Page 42 of Heist in Paradise

With a click and a slight woosh, the safe yawned open. I tried not to step on Madoc in my haste to peer inside.

“Oh.”

My world tilted once more.

JAX

Everything went to shit just like I knew it would.

I lunged up the stairs, doing a cursory sweep for anything we could’ve left behind. Despite the unexpected hiccup, I was calm, mechanical. Panic didn’t shut me down; the opposite, actually. My mind cleared, my instincts sharpened. I was in my element, a predator set loose from its cage.

Except I wasn’t hunting.

I was running.

Our guest came up the stairs behind me, still jabbering away on his phone. Quickly, I ducked into the nearby study nook, inwardly groaning as I folded myself beneath the tiny desk.

Served me fucking right.

My neck panged at the awkward angle, my knees smashed against my chest. I’d never been good at hiding, not even as a kid when I’d tuck myself in small spaces to avoid my old man during one of his violent rampages. He’d always find me eventually, and the pain of uncurling after hours in the same position was almost as painful as his fists. Well, not really.

Stop whining, boy.

I squeezed my eyes shut like I could expel him from my head forever. He loved to pop up at the most inconvenient times like a patronizing ghoul. As the footsteps retreated into the main bedroom, my father goaded me into jumping on the man’s back and twisting his neck until it snapped. It sounded easy, but I knew it wasn’t. Humans didn’t just die quietly. My father had groaned and flailed like a fish when his heart gave out. They said it was instant—nothing could save him—but man, did it go on forever.

Still thinking about me, boy.

Right. Think about something else. Like the fact that I was still ragingly hard. Every time I shifted, trying to adjust, my weeping tip jutted against my zipper and sent a bolt of heat through my lower half. It was a stress boner. Or a rage boner. Fuck if I knew the difference anymore. I’d spent most of my turbulent youth jacking off, even when I was angry—no, especially when I was angry.

And, what do you know, I was still thinking about my dad.

My mouth went dry, and my hands started to tremble where they were fisted around my shins. Now wasn’t the time for my mega daddy issues to screw me over. They were too distracting, just like her.

Thinking of Olivia made my chest tight in a good way. I chased the feeling greedily, replaying the feel of her body against mine, the burning hatred and desire as I gave her what she desperately wanted—a rough, emotionless fuck. She could deny it all she wanted, but I knew the truth. She was guarded and clean, not pure but unspoiled. I wanted her to kneel at the altar that was my angry outlaw cock.

Fuck. This wasn’t helping.

Trying to be quiet, I jammed my fist into my dick. I wasn’t a sadist—I suspected that was more Madoc’s thing, which I could not think about right now—but the pain was grounding. In the main suite, I heard the shower turn on, a door click shut.

Time to end this nightmare.

I crawled out with a silent groan and took the stairs two at a time. When I reached the third landing, the first thing I saw was the door of the linen cupboard, open. My heart hammered into my sternum. Of fucking course. I knew she wouldn’t listen. I just knew it.

My head snapped to the right when I caught movement in the doorway.

“Where the fuck is she?” I growled.

Madoc tilted his head softly as he leaned against the frame, like I was late to some standing appointment. Normally, I appreciated his unwavering calm—now it only fed the wild animal in my chest.

Silently, Madoc stepped aside, giving me a glimpse into Salvadore’s office. I immediately clocked Olivia curled up on the floor, her back to me, her shoulders hitching in silent sobs. I shot Madoc a questioning look, which he returned flatly. Right. Too many emotions for him.

“Take watch,” I told him quietly. “We bounce in five.”

I didn’t hear his acknowledgment, but he was gone before I’d made it halfway across the room. Olivia didn’t react as I knelt beside her. She was blank-faced, despite her trembling frame. In her lap was a thick, leather-bound notebook with a gold-woven spine. It was fancy and well-used, like a relic or tome. My eyes shot up to the safe.

“It’s not enough,” Olivia mumbled, her voice thick with tears. Then she glanced up at me, rosy-cheeked and eyes like molten silver. “You came back for me.”

I didn’t acknowledge the shock in her voice. I kept my promises.