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“Will do, captain.”
“I’m not the leader of the fucking pack, Lee.”
“The board of misfits would say otherwise. Remember the vote last year? Face it, dude, you are numero uno; is that Italian?”
“No, Spanish, fucker,” I laugh.
I run a hand through my hair. “I never wanted to be a leader, Vasily, and you know it.”
“Comprende, Padre,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “I know, but you became one the minute the Company betrayed all of us when they put Derick in charge of our little black ops program.”
“Fanculo,” I swear. “That’s Italian for asshole; and my life is fucked,” I say, staring at the closed door to her room. Taking a deep breath, I smile. “Fuck, I’m going in, wish me luck,” I say, wiping a hand over my face.
“I’m hoping you’re referring to her room, and not her,” he laughs, making a gagging noise.
I end the call, swearing in Italian under my breath.
“In nome del Padre.” Please make it a quick death I mutter, touching my head, heart, and both shoulders in a silent prayer.
I try the handle—she left it open for me. Instinctively I reach for my gun when I enter the dark room. But she isn’t standing there with her shotgun to put a cap in my ass. Or with her knife to gut me instead. She is lying on her side on the ugly yellow comforter with her clothes still on. I stop dead in my tracks, what the hell? Is she crying? I softly close the door behind me, the only light coming from the fluorescent light of the open bathroom door. I have no idea what to do as I push my hands in my pockets and walk to her bed.
“Go the fuck away,” she whispers, her body shuddering as her voice cracks.
“I’m not going to do that.” I tell her, taking off my suit jacket, then my guns and the knives I’ve got strapped to my body. I pull off my black tie and open the top two buttons of my dress shirt.
She makes a pained sound, and I reach out for her, waging a war inside myself if I should take her in my arms or walk away. I can’t, placing my hand on her shoulder she reaches back with her left hand and clutches my scarred palm to my amazement, locking our fingers together while I sit behind her on the bed.
Should I hold her? I stare at her red painted toenails. Taking a deep breath, I kick off my shoes and lay on the covers behind her. I don’t know how to act like a normal human being. Most of the time I mirror everything people do to make them feel at ease, but with her I’m at a loss.
She freezes and a whimper runs through her body when I move closer. My face inches away from her black curly hair. She smells of mint and lemon. I close my eyes, cursing my dick which is pressing painfully against the zipper of my slacks.
Paxton lets go of my hand and takes a deep breath. She starts to talk, staring at the wall while I run my eyes over the feminine lines of her body.
“I hated you and feared you for so many years. And now you’re telling me it was all a lie.”
I nod, not saying anything.
“You,” she whispers, her voice shaking like her body. “I had a good life, you know?” she says, turning on her back while I push my hand under my arm. Her beauty is like a punch in the gut. Her kissable lips, straight dark eyebrows. Those different colored eyes catch mine, and it takes every last ounce of self-control not to kiss her.
“I’m not going to kill you, asshole. You gave me Iggy, and he’s become the love of my life. Not you, I can’t love you,” she states, slicing through the armor I wear.
I nod, knowing I won’t come between my son and Paxton, and I don’t want to. I know she can never love a monster like me.
“I never wanted kids,” I confess, and she cringes. “I’m fucking crazy, Pax. I don’t feel anything. The only time I feel a twinge of something is when I kill a man.”
“This is so fucked up being here with you. And I don’t believe that. Why did you want me then?” she asks, sitting up on her elbows.
“I—” I frown. “I saw you and had to have you.”
“But why?” She holds my gaze.
I don’t have an answer for her, not yet. I can never love someone else. I can protect her and Iggy. I can protect my men, Vasily. I want them to be safe, but this isn’t love, it’s protection.
“Tell me more about him,” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse. “Is he—” I close my eyes for a second and feel her hand caressing my cheek.
“He isn’t, he’s kind. He cares so much. He stands up for those who need his help. He makes me laugh, he’s smart. He’s a strong kid.”
“Fuck,” I let out a shaky breath. “He can feel.”
