Cruel Love Page 4

  Chapter 6

  Dani

  “Dani.”

  I don’t stop walking. Fox has said my name at least a dozen times since we left that motel, but I haven’t answered him. I can’t even look at him. If I do, I’m afraid I might scream or say something I’ll regret.

  He’s leaving me again.

  For a moment, I thought he’d do the right thing. I thought he’d turn around in that room, take my hand, and march us outside. Never look back. Take Caleb and Boxcar along with us. Snake Eyes is a thing of the past. He told me that himself. He was done with that life.

  But it’s not done with him yet.

  I pause by our front door, quickly fishing into my jacket pocket for the key. Boxcar has built quite the security fortress for us. No one gets inside the house unless we let them in. Unfortunately, this means that Fox has all the time in the world to catch up to me before I find and swipe my keycard. I put in the code. I twist the lock.

  “Dani.”

  His fingers brush my arm as I cross over the threshold. Just one light touch fires up my skin, igniting me as it always has.

  I ignore it and rush toward the stairwell, peeling my jacket off as I go.

  My steps echo throughout the silent foyer. I turn my head slightly to see him standing at the bottom in my peripheral vision. He watches me walk away from him. The tension between us builds, but I’m not ready to talk to him yet.

  I walk into our bedroom and look at the mirror hanging on the wall, eyes instantly drawn to the wound on my shoulder. Fox shot me and the bullet went right through me to strike Mercer Black in the heart. I don’t remember anything after that except for a few flashes and sounds. My father screaming. Mrs. Clark’s stone-cold concentration as she held a hot iron to my skin. Fox cradling me in the backseat of a car with one hand pressed against my pulse.

  Look at me, Dani. Stay with me.

  You’re going to be okay.

  I believed him. Why wouldn’t I?

  He swore to protect me. He promised that nothing would hurt me ever again.

  I believed him.

  I won’t make that mistake again.

  Fox appears behind me in the mirror. He stands in the doorway as if waiting for permission to come in. “Dani.”

  I hold up a hand. “Stop saying my name like that, Fox.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m the one who’s wrong.”

  “I don’t mean it like that.” He takes a step into the room. “I just want you to look at me.”

  I fill my lungs until it feels like they might burst. Finally, I turn and look into his handsome face. Even with the broken line along his cheek, he still has that boyish charm he’s walked around with since our days at Belle Academy. Maybe that’s what made him so good at his job. No one saw him coming and if they did, they didn’t expect it.

  “There,” I say. “I looked at you.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry. This isn’t something I want to do.”

  I turn away from him again. “Leave me alone, Fox.”

  “Dani, talk to me.”

  I halt in my tracks and laugh. It comes so suddenly from the depths of my gut. “Talk to you?” I ask. “Talk to you? Talk to me.”

  He squints. “What do you mean?”

  “You were gone for five years, Fox,” I say. “For five years, you were out there, but you won’t tell me what happened to you.”

  “You don’t want to know that.”

  “I’m standing here — right in front of you — telling you that I do. You think I don’t notice that you barely sleep? That you jerk awake, covered in sweat? What is it that keeps you up all night, Fox?”

  “You don’t want to know,” he repeats. “The things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt. You’ll look at me differently and I don’t want that.”

  “I’ve seen you kill. I’ve seen what you can do. What difference will a few more stories make?”

  “All of it.” His voice falls. “You have to trust me on this.”

  I look at the floor, trying hard to keep the tears down. “You’re not here, Fox,” I whisper. “Three months you’ve lied next to me but you’re not here. Even when we make love, there’s a part of you that’s missing. You’re holding back.”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m not some collectible, Fox. You don’t have to keep me in mint condition.”

  His eyes drop to my still-healing shoulder. “I didn’t say you were.”

  I shake my head. His tone is rock solid. Steady and firm. Short, vague responses. “You’re going no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

  Fox exhales. “Yes.”

  “Then, leave,” I say, forcing my lips to stop trembling. “If that’s what you want, then go.”

  “That’s not what I want. I don’t want to go with them.”

  “Then, why are you going?”

  He steps closer and his hand rises to his face. “You see this scar?” he asks, tracing the white line along his cheek. “Elijah’s the one who patched me up. He was like me, Dani. He got dragged into Snake Eyes. He didn’t want that life. When I escaped, I thought that there must be others in the organization just like us.”

  “The same Elijah who dosed Caleb?”

  “To get to me.”

  “And what makes you think they aren’t still trying to kill you, Fox?” I ask. “You could be walking into a trap.”

  “It’s possible.”

  I throw up my hands. “How can you be so calm about this?!”

  “Because this is what I’m good at.” He looks down. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

  I pause. “Fox, that’s not true.”

  “I exposed Snake Eyes and I hoped that people like me and Elijah would find their way out, but I was naïve to think that it’d all be over once I did. Dante’s right. We can’t really move on until the Boss is gone for good. She’ll keep coming after me and she’ll do that through you just like Mercer did.”

  I feel a pain deep in my shoulder. A soft twinge in my cheek. We’re both covered with wounds and scars from Snake Eyes. Him more than me.

  I walk over and lay my hand on his cheek. The raised scar feels stiff against my fingers. He told me that he got that during his first mission in Snake Eyes. His target made him. He was forced to fight back.

  I push his jacket over his shoulders. He stands still, letting me do it until it tumbles to the floor. His brow furrows with confusion as I move his shirt collar over and expose the scar along the side of his neck.

  “Where did you get this one?” I ask.

  “Dani, don’t—”

  “Where?”

  He looks at me with hesitant eyes. “Kabul,” he answers. “Start of my first tour. Got into a sniper battle. I walked away. He didn’t.”

  I grip his shirt and slip the buttons free one-by-one. His hands twitch at his sides but he doesn’t try to stop me. He keeps his eyes on me as mine explore his damaged skin. That damned black cobra stares back at me as I lay my hands on his abs. I feel downward for the thick line on the left side of his ribcage.

  “And this one?” I ask.

  “Madrid,” he answers slowly. “I thought he was sleeping. I dropped my guard for a second and...”

  I draw the line with my fingertip, filling in the rest of it myself. “What did you do to him?”

  He doesn’t blink. He looks me right in the eyes as he says it. “I slit his throat,” he says, his lips slightly parted. “His mistress walked in. She saw everything. She couldn’t have been older than I was and I…” He swallows hard. “I did what was expected of me.”

  His voice drops as my bottom lip trembles.

  I walk around him and pull the shirt off his back. A few dozen gashes greet me along his shoulder blades, some fresher than others. Those happened in Denver when he took a bullet for me and shielded my body with his as we crashed through a window. I drove for ten hours with him in the passenger’s seat bleeding and dying beside me, not sure if he�
��d survive the night.

  “Dani...”

  I ignore him and crawl my fingers down his spine to find the discolored patch of skin at the small of his back.

  “This one?” I ask.

  “Stab wound,” he says. “A training exercise.”

  “Training exercise?”

  He reaches behind for my hand. “It wasn’t unusual for the squad leaders to pit the rookies against each other... for entertainment. They called it training, but...”

  I cringe and tug my hand away. Agents really are just pawns to these people. It wasn’t just their enemies looking to kill Fox. He could have been killed at any time by any of them just to amuse their squad leaders for an afternoon.

  I step around to face him again and reach for his belt. Fox lays his hand on my cheek to brush a tear away but another one instantly tumbles free.

  “Dani, stop,” he whispers.

  I push his zipper down.

  Fox grabs my hands. “I’ve been hit by cars,” he says. “I’ve been shot twelve times — at least. I’ve woken up with no recollection of how I got there. Days completely gone from memory that I’ll never get back. I could have ended it at any time. A few people I knew did.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask.

  He forces my palms flat against his chest. “Do you feel that?” he asks.

  A light thump teases my fingers. His heart is pounding, matching the erratic beat of blood in my ears.

  “My life didn’t belong to me,” he says. “It didn’t belong to Mercer or the Boss. Dani, my life belonged to you.”

  I look down as more tears fall.

  Fox lays a hand beneath my chin and guides my eyes back up. “I knew that I owed it to you to stay alive. The chances of seeing you ever again were nonexistent, but I thought that if you knew I was still alive, you’d want me to fight and survive. You’d want me to keep breathing, even if only for the sake of existing in the same world together. Was I wrong?”

  I exhale slowly. “No,” I answer.

  He holds my face in his hands. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve done things that I can’t take back, things that hurt you, and I’m sorry. I wish I could say there’d come a time in our lives when I’ll stop hurting you, but I’m not sure I can promise that. Not in a world where Snake Eyes still exists.”

  I try to pull away, but he holds me close. “Fox...”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’m coming back, Dani,” he says. “When I do, I’m going to make you my wife.”

  He reaches into his pants pocket. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out as soon as I see the velvet box in his palm.

  “Danielle Roberts, will you marry me?”

  Fox opens the box. A ring sits inside. A diamond mounted on a silver-colored band.

  It’s beautiful. Everything I imagined it’d be if I ever got married. I picture it instantly. I walk toward Fox in a white dress with flowers in my hands. He smiles, clad in a black suit and tie. We’re surrounded by family and friends.

  We’re normal. Just like everyone else.

  But that’s not who we are.

  We can never be that.

  I shake my head. “No,” I answer.

  Fox eases back a step but he stands taller. “Dani, I’m—”

  I kiss him, cutting him off as I wrap my arms around him. It takes him by surprise, but he embraces me as I lose my balance. He holds me up with ease, returning my kisses until we can barely breathe.

  “I won’t say yes,” I whisper, catching my breath. “Not until you come back to me.”

  He takes the ring out of the box. “I’ll come back,” he says as he forces it onto my finger. “I promise.”

  He lifts me a few inches off the floor, making my toes dangle in the air. I feel weightless and dizzy as if I might pass out at any second, but one look in his eyes centers me again.

  We turn and Fox takes a few strides toward the bed.

  I tighten my grip on him as a sob shakes me to the core. “I love you, Fox,” I say.

  He lays me down. “I love you. Since the moment I saw you, I knew...”

  I flash back to that night. Seventy degrees in December. A typical LA Christmas Eve. I thought he hated me.

  The next thing I knew, he lived down the hall.

  I pull him down to my lips. His tongue laps gently against mine as I feel down his abs toward his belt again. He runs his hands beneath my top, guiding it up and over my head to expose my breasts.

  We move quickly with passion and greed. It’s different than before. Before, he touched me as if I were breakable. America’s Sweetheart, he sometimes called me. That might have been true once, but not anymore. Not if I have any say in it.

  Fox eases back and pulls my pants off with one quick tug, taking my panties with them. He’s back on me in a second, his lips hungry for a few more long, urgent kisses. I push his pants down over his rear. His hands roam every inch of me as he settles between my thighs. It’s so fast and eager, so different than our first time together.

  I tried to stop. I tried to shut it off and ignore it, but I can’t.

  It’s always been you, Dani.

  He made love to me and I never saw him again. That haunted me for years. I wondered what I’d done wrong. If I wasn’t any good. If I really was nothing more than a silly joke to him.

  Eventually, sadness became anger. When they told us he was killed in action, that anger turned cold, but a lingering sadness never left me.

  I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be thinking the same thing five years from now.

  He made love to me and I never saw him again.

  Fox pins my arms above my head. Our lips don’t part for more than a second as he eases between my thighs. His kiss is slow and precise, almost teasing. I feel his tip slip between my folds, but he doesn’t thrust. The tease is unbearable. I feel my insides pulsing for him, growing more enraged by the second.

  Finally, he shifts forward, penetrating me. I lay my head back, closing my eyes to focus and feel it. His lips fall to my exposed neck, biting down. The sharp nip travels back behind my ear, radiating my senses.

  Passion takes us both. I begin to move my hips to meet his swift thrusts, but I can’t move more than that. I can barely think. It’s hard and fast, unlike any other time we’ve been together. He doesn’t hold back. He takes what he wants from me and I give in to it without thinking.

  “Fox...” I whimper as my toes curl.

  I’m not a collectible. If Fox is damaged, then so am I.

  He brushes his lips along my shoulder, pressing down to kiss my healing wound. He regrets shooting me that day. I don’t. In my mind, I took that bullet to save him. I’d do it again if I had to.

  My shoulder twinges. I wince as a bit of pain travels down to my wrist. Fox releases my right hand and guides my arm down to my side, almost as if he could feel it, too. His hips continue their fast and steady grind. I feel myself tightening around him, hurdling closer toward release, but I hold on. I want to make this feeling last for as long as possible. I want this night to last forever.

  If it does, then he’ll never leave.

  He’ll never go on one last dangerous mission. Everyone knows how that goes in the movies. Just one final job. One week until retirement. It’s a jinx, plain and simple. The odds aren’t in our favor.

  Tears fill my eyes again, fighting the pleasure tearing me apart from the inside out.

  “Fox,” I breathe, choking on the sob.

  He halts deep inside of me, his tattooed chest heaving. “Don’t think about it, Dani,” he whispers. He rests his forehead on mine, staring into my eyes. “Just be here. Now. With me.”

  I swallow my tears, giving in to electricity dancing throughout my spine. I touch his cheek. That white scar sticks out against my fingertips and he closes his eyes as I feel it. My own face twitches with pain as I remember Mercer’s blade slicing my cheek. He did that to get Fox’s attention. To connect the two of us together and that’s exactly what it did. My scar is gone now, rever
sed by expensive doctors and specialists, but I still feel it on the inside.

  My connection to Fox. It’ll never go away.

  I kiss him again, feeling the last of my tears disappearing as my lips curl.

  “What?” he asks, smiling with me.

  I block it all out. I picture a world without Snake Eyes. No more Boss. No more killing. Just me and Fox in his cabin outside of Mrs. Clark’s farmhouse. Finally together against all odds.

  I won’t let it all fade to black this time.

  Chapter 7

  Luka

  I am being watched.

  It’s a funny feeling, one that creeps into my psyche long before I even open my eyes. In the old days, I would have sprung into action to eliminate whatever enemy felt compelled to attack me or any member of my family, but things have changed for me over the last year.

  I wake up in near-perfect darkness, though a bit of daylight manages to slip in-between the thick, black curtains along the window. I reach out to feel for Sofia, but her side of the bed is ice cold.

  Still, I feel the eyes on me.

  I stretch out my legs as consciousness takes hold and my foot bumps into something sitting at the end of my bed.

  He chuckles. His laughter is warm and childishly sinister.

  I squint at him as his small body takes shape in front of me.

  “Lucian...” I murmur.

  I reach for the switch above the bed and flick the lamp on, illuminating my son’s grinning face. He’s dressed in black shorts and a navy shirt. The bottoms of his white socks are filthy, no doubt from running through the flower beds and driving Sofia crazy. He holds a thick book in his hands with a maroon cover. The soft, Italian features he shares with his mother stand out as he smiles at me but not as much as his bright, silver eyes.

  Those are all mine.

  “Lucian,” I say again, smiling back. “What are you doing?”

  He drops the book on the bed between us. Russian fairy tales.

  “You want me to read to you?” I ask him.

  He nods.

  “Lucian, these are bedtime stories,” I point out. “It’s not time for bed.”

  “Per favore, Papa.”