When He's Bad Page 5

  “Do you have a better description?”

  “Complicated,” he replies. “And catching Deleon doesn’t mean Waters doesn’t keep coming. He’ll just send someone else to kill us. We need to step back and regroup.”

  “We need to end this,” I say. “That means I need to get in front of Deleon before he clams up. Now. Not later.”

  “No,” he says, the one word flat, simple. To the point.

  I laugh without humor. “No? You can’t tell me no.”

  “And yet, I am.”

  “And I’m telling you no,” I reply. “But thank you for proving your point from last night. You were right. We can’t be personally involved because it’s affected how you think.”

  “I’m protecting you.”

  “You gave up years of your life trying to take down Waters and every sin he forced on you, every person he hurt, doesn’t matter if we stumble now.”

  “Ending up dead is a pretty fucking big stumble, Pri.”

  “I get that. I chose to put my life on the line, not like you, but I have, or I wouldn’t be in a damn cave. I cannot, we cannot, back down now.”

  “Regrouping is not backing down.”

  “I need to interview Deleon sooner than later. And I need your input during that process. We have to be a team. We have to do this.”

  He studies me, a muscle in his jaw ticking before he pushes to his feet, his chin lifting, face tilting to the ceiling. I haven’t looked at the ceiling, not really and I don’t want to know what’s up there, because it’s likely a bunch of bugs. Besides, I’m looking at him, just him, waiting on a response.

  But it doesn’t come.

  He just keeps looking at the ceiling, clearly tormented about what comes next. I decide to give him space. We’re suddenly masters of giving each other space when there’s none to give.

  I hurry behind the sheet, use the bathroom, and wash up every way possible. That includes putting on my damp bra, but I’m stuck with the giant sweats. My pants are just too filthy and wet. I put on my bra but leave my mud-caked pants where they are.

  A loud crash jolts me. Adrenaline surges and I whip around the curtain as Adrian draws his weapon and points it at the cavern entrance.

  Chapter Eleven

  PRI

  A light flashes through the cave entrance and repeats three times. Adrian lowers his weapon at the obvious code, glancing over his broad shoulder at me. “That’s our team,” he says. “Stay put.”

  This news delivers about ten seconds of comfort followed by a mental push back.

  Stay put?

  In a cave?

  While he goes and gets killed?

  I watch Adrian shrink down and squeeze through the hole and nothing about that feels right, especially the part where I wait for trouble. Darting into action, I retrieve my weapon, the heavy steel a cold comfort in my hand as I stand where I am, near the center of the cavern, ticking off seconds. A full minute becomes two and still, there are no signs of Adrian. Another minute passes and I start to pace. Another minute turns into two more, and I’m officially nervous. The cavern begins to close in on me, prickly energy starting to claim control of me. I decide Adrian’s right. The claustrophobia is about the sensation of being trapped. Until now, the cave actually felt safe, a shelter, but now it’s a prison. One I can’t escape easily, not when I don’t know what is going on outside, but what if that wasn’t Walker? Or what if Walker betrayed Adrian? Waters’ influence runs deep. Oh God. He might need my help.

  That very idea sets me in motion.

  With my gun in hand, I charge toward the cavern exit, but just as I’m on my hands and knees, about to crawl out of it, Adrian is crawling inside. And there we are, on hands and knees, facing each other, close, too close for all that is between us. The air crackles, the awareness we share thick like honey that is somehow sticky and bittersweet.

  He motions me back inside the cave and I quickly scoot backward and rest on my haunches, nervous all over again. “What’s happening?” I ask again, this time urgently.

  “Adam and Savage are here,” he says, fully entering the cave and before I can steel myself for the impact, he’s catching my arm and helping me to my feet. Once again, heat dashes up my arm, across my chest, and the air thickens between us.

  As if he realizes what he’s done, his hand falls away, but he’s still close, so very close, staring down at me. “Grab anything you need. We need to leave.”

  There’s a shuffling behind us and Adrian shifts to stand beside me as Savage hauls his huge body into the small space. “Hello campers,” he says, straightening, running big hands over his fatigues. “Are the s’mores toasty and ready for me yet?”

  Adam crawls on in as well and in unison, Adrian and I take a step back, offering them space where there isn’t much to give. All three men are big, the sheer size of them shrinking the cavern, but still, I don’t feel freaked out, or claustrophobic. This isn’t triggering me. The fact that they are both wearing camouflage, ready to blend in and fight, isn’t either, but it likely should.

  “You look like shit,” Savage says, giving me a once over.

  “Thank you, Savage,” I say dryly, but I’m not offended. I have claimed to value honesty and I do.

  Adam elbows Savage and tries to smooth things over. “What he means, Pri—”

  “Is what he said,” I supply. “I do look like shit, but I’m alive. Thanks to Adrian,” I say, glancing up at him. “Thank you.”

  He studies me a few beats and says, “But?”

  “I have to interview Deleon,” I say, glancing between Savage and Adam. “If he’s alive?”

  “Of course, he’s alive,” Adrian snaps. “I didn’t kill him, Pri.” His voice is utter frustration, pinched with anger.

  “I know,” I say quickly, turning to face him, hands up. “I know. That was a stupid comment. I meant—I just, I need to interview him.”

  Savage snorts. “Good luck with that one. He disappeared.”

  I whirl on him. “What?” I glance around the circle of men. “How is that even possible?”

  “Obviously, his people got to him before we did,” Adam supplies. “And they focused on clean-up rather than pursuing the two of you.”

  “Clean-up?” I ask.

  “Pitt’s gone, too,” Adrian supplies. “He took him.”

  I huddle into myself, my arms folding in front of me with the blow of this news. “He’s dead then.” My gaze finds Adrian’s. “Right?”

  “Yes,” he says, his jaw set hard. “We can assume he’s dead, but that is not your fault.”

  I face him again. “It’s not yours, either.”

  “Yes,” he says. “It is. I let Deleon live, just like I let Waters live.”

  For me, I think. “Then it is my fault,” I say. “You did that for me.”

  “He did it,” Adam says, “because it was the right thing to do. That’s what we do. The right thing. All of us.”

  “Except me,” Savage says. “But don’t tell my wife.”

  “He won’t walk away alive again,” Adrian says. “No matter how wrong that might be.”

  I study the lines of his face, the sharp cut to his features that isn’t always present. He studies me right back, his gaze hooded. He told me this isn’t my fault, but I think he believes otherwise. He thinks I make him weak. He thinks I’m bad for him.

  Maybe we’re bad for each other.

  Hugging myself again, I face forward again and glance between Adam and Savage. “Now what?” I ask again.

  “S’mores?” Savage asks.

  In other words, he’s not even going to think about answering my question. “Right now,” Adrian replies, “we’re going to another safe house. Once we’re rested and showered, we’ll talk about what comes next.”

  It’s not what I expect, it’s not a push to leave the city he’d given me earlier, and I can only hope that means I got through to Adrian. Or there’s something else I don’t
know. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the three giant men sharing a cave with me when Adrian seemed to think they’d wait outside. Adam and Savage took cover for a reason.

  I don’t need to think hard about that reason. Deleon and his men know we went into the woods. They expect us to come out.

  My eyes dash to Adrian’s hard, unreadable expression, but the hard edge of a sharper mood screams at me. “Tell me what to do.”

  A barely perceivable flicker of relief flashes in his eyes, and he says, “Grab what you need. We move now.”

  I waste no time tearing out the pages of the notebook I’d made use of last night, shoving them in my purse, and it over my shoulder. When I’m done, Savage and Adam are gone and Adrian waits for me at the exit. My belly clenches with the tug of war between us and I close the space between me and him.

  Once I’m right in front of him, I expect him to move, to motion me out of the cave, but for long moments, he just stares down at me. There is something he wants to say, something that hangs and cuts and bleeds between us. Finally, when the pulse of tension between us cuts too deep, when I can’t take it another moment, he breaks the silence.

  “Deleon knows we went into the woods. He won’t know if we came out or not. He’s also not a fool. He’ll be watching. He’ll have men waiting.”

  “I assumed as much,” I say, my throat dry, voice raspy.

  “Once we’re out there, silence is golden,” he says. “You stay with me, by my side. Hold onto me if you need to, Pri.”

  Somehow it feels as if he’s talking about more than our escape from the woods, but I don’t know. I just don’t know right now. “Without hesitation,” I say. “I trust you. Remember?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I insist, but I think of his reaction to me asking if Deleon was dead. He doubts my trust and now isn’t the time for that conversation. I know that. “I do.”

  He doesn’t respond but I feel the cut of his attention as he steps away and motions to the exit.

  Chapter Twelve

  PRI

  I exit the cave to find Savage and Adam waiting on us, the sun just piercing the horizon, dampness from the rain now gone, lingering on the ground and in the air. Adrian is quickly by my side, and despite all that is a mixed-up, ripe eruption of confusing emotion between us, there is a comfort to the protectiveness that radiates from him. Every part of me knows that this man would die for me, but I also know he’ll walk away from me and hurt me.

  Wordlessly, he motions to Savage.

  Savage responds by taking the lead position, setting out on a forward march, claiming the conductor role in this little train, though I have a sense that Adrian is in control. As if proving this to be true, Adrian signals to me to follow Savage, but rather than stepping to my rear, he remains by my side. Adam instead claims the tail end of our little train, the man who ensures no one kills us from behind.

  The sun inches into view, a dull orange glow, ready to blast us with Texas heat, and plenty of sunlight. It’s only now, watching it rise, in our exit formation, that I wonder why we didn’t leave under the cover of darkness, but I don’t ask questions. Now is not the time for conversation, and I’m confident enough in this group to know they have good reasons. They are the experts at survival, while it’s on me to be an expert in the courtroom when I face Waters. And I will, in a few short weeks.

  We maneuver down the smooth rocks of the cavern that had been our shelter. Once we reach the clearing that Adrian and I had raced across the night before, Savage halts and holds up a hand.

  We pause and wait as he scans our surroundings. My pulse kicks up a beat, with the idea that he might know of a threat we do not. The courtroom, not the forest, is my safe place, the zone where I excel, where I easily spot trouble, but as I visually hunt for it now, I find nothing. He must not either, as he waves us forward. My pulse slows and Adrian captures my hand, the mere act creating the collision of our stares he’s clearly intended. He lifts his chin toward the clearing. Savage shoots into action, running forward, and Adrian follows, leading me along with him, through mud and too much open space for comfort. Adrenaline is my friend and enemy, blurring my surroundings, and thus my ability to spy an enemy, but it also leaves me with nothing but a forward movement. Finally, in what is likely only a minute but feels like a year, we’re in the forest, and branches and foliage offer the coverage the new day has stolen.

  There’s no dilly-dallying around either. We’re already moving again, our path rugged and filled with obstacles. In the light of day, and the downpour over, snakes are probably less of a problem than flying bullets, but still worthy of creating caution.

  But we don’t tread cautiously, not at all. We charge onward, one mile that becomes two, I think, mosquitoes and gnats swarming us in suffocating numbers. Still, we press onward. Finally, we cut up a hill and a paved road comes into view, as do three motorcycles. I assume they’re our rides home, but then Savage holds up a hand again and starts walking toward the bikes on his own. My heart leaps with the obvious possibility that they belong to the Devils. Adrian somehow reads me and catches my gaze. He mouths, “Ours.”

  I breathe out, relief expelled from my chest, and already Savage is motioning us forward. Adrian claims a shiny black motorcycle with a yellow streak. He hands me a helmet and I’ve actually never been on a bike, but not much rattles me. Well, except tunnels under cabins that could collapse at any moment.

  Securing my helmet, Adrian does the same of his and throws his leg over the bike. Savage and Adam have already mounted. I don’t have to be told to climb on behind Adrian, not when I want the heck out of here. I hike myself on board and wrap my arms around him, and he grabs my hands and closes my fingers around his belt loops.

  Once I’m secure, the three men lift hands in the air, seeming to complete some count before, in unison, they rev their engines. Adrian is the first to pull onto the road, but we are not alone. A cluster of three motorcycles blast out of the woods and in our direction. I scream as gunfire rips through the air and Adrian shouts, “Hold on!”

  I’m already leaning into Adrian, holding on to his belt now, and it’s a good thing. He swerves, left and right, no doubt trying to turn us into a difficult target. Savage and Adam’s bikes appear by our sides and both men hold weapons, firing behind us. A motorcycle skids off the road.

  Adrian zooms past the scene, accelerating, leaving Adam and Savage to handle our attackers. Our path appears free, but our speed is intense, and at moments, we’re all but sideways as we travel wild curves left and right until Adrian directs us off the road. We skid to an abrupt halt and he says nothing, focused on his intent, which appears to be him acting on his fear that I’m not secured properly.

  He grabs a rope from I don’t know where, and wraps it around us, anchoring me to him before he knots it hard. My heart thunders wildly with the silent promise that we’re in for a wicked ride.

  Already we’re moving again, and my God, it’s rough, jolting terrain and my one comfort is that Adrian drives it like a man who knows this ground. His confidence feeds my confidence in his skill and our survival. That is until he sends us flying in the air, over a ditch. I’m screaming into the wind when we land hard and solid on the dirt terrain just off the roadway.

  Our landing sends air gushing from my lungs as we blast forward and away from the highway. Slowly the spike of adrenaline calms, and I hug Adrian, expecting the unexpected. I don’t know how long I press my cheek to his back and hold on for dear life, but finally, finally, we return to the main, albeit remote, road again and our path is smoother.

  What follows are long winding roads until we reach a major highway. Only then does Adrian pull to the edge of a gas station just long enough to flip up his visor and ask, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say flipping up my visor, appalled he stopped just because of me, but of course, I did freak out in a hole. “Good. Go. Get us out of here.”

  And thank God, he does.

&nbs
p; In a blink, we’re pulling onto the highway again and with trouble seemingly behind us, I worry about how long it’s been since we saw Savage and Adam. Please let them be okay. Relief comes hard and fast as our path transforms into the familiar territory of Austin’s Hill Country and Cat Mountain neighborhood.

  In what I sense is our final trek, Adrian navigates the winding roads. About a mile up the road, he draws to a halt at the gate of a mansion set on top of a hill, with expansive grounds.

  The gates open and Adrian maneuvers us down a long tree-covered path and turns us down a circle drive. The house is white stucco with several flights of steps leading to a heavy dungeon-style red door. Never before has the Asian red door for luck been kinder to my eyes. I’ll take luck where we can claim it, anywhere we can claim it.

  The bike hums to a stop just beyond the front door.

  The instant he kills the engine and unties me, I climb off and remove my helmet. Adrian does the same, attaching his to the bike and then doing the same with mine. And then he’s facing me, staring down at me—tall, dark, and deadly, and I like it.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I assure him. “Completely. Amazing driving by the way. You really know how to—”

  Suddenly, his hand is on my waist, possessive and warm, his touch stealing my words. He steps into me and I barely have time to catch my breath before his fingers twine in my hair, tilting my mouth to his. He hesitates, his mouth so close to my mouth, that I can almost taste him. I need to taste him. And then he’s kissing me, a deep, drugging, drag-me-under-his-spell kind of kiss that melts me right here in my shoes.

  Engines roar up the driveway and a door opens. Adrian abruptly ends the kiss, releasing me, his chin lowering to his chest, eyes shut, lashes shadowing his cheeks. There’s a punch of regret in that action that tells me that kiss changes nothing. We are no more. He was simply riding the mix of adrenaline and all the crazy push and pull of emotions between us.

  By the time a tall man with dark hair exits the house and Savage and Adam halt their bikes next to Adrian’s, I know our team is safe, at least for now. And I know where I stand with Adrian. At a distance.