes saliva gush into my mouth.  The image that comes to mind is of a bloody, mangled face being pounded into the floorboards by Cash’s massive fist.  But I can hardly feel sorry for the guy. In fact, if I could manage to move, I might go lend a hand in beating the everlovin’ crap out of him.

Just a few seconds later, Cash is coming to his feet and rushing to the side of the bed.  The whole scene has a surreal quality until he squats down, putting his face level with mine, and reaches out to gently touch my cheek with his fingertips.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.  His face is a mask of agony.  I can see the guilt eating at him.  He thinks all of this is his fault.

“I am now.”

He closes his eyes for a heartbeat.  When he reopens them, his soul is there for me to see.  “Oh my God, Olivia, I didn’t know…I thought…  If something had happened to you…”

“I’m fine,” I say, not really knowing whether or not I actually am.  I just feel the overwhelming need to soothe Cash and take away some of his pain. 

Right before my eyes, I see logic sweep in and force him into action.  “We have to get you out of here.”

I know he’s right and I can feel the medication wearing off a little more every minute, but still, I don’t think I can walk.

“Can you help me up?”

A frown flickers across his forehead.  “Help you up?” he asks, almost like he’s insulted.  I feel confused, but he doesn’t give me time to ask questions.  Rather, he rises and slides his hands beneath me and lifts me into his arms.

As though I’ve been given a sedative, a drug of a different kind, being in Cash’s arms has an instant and an intense effect on me.  I feel like crumbling and flying, like dancing and crying, like living and like dying.  Wrapped up in him, in his bad boy ways and his good guy heart, is my whole world.  Somehow, while I wasn’t looking, I fell.  And I fell hard.

For my soul mate.  For the love of my life.  For my hero.

In the blink of an eye, I realize I’ve never been broken by a bad boy. I’ve never been devastated by a cheater.  I’ve never been duped by a player.  I’ve never cared enough for them to do me any real damage, any lasting harm.  My pride has been wounded, my heart has been kicked around a little and my self-esteem has taken a hit or two, but all that’s like child’s play in light of what the loss of Cash could do to me.

What I did learn from my relationship failures, however, is that trust doesn’t come easy for me.  I’ve blamed my issues on the men in my life.  I’ve chalked every disastrous attempt at love on the skirt-chasing ways of the bad boy, when it’s been me all along.  Subconsciously, I’ve chosen men who would prove me right about the worthlessness of a bad boy, rather than bring to light my own shortcomings, my own fears.  And it’s been a convenient cop out until Cash came along.  Cash broke all the rules, broke all
my
rules. He’s not giving me reason to run. He’s giving me reason to stay.  And all I have to do is muster the courage to do it, to take the chance that it
might not
work out, to take the chance that I might very well get hurt.  He’s giving me something to invest in, and all I have to do is believe in it.

For real this time.

But can I take the leap?  Can I tell him I love him, and mean it, when death isn’t knocking at my door?  When disaster isn’t looming?  Can I open up my chest and make my heart vulnerable to him?

In the space of a heartbeat, with Cash looking down into my face, I’ve worked my befuddled mind into a twisted maze of confusion and uncertainty.  With a small smile of gratitude, I lay my head on his chest and let him carry me from the room.  There will be time for thoughts and musings and declarations later.

I hope.

I feel his lips brush my hair and I hear his sigh whisper through his chest just before he whisks me from the room.  In three long, powerful strides, he crosses the room and carries me out into the hall.  He pauses at the first doorway to look inside, then does the same at the second.  When he finds it empty as well, he puts his back to the wall and creeps toward the light shining at the end of the short passageway.

Gavin rounds the corner, startling a surprised chirp out of me.  His face is done up much like Cash’s, the dark paint making his blue eyes pop.  They’re not the sexy, twinkling blue eyes I’ve come to expect, though.  These eyes are cold and serious and…ominous.  It’s almost like seeing another personality living behind the familiar face. 

“She all right?” Gavin asks of Cash, tipping his head at me.

“I think so.  I’ll check her out when I get her home.”

“I won’t be long. I just have some…cleaning up to do.”

Without another word, Gavin moves into the room at my right and takes a fallen man by the hands and begins to drag him toward the hall.  Cash walks ahead of him, aiming for the door.  I watch Gavin over his shoulder. 

He pulls the unconscious man into the main living area, the floor of which is devoid of any kind of furniture but for a single old, brown couch.  He deposits the man at the end of a row of bodies.  Each one is lined up next to the other, shoulder to shoulder, like a bizarre prone firing line.  A shudder passes through me as I wonder at their fate.  It’s in that moment I realize that, despite my animosity toward them for holding me against my will, I really don’t want to know what’s to become of them.  I have a feeling I’ll be better off without that kind of information.

Outside, Cash pauses on the front porch, looking left and right.  When he spots what he’s looking for, he starts off down the street at a fast pace, even for his long legs.  I see Gavin’s Hummer come into view just before I hear the beep of the keyless entry.  Quickly, Cash opens the passenger side door and, with such excruciating tenderness that it tears at my heart, sets me on the seat and buckles me in.

He raises his head and gazes into my eyes. He looks tired yet relieved.  He gives me a lopsided grin.  “Rest, baby.  You’re safe.”  With a brush of his lips over mine, he closes the door.  I’m asleep before he even gets behind the wheel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX- Cash

Irritated, I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

I sound like a damn woman!

We’ve been on the road long enough that the adrenaline has faded and my thoughts have turned completely toward Olivia.  I bet I’ve glanced over at her sleeping face thirty times since we left.  Maybe more.  That number might be a little conservative.

It’s just that she looks so beautiful and the sight of her is so…welcome.  Although I refused to think about
not
being able to get her out of this mess alive and well, on some level I must’ve been worried about it.  Now, all I’m doing is bouncing back and forth between being thankful that she’s all right and vowing that I’ll never let anything happen to her. 

Today was the first step in ensuring that.  With Nash’s video, we’ve bought some time.  Gavin is taking care of the lower level threats and sending a very effective, if dangerous, message.  Next up is taking care of the big guns and making sure that no one ever has reason to come after Olivia again, unless they’re willing to risk severe consequences.

I’m still hoping the second ad I placed, the second ace up Dad’s sleeve, might give me something else to work with.  If not, I’ll just have to make do with what I’ve got until I can come up with a plan.  Now that Olivia’s safe, I ought to be able to concentrate a little more effectively.

Just thinking of her draws my eye back to the passenger seat where she’s resting peacefully beside me.  I reach out to touch her hand, but pull my fingers back before they can graze her skin.  I don’t want to wake her up.

But damn, I want to touch her!

It feels almost like a compulsion, to touch her and make sure she’s really with me and that she’s really safe.  And that’s ridiculous, too.

Good God! I’m gonna wake up with ovaries if this shit doesn’t stop!

 The thing is, I don’t know how to stop it.  I’ve never wanted to feel this way about a female. And even now, I’m not sure I do.  But I’m also not sure I have a choice. It’s almost like Olivia’s cast some sort of spell on me.  And I don’t like feeling this way—this helpless, this invested, this…emotional.  I don’t ever want to lose myself in a woman.

Ever.

With my teeth clenched in determination, I keep my eyes facing forward. On the road. 
Not
on Olivia.

********

Olivia is sleeping soundly in my bed when Gavin returns almost two hours later. We go out to talk in the office where we won’t disturb her.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s been sleeping. I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

“We all are, mate.  You especially.  You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Gav.  I can always count on you to say things that help me in
no way
whatsoever
.”

His grin is the same caliber as any other day—carefree.  It’s his ability to cope with the things he’s done (and
still
does occasionally) that makes him so good at his job.  He sees the world as black and white, good and bad, live or die.  He’s a good guy.  Really, he is.  It’s just that he doesn’t tolerate criminals very well, even though that’s how every law enforcement agency in the entire world would label him.  I mean, I’m not going to sugar coat it.  Gavin is a former mercenary, a hired gun.  A killer.  It’s just that he’s a killer with a conscience.  And God help your soul if you happen to step on it the wrong way.

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” he says, laying on thick his best impression of a southern accent. 

“How’d it go?  Any problems?”

He flops down in chair behind the desk, rests one ankle on his knee and laces his fingers behind his head.  “No.  Two to the head of each.  The message ought to be pretty clear.”

I nod. I don’t really know what to say.  What he did for me, for us, for
Olivia
was more than I could ever have asked him to do.  And yet, he did it anyway.  He was there when I needed him, without question, without reservation.  Gavin’s probably one of the only people in the world I can fully trust.  As of right now, we’ve been through too much together to be anything less than brothers.  “Thanks, man.  I can’t tell you… I just…”

“I know, mate.  I know,” he says soberly.  He clears his throat then changes the subject.  “I called the mother.”

“What?”

“I had to.  Her daughter went missing. In her car.  I had to tell her Olivia was in danger in order to get her to tell me where she went and what she was driving.”

“Oh my God,” I say, dragging a hand over my face.  “What did she say?”

“At first I don’t think she believed me.  That lady’s a piece of work. I think she thinks all men are controlling and she tries to turn Olivia against anyone she brings home.  Or at least that’s the impression I got.”

“Maybe it was just you. Ever think of that?”

“Are you kidding me? With this face?  Mothers love me.  And I mean
really
love me,” he says with a wicked grin.  And I’m sure he’s right.  By most anyone’s standards, Gavin is a good-looking guy.  Add to that his charm and his accent, and the ladies go wild.  But I could care less as long as it’s not Olivia going wild over him.

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her Olivia was safe and that the Escalade had been dumped under the bridge.”

“Great! Now she’ll go straight to the cops.”

“No, I told her that’s the worst thing she could do, that it would only draw the attention of these people toward her.  Trust me, she doesn’t want that. And I think she understands that.  She’s got a lot of selfish bitch in her.  She probably wouldn’t have listened to me if I hadn’t put it to her that way.”

“Well, as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“You’ll just have to…reiterate the importance of leaving the cops out.”

“
I
won’t be reiterating
anything.
 Why would I need to call her after you did? I’ve never even met the woman.”

“You don’t need to call her.  She’ll be here to check on Olivia tonight.  After she gets everything straightened out with her SUV.”

“She’s coming here?”  My voice is unnaturally high in my shock.

Gavin grins.  “Damn, did someone just punch you in the nuts?  What was that?”  

“Not yet, but if what Olivia says about that woman is accurate, she’ll probably be grabbing herself a fistful while she’s here.  And not in the way
you
were talking about.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that woman touching anything below your waist.  Ever.  For any reason.  That Sheila could make a man’s body parts shrivel up and fall off.  Hypothermia.”

“And she’s coming here.”  Not that I’d ever really
wanted
to meet Olivia’s mother, but I figured if it ever had to be done, it would be in circumstances much better than these.  “Shit.”

“Any word from Nash yet?”

“No, but he should be—”

“Coming in the door right now,” Nash says as he pushes the office door wider and steps inside.    “I see you got the princess back in one piece.”

I grit my teeth and ignore his comment.  I thought we’d come to a sort of agreement to be civil, but it looks like that didn’t last very long.  I wonder to myself when it was, exactly, that my brother became such a douche.  “Did you get Marissa to her dad’s all right?”

“Yeah.  But let me tell you, that is gonna be one messed up female.”

“Why?  What happened?”

“I left her in the back seat until I got her to her dad’s place.  She didn’t say much on the ride.  She might’ve passed out or something.  I don’t know, but when I untied her and took her blindfold off and she saw me, I think it pushed her over the edge, man.  She just started crying and threw her arms around my neck.  I felt kinda bad for her.  I guess once she recovers from being scared shitless, she’ll be cursing the day she ever met you.”

I clench my fingers into tight fists, but again, I ignore him.

“Was her father there?  Did he say anything?”

“Yes, but I didn’t give him a chance to say anything.  I helped her to the door and was gonna see her on up to her bedroom, but he came down the steps, so I just left.”

“Neither one of them said
anything?”

“As I was walking out the door, I heard him ask her what the hell was going on, but other than that, I don’t know. I shut the door and left.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way to do it.”  I should’ve known better than to expect any amount of tact and sensitivity from such a jackass.

“As much fun as it is to sit around and wait for you two to go at it, I need some sleep,” Gavin says standing to his feet and stretching, moving his shoulders in a circle.

“I think we could all use a little shut-eye.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch, so I guess I’ll be borrowing your car again to go to the condo,” Nash says.

“That’s fine.  Take your time, make yourself at home.”  I actually prefer it. Anything to get him and his attitude out of my hair.  When he’s like this, I get the feeling the guy is nothing but trouble.

“Thanks,
bro.” 
The sarcasm is unmistakable. I don’t know what happened in the last few hours to get his dick all bent out of shape, but something sure did.

“I’ll be back to go over the schedule and work for a while before we open,” Gavin says before he opens the door leading back into the apartment.

“Cool.  Get some rest, man. And thanks again.”  Gavin nods and I turn grudgingly to my brother.  “You, too, Nash.”

Much to my surprise, he doesn’t make any pissy comments; he just nods as well. 

Poor bastard’s probably bipolar or some shit like that.  He’s moodier than a damn woman!

I follow them out to lock up behind them.  When I hear the sounds of the BMW fade as Nash drives off, I wander back to the bedroom.  I stand in the doorway to watch Olivia.  Seeing her relaxed in sleep, so peaceful and so
alive,
I feel myself start to calm.  Within a few minutes, I become more and more aware of the effects of the last twelve hours. My muscles ache, a combination of tension and beating the shit out of a couple people.  My head hurts, most likely from head butting anonymous henchmen number three.  And the kisses from the two bullets I wasn’t quite able to dodge are starting to sting, especially the one on my ribs.

Olivia whimpers in her sleep, causing a stab of guilt to prick my heart.  It also causes me to feel something else, something that I don’t really know what to do with and I’m not sure is entirely welcome.  It feels an awful lot like a weakness, a weakness for her.  And I don’t want anything or anyone to be my weakness.  Weakness makes you vulnerable, leaves you open to pain and loss.  I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.  No, I’m going to keep seeing Olivia, but I’ll be keeping her at a safe distance.

I turn and make my way to the bathroom.  I cut on the shower to as hot a temperature as I can stand then strip and step inside. I let the spray pound down on my face and chest then, many minutes later, I turn to let it beat down on my shoulders.  Going through my head are all the ways that I can avoid getting too attached to Olivia.

I more feel her presence than hear her.  It’s like one minute she’s in my head, the next I open my eyes and she’s standing in front of me.  Naked.  Sleepy.  Sexy.

I start to speak, but she puts her finger over my mouth.  She rubs my bottom lip almost absently. I flick my tongue out to touch her fingertip and her mouth falls open a tiny bit.  Her eyes are on mine as she strokes the tip of my tongue.  When I bite down, her eyes widen.  I don’t bite hard.  Just enough that she can feel it, hopefully feel it all the way down to that sweet spot between her legs.  And by the look in those eyes, I’d say that’s exactly where she felt it.

Even over the noise of the shower, I hear her gasp.  I know that she wants to be the one in control, but I will always be the one to push her.  And she will always love it, crave it.

I let her finger go and she trails it down my chin and throat then over to my left shoulder.  Her eyebrows pull together into a frown when she traces the tender, skinned place where the first bullet grazed me.  She leans in close and kisses it ever so sweetly. 

She straightens and I watch her eyes roam my chest.  When she sees where the second bullet knicked me on my side, she frowns up at me.  “You were shot twice.  Coming for me.”

I shrug.  “It’s not like I was shot through the heart.”  Olivia closes her eyes for a second.  When she opens them, I see the terror in them, the fear the words caused.  I feel the urge to remove the fear, to replace it with something…happier.  “You’re not to blame. And you don’t give love a bad name.”

I watch her face as understanding dawns.  I took a chance that she’d know the
Bon Jovi
song.  And she does.  During the sex-marathon weekend at her dad’s place, she once mentioned, as we were lying in bed catching our breath, that her father loves classic rock.  Said she grew up listening to it and had always liked it.  Just one more thing I love about her.

“I’m glad that song doesn’t apply to me.”  The corners of her mouth tilt up.  Her mood is already lightening with the easy banter.