“How do you know?” I keep my voice low.
“There was money taken from one of my father’s bank accounts. The security image isn’t clear, but Decker’s sister insists it’s him.”
I blink and blink, trying to beat back my shock. “Where?”
He winces. It’s slight, the minute narrowing of his brows, yet it’s enough to make my stomach bottom.
“Where, Cole?”
“Here,” he grates. “In Portland.”
Frigid fingers of panic grip my throat. “For how long? When did he arrive?”
“I don’t know. Could be weeks—”
“And you’re only telling me now?” My voice rises. “How could you—”
“I only just received the smallest hint of confirmation.” His lips curl in a snarl as he gets in my face. “And you’re the first fucking person I’ve told. I’ve got a house full of people waiting to find out, and I came here. I came to you. I’d never let…” His words trail, and I can’t help but bow my head, needing to break the potency of his stare in an attempt to make sense of what’s happening.
Robert was meant to be murdered for what he did to me. I heard him beg for his life. The gunshot had blasted my ears.
I’d been the reason for his supposed death.
And if he remains alive, I’d be one of his biggest targets.
“Hey.” Cole grips my chin, raising my face until I’m staring back at him. “I’ll protect you.”
Goddamnit.
The last thing I need right now is protection from an unwanted infatuation.
My lips part as I try to think of something strong and affirming to say. But the squeak of my bedroom door steals the words away.
Cole stiffens, his attention snapping across the room, his fingers tightening on my chin. We both stare at Easton standing in the doorway, his hair mussed, his muscled body on full display as he stands in nothing but his underwear, his shirt hanging loose in his hand.
He’s playing the role of awoken lover, and I can’t fathom his audacity.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He scowls at Cole and yanks the shirt over his head.
I’m frozen in a nightmare. Unable to do anything except watch the carnage from behind slowly blinking eyes.
Cole lets out a barely audible growl, his fingers sliding from my chin to leave me hollow. “I could ask you the same thing.” His gaze cuts back to mine. “But I won’t.”
He glares at me. Glares so hard and vicious I’m made to feel worthless under his attention.
He’s jealous.
Hurt.
His pain lashes through me like a lethal injection.
“I guess I didn’t need to warn you. You’ve already got all the protection you need.” He reaches behind me to pull open the door. “Excuse my interruption. It won’t happen again.”
No. He can’t leave. Not like this.
I want to scream at him to stop. To listen. To understand.
Instead, I let him walk from my apartment, the latch clicking shut seconds later as I remain rooted in place. Stunned.
“What the hell was that all about?” Easton approaches, his sleepy facade disappearing. “What were you two talking about?”
I slow my breathing, taking one long drag of air after another in the hopes more oxygen will decrease my mania.
“Nis? What the—”
“Stop.” I warn. “Don’t call me that.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, Anissa. But you’ve gotta understand how fucking mind-blown I am at seeing him all over you. I think I deserve some answers.”
I puff out a breath. Numb. Cold. Alone.
So goddamn alone.
The wildfire flames have been snuffed. All that’s left in Cole’s wake are dying embers.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s time for you to explain why the hell you came out here acting like we’d just slept together.”
4
Anissa
Easton retreats into the room and returns moments later carrying his jeans. “Would you have preferred if I pulled my gun?”
“I would’ve preferred if you’d let me handle it, like I asked.” I grate the words through clenched teeth. “You’ve only made things worse.”
He pulls on his pants, yanking them hard up his thighs. “I was trying—”
“No. Forget it.” I raise a hand for him to stop. “I don’t want to hear it.”
His intent was clear. He deliberately acted like a scorned lover to start some sort of macho pissing contest.
“Please leave.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, unable to keep looking at him.
“Are you serious?” He starts toward me. “What else was I going to do? I could—”
I backtrack, remaining out of reach. “Please just leave.”
He plants his feet… sighs… waits.
“Now, Easton. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“This is ridiculous.” He strides for the kitchen, swiping his keys and wallet from the counter. “I’m sorry, okay? Christ. I’m the one who was blindsided. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He’s not the only one who didn’t see this coming. Not only Cole’s appearance, but the resurrection of Robert. The thought of that heinous man still walking the earth has my stomach tied in knots.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Easton starts for the door. “Then we’re going to sit down and talk about what the hell is going on.”
I don’t respond. I wait until he leaves, then make my way to the window to peer at the street below. I remain in place until his sedan pulls from the curb. Then I stand there even longer, hoping Cole’s Porsche will follow so he knows I haven’t let anyone spend the night in my apartment.
But that black sports car doesn’t pass. Nobody does. The city street remains desolate until I drag my weary ass to bed.
The next morning, I didn’t hide. I ignored Cole’s demands, strapped my gun around my waist in a Velcro holster, pulled on a sweater and active pants, then went for a run.
I jogged block after block, appreciating the thrill of being watched. I knew, no matter how angry the devil was, that he wouldn’t stop his men from stalking me.
Protecting me.
And if Robert was around, I wanted to drag him out. Lure him in.
But he didn’t show his face. Not during the long morning, or in the afternoon when I made sure I’d ditched my invisible tail with some grade-A driving skills to turn the tables and shadow Cole.
I parked down his street, watching cars pass in and out of his property gates. Last night, he mentioned having a house full of people and that much is evident from the constant back and forth of vehicles. The property is guarded, too. A security team stalks the perimeter. Contractors. I don’t recognize the men through my binoculars.
I remain there until night falls, and one by one, a long line of cars leave through the gates. Security in front, then Hunter and Sarah, Benji and Layla, Decker and Keira, and finally Cole, followed by more security.
I follow, trailing in the distance to the Torian family restaurant. I circle the block after all five vehicles head toward the back of the building, and find a parking space within view of the floor-to-ceiling glass out the front.