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God, he’s gorgeous. Stop it, Rayne. Focus. What’s on the agenda for today? Don’t think about him. I want to touch his hair. I bite my knuckle. Shit. I can’t think about this. I squeeze my thighs together hard and try to bring order to the chaos in my mind.
“Put on some music.” His voice slices through the silence like a razor slicing parchment.
I shake myself back to the present, exhaling a long breath. Music, right. I rummage in my new purse for my iPhone and tap into my Spotify app. “What kind of music do you like?”
“Anything. You choose.” His abrupt tone puts a wall of distance in his voice.
I sync my phone to the car's system and select one of my favorite pop playlists. Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" starts to fill the car, but Jaden's hand shoots out, pressing the forward button. “Not that.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jaden. You said I could choose.”
“And you can. Just not that song.”
I roll my eyes. “Why not?”
“I just don’t like it.”
“So, what then?”
“I told you. You choose.”
I grit my teeth, pissed that he's probably just messing with me. Classic rock becomes our weird middle ground in this crazy relationship minefield. He casually drops his arm on the console, a silent ask for a scratch, and I comply. It's these tiny moments, these damn tiny connections he lets slip through, that screw with my head. We settle into this tense, strangely cozy silence, like we're navigating some weird, twisted bond.
As the car devours miles towards Harmony Hills, I zone out to the rhythm of scratching his arm. It's better than letting my brain spin out with all the shit he stirs up inside me. He's like some messed-up Pandora's box—cracking open thoughts and desires that 'good girls' shouldn’t even whisper about. He’s a safety net and a fucking lucky charm rolled into one. Ever since he came into my life, stuff's been looking up—this kickass job, the whole 'special calling' deal. But I can't shake him—not from my head, not from under my skin. That massive body of his is like a frigging fortress and a danger zone all at once.
One second, I'm daydreaming of ways to make him pay for all the crap he puts me through. The next, I'm all swoony, thinking he's the one. And Jaden? Mr. Hot-and-Cold himself. Beams like a damn Christmas tree when I call him my hero, then turns around and slashes me with his words the next minute for saying the very same thing. He's a walking storm, always brooding, and half the time, I'm the one kicking up the winds. There’s a truckload of reasons I should cut him off and sort out my own mess. But here I am, stuck in this crazy loop with him.
23
JADEN
I exhale sharply, the words tumbling out in the afterglow of our intimacy. "I've got a chromosome missing." It's a raw admission, an attempt to bridge the gap between us with something more profound than physical connection. Instantly, I regret it. Such disclosures crack open doors to dark places I've strived to keep sealed. Memories of childhood, tinged with shame and a day marked by betrayal, surge forward. "Don't be a woose,” my mother’s voice echoes, a haunting refrain from a past that claws at the edges of my carefully constructed present. Rayne's response, though, had a surprising calm, devoid of judgment. “Well, since I’m incapable of loving or being loved, that makes us peas in the same pod. Or do you mean like Trisomy 21?”
Her brilliant mind pleases me as much as it terrifies me. It pisses me off that she’s stuck in someone else’s narrative of her. Unlike me. I've meticulously built a facade, a persona of control and invulnerability that had remained intact until Rayne happened onto the scene. Now, it teeters on the edge, threatening to crumble. The constant vigilance, the fear of being unmasked as the imposter I believe myself to be, is exhausting. Rayne's intelligence is piercing, her understanding unnervingly acute. It’s a matter of time before she sees through the armor I've worn for so long.
What to do with Rayne? The question circles in my mind, a relentless vulture. I lean back in my office chair, lost in the memory of her touch, the silken texture of her skin that glows like burnished gold. Her skin, an addiction I can't, and don't want to, shake off.
But it's her scent that truly ensnares me. It's a melody of desire and mystery, each note weaving through me, leaving me spellbound. I can still feel her essence on my fingertips, a lingering promise of sensuality and secrets yet to be uncovered. I catch the faint taste of her on my tongue, and it's intoxicating. Her quick, nervous bite of the lip revealing layers of longing and restraint. A vulnerability laced with a hint of something darker, something deliciously kinky.
I drift into a daydream, her scent and taste dominating my senses, a siren song luring me deeper into uncharted waters.
My cell phone pings with a text from Razor.
Razor: Urgent: Sasha compromised. Location: The Manor. Convene War Room ASAP. ETA 10 mins.
Fuck! I tear out of the suite and join Brian and Connor in the War Room where they’re searching through the surveillance videos for the last twenty-four hours. Rayne is off with Kat taking a BDSM class. We opt not to call them back. Time enough to update them later.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I watch the footage, each frame etching deeper into my memory. The anger, the frustration, it's all there, bubbling beneath the surface, ready to explode. But it's not just anger. There's a cold, seething determination that settles in my gut. I've been in this game long enough to know when things are about to get ugly, and this is one of those times.
"Razor, any leads on why they took her?" I keep my voice level, but it's a struggle.
He shakes his head, his expression grim. "Not yet, but we're working on it."
I nod, my mind racing. This isn't just a random abduction. It's a message, a calculated move by Viper to throw us off balance. And it's working. Realizing that my personal distractions might have contributed to this situation gnaws at me, a relentless voice whispering accusations in my ear.
I glance at Brian and Connor. "We need to gear up. We're going into the field. Razor, keep working on those leads."
They nod, and we move into action, a well-oiled machine fueled by urgency and a shared resolve. But even as I slip into the familiar comfort of tactical planning, there's a part of me that's reeling. A part that's looking back at the last few weeks, wondering if I've been too careless, too distracted by my growing connection with Rayne.
