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I stand against the wall, staving off the tremors racking me. Heath drops his weapon to the table and hooks an arm around my shoulders, dragging me into his velvety flesh, now chilled from the air outside.
If ever a fairytale came to an end, it’s with a threat of attack.
“What tripped the boobytrap?” I manage in a weak whisper.
“Some animal. Probably a stray cat looking for food.”
I nod, rubbing my nose against his hard chest, drinking in his scent, his feel and knowing it will all soon end.
He brushes his lips across my forehead in the most tender of touches. My eyes slip shut.
“You start breakfast. I’m going to get dressed and haul in more wood for the fire,” he says.
This very normal sentence executed in a very normal Heath rumble sets the world right again.
I nod and he lets me go. Minutes later, I’ve got bacon on the table and Heath comes in from outside, stomping the snow from his boots on the entry mat.
Throwing a look over my shoulder, I grin. “Can you be any louder, Connolly?”
“No, but my next challenge is to see ifyoucan be.”
A heated flush works its way up from my core to warm my neck and face. He kicks off his boots and I start to tell him that breakfast is on the table, but his phone rings, stopping us both.
The sound I haven’t heard in days is so foreign that it snaps me back to reality like nothing else could. Not even the disruption of beer cans strung around the property can jerk the rug of this fairytale out from under me as fast.
Heath pulls out his phone.
The light dies from his eyes. His smile turns to a furious scowl.
It’s like a switch has been flipped. Suddenly, he’s the Heath I don’t know, the fearsome mobster who does unspeakable things.
He jerks the phone to his ear. “What?” His voice has gone from teasing to a cold crack.
Without sparing me a glance, he stomps into the bedroom and slams the door. Ice floods my veins. I grip the edge of the table, the scent of bacon in my nose but terror throbbing in my heart.
Seconds pass in silence.
I jump when Heath issues a series of shouts at whoever is on the phone. Something inside me wilts.
I never want him to talk to me like that.
Heath
My fist clenches at my side as I pace the small bedroom. My brother Linc’s voice in my ear has me back in Detroit with him, not in this cabin.
“Sergei has been asking questions, man,” Linc says.
Sergei Stepanov has practically been the only name in my mind since Serenity showed up at my door.
“What kind of questions?” I demand.
My brother doesn’t immediately respond.
“I swear to God I will drive home and beat the shit out of you if you don’t spit out the words in two seconds.”
“He’s asking anyone who knows Serenity if they’ve seen her. Even her idiot brother has been asking questions.”
“Did you take care of them?” I demand, my voice growing louder with every word.
