AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Something loud wokeme with a startle, my eyes surging open, my heart racing. I hadn’t dreamed last night. I didn’t see scary faces surrounding me in the darkness, didn’t feel someone chasing me as I looked over my shoulder. I didn’t dream of being held down and blood covering me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so soundly, where the nightmares didn’t drag me down and try to keep me there.
I pushed the blanket off my body and sat up, wincing from the kink in my neck from sleeping in the same position all night. Morning sunlight streamed through the window. Even though I knew the hectic-day life was in full gear just outside the glass and steel, I didn’t hear honking cars or the thick life of traffic. I inhaled and smelled the faintest hint of lavender and lemon.
I heard another sound come from outside the room, and I stared at the closed bedroom door for a moment before forcing myself out of bed and into the bathroom. After I used the restroom, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. My long dark hair was in unruly waves and cascading down my shoulders and back, tangles touching my cheeks. My hair was even more crazy because I'd slept with it wet, and trying to tame it was a losing battle. I gave up, grabbed a hair tie from my backpack, and was back in front of the mirror, pulling the long fall off my shoulders and into a ponytail.
The bags under my eyes were horrendous, and they stood out like a neon sign against my too-pale face. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to enter a beauty contest. I was quite literally trying to stay alive. So fuck it if I looked like the living dead.
I left the bathroom and shut off the light, headed toward the bedroom door, and gripped the handle, my nerves takingcontrol. I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway but didn’t move right away, just stood there trying to control my breathing. I didn’t hear anything, just the stillness of the apartment, which was a little unnerving. But then I shook my head to clear it, feeling stupid. A quiet house should be the least unnerving thing going on in my life right now.
I stopped at the end of the hall and saw part of the kitchen and living room. My heart was thundering in my chest so loudly I wondered if it could be heard outside my body.
There was a light sound of something being set down, and I leaned to the side and looked into the kitchen. There, sitting at the small dining room table, was Arlo. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him sitting there shirtless, tattoos covering his body, some that were very clearly Russian.
Bratva.
It all fell into place as I took in the stars on his shoulders, the Russian-style cathedral tattooed in vivid, gorgeous detail in the center of his chest, and a Russian nesting doll inked on his entire right side. He had a myriad of other dark and colorful ink along his broad shoulders, biceps, forearms, and very defined chest.
I felt a flush move through me so powerfully it was hard to catch my breath for a moment.
My gaze landed on the gun sitting right beside his hand on the dining room table.
Without looking up from the paper in front of him, he said in a deep, low voice, “If you’re a coffee drinker, there’s some in the pot. If not, all I have is water.” He flipped a page on the paper. “The pastries were just delivered and are in a box on the counter.”
I didn’t move for a second, and he looked up at me, dark gaze slowly moving up and down my body. My shorts were high up on my thighs, my T-shirt long enough to cover them. It probably looked like I wore nothing underneath.
Although I was fully dressed, I couldn’t help but feel like I was totally nude in front of him. I tugged on the hem of my shirt before diverting my gaze and making my way toward the kitchen. I could smell the coffee, and although I wasn’t much of a fan, I figured now was as good a time as ever to get a little caffeine fix.
After I poured a cup, not bothering with sugar or milk because I didn’t want to go rummaging through his things, I opened up the box and grabbed the first danish I could see. I could still feel Arlo looking at me, but I refused to meet his gaze.
Although I had so many more questions, I didn’t know if he’d be forthcoming with the answers. But then again, I wouldn’t know unless I asked.
After I swallowed a bite of danish and washed it down with some coffee, I set the cup on the granite counter and looked up at him. He was back to reading the paper, and from the distance I could see it was in another language—Eastern European if I had to guess by the letters.
Although he didn’t have a noticeable accent, a few times I had heard a difference in the way he pronounced certain words. “I didn’t realize you could get international papers in Desolation.” Truth was, I didn’t know if you could or couldn’t get anything in this godforsaken city. I hadn’t been here long enough, and it wasn’t as if I’d checked out the lay of the land.
He leaned back in the chair, and I forced myself not to look at the way the muscles under his tattooed, golden skin flexed with that small movement.
Arlo was a big man, broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a ridiculously defined abdomen. I could see the gray sweatpants he wore from this vantage point, a very outlined V of cut muscle starting on either side of his waist and disappearing underneath the material. I picked up my glass and took a drink. As soon as I swallowed too much liquid, I regretted it.
I sputtered and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes watering, my tongue burning because the coffee was so damn hot. I turned my back to Arlo and coughed a couple more times, patting my chest and only turned around once I could breathe again. He still had his focus on me, but the corner of his mouth was tipped up ever so slightly, as if he thought it was amusing. I found a spark of anger and annoyance moving through me, but I didn’t say anything.
“Desolation can get anything you want, Lina.” He lifted his coffee mug to his mouth and took a long, slow drink as he watched me.Don’t look at that bulging bicep. Don’t watch the way it clenches and relaxes just from him picking up a damn ceramic mug.
“Italian, Russian, Spanish. Any language you want… anything you want, you can get for a price.” He set his mug down but kept his fingers curled around the handle. His other arm still rested over the back of the chair beside him. His position was easygoing and relaxed, and God, he made it look sexy.
Maybe I was suffering from some instantaneous Stockholm syndrome? But I knew that wasn’t true. I’d felt this dark desire for him the moment I saw him months ago. Now that I was in his home… forced to stay here for my “own good,” I felt like I was losing my mind slowly.
“Do you know how to fight?”
His question took me off guard, and I eyed him as I swallowed another bite of danish. “I think?” I felt my face heat at the stupid words that just spilled from my mouth. “Well, I’ve taken a couple self-defense classes and always carry pepper spray on me. I can defend myself if needed.” I wondered if he’d seen me in the alley after I doused the asshole in the face with my pepper spray before kneeing him in the nuts and taking off.
Although the truth was, I’d gotten very lucky in that instance, in being able to leave. The bastard had been stronger, bigger.All it would’ve taken was my hands to be restrained and my bag tossed away, and I would’ve been at his mercy. I wasn’t strong in the physical sense, and the few self-defense moves I knew wouldn’t help me if somebody really wanted to hurt me.
“I’ll teach you how to fight.”
I felt my eyebrows rise to my hairline at his words.Teach me how to fight?It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, that fighting and violence were the last things I wanted. But was it really? I needed to learn to protect myself, not just from the Vegas shit, but all this other stuff now too.
“Nonnegotiable, Lina.”
