AS I CHOP AN ASSORTMENT of vegetables for the stew I’m making for dinner, I hear Raze’s truck pull up outside the cabin and shut off. The truck I didn’t know he had here until this morning, when he woke me up to tell me he was going to take care of some business and would be back later.
“Business? What business?” I rubbed my sleepy eyes, sitting up in the bed he now insisted I sleep in, extremely confused and a little panicked. “How? Why? Are you leaving me here?”
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat, kotyonok?” He patted the top of my head and chuckled. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be back in a little while, but I need you to give me your word that you won’t leave this place for any reason. I know you want to go home. I do, too. And you have to trust I’m working toward that for both of us. But if you run . . . there’s a good chance I can’t save you out there. Too many bad guys.”
Instead of commenting on the irony of his statement, I sighed and fell back on the hard mattress with my eyes closed, hating that he was right. “I know, Raze. I give you my word I won’t leave. But how are you getting wherever it is you’re going? You gonna walk?”
He pushed off the bed and stood to his full, towering height. “No, I’m most definitely not gonna walk, girl. I have a truck here, parked around back. You think I’d leave us stranded somewhere in case the shit hit the fan?”
“A truck?!” I screeched as my eyes flew open. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a truck here?”
Amusement danced across his face as he shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the first rule in Abduction 101 is not to tell the captive about their escape options,” he joked. “What? Should I have had a spare key made for you too?”
Again, he’s fucking right, and it annoys me. “So why are you telling me now?”
“Because if you’re smart enough to not bolt today, I’ll prove to you why you should trust me for doing what’s best for you.” He spun around to leave the room, but looked over his shoulder and added one last thing before disappearing. “I got word late last night that Vincent has emerged and is interested in meeting with Pakhan as soon as he’s back in the States. Things will begin to move quickly now. I need you to trust me now more than ever.”
So he left to take care of business—whatever that meant—and I spent the morning cleaning the inside of the cabin instead of worrying more about the fate of Vincent Ricci and myself. Something I have little control of at this point. Don’t ask me why, but I found some general household cleaners under the kitchen sink the other day, and since I’m not sure I can watch one more movie or read one more book this week, I went on a scrubbing, dusting, and scouring rampage. And damn did it ever feel good!
That’s how I got inspired to make this beef stew. Some domestic switch went off in my head and I needed to cook and clean. Because even if my life is the furthest fucking thing from normal as you can get, doing these things at least makes me feel normal.
The sound of the key turning in the locks, followed by the squeak of the door hinges opening and closing, makes me smile. I doubt Raze will notice the missing layer of dust on the mantle, or that the kitchen sink no longer has rust caked around the faucet, but just him being back improves my mood. He and I may have gotten off to a rough start—I mean, I still haven’t forgotten he’s a crazy, twisted mafia dude who played a part in my abduction—but things have changed between us. Not everyone is always what they seem.
“Did everything go okay? You were gone for a while,” I call out when Raze doesn’t say anything at first, not bothering to turn away from the potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery I’ve got laid out on the cutting board.
A few seconds longer of chopping, and he still hasn’t greeted me, so naturally, I’m curious about what he’s doing or why he’s ignoring me. Dropping the knife, I wipe my hands off on a nearby wadded-up paper towel then spin around to peer into the living room.
And that’s when time stops around me.
I blink hard. Once. Twice. Maybe a hundred times. Then, still not believing the image in front of me, I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands before focusing yet again on a man who looks exactly like Madden. I have to be hallucinating.
He’s staring straight ahead, looking at me the way only Madden Decker can look at me. Like he has tunnel vision past all of the bad shit and can only see the best parts of me. He knows about the light buried in my soul.
“Blake.” He inhales deeply as he says my name, like it’s the most important breath of his life. “It’s really you.”
I’m not sure why, but I look down at my body to ensure it really is me. I’ve got on fleece gray sweats, a solid red t-shirt, and matching fuzzy socks—all clothes Raze had brought in for me—but it’s definitely me underneath the layers of clothing. Then, I lift my focus back up to take him all in, looking even more gorgeous than I remember, dressed in black from head to toe.
“It is,” I whisper, still not sure this isn’t a dream. “But is it really you?”
Nodding, he hastily removes the baseball hat from his head and flashes me a smile so big, so full of love, that I swear my heart melts to liquid. “I had to grow my hair out this week, ‘cause I had to pretend I was Easton to get out of the house.”
Keeping the tears at bay is an impossible task. I don’t understand what is going on right now, and this entire thing is so incredibly fucked up. I’ve almost convinced myself the man I dream about every night is actually standing in the middle of the cabin.
“H-how did you find me? How did you get here? Are you taking me home? Where’s Raze? Oh, my God, did you kill him? Madden, we’ve gotta get out of here. They’ll come looking for us.” Once I ask the first question, I can’t stop the rambling. My brain is in freak-the-fuck-out mode, and I don’t know whether to laugh, scream, cry, or pass out.
Thankfully, Madden recognizes me teetering on the edge of lucidity, and in the blink of an eye, I’m crushed against his chest. Surrounded by him. Engulfed in him. Clinging to him. And then, and only then, I know it truly is him. My Madden came for me.
“Shh. Slow and steady, sweet girl.” He rests his cheek against the top of my head while rocking me against him. “I didn’t kill anyone to get here. Raze knows; he brought me in so I could see you.”
Tilting my neck back so our eyes meet, I crinkle my forehead, utterly dumbfounded. “Raze brought you here? Why? Did he tell you why they have me? Do you know Emer—”
His mouth slams down on mine in a commanding kiss, cutting me off before I can continue. My lips part for him instinctively, and our tongues stroke and caress each other’s, wild and untamed, making up for the days we’ve missed.
And as I share his breath, as I savor his taste, all of my worries and concerns melt away. Vincent. Ish. Emerson. The Russians. All of it, gone. The only thing that matters is this man. This kiss. This moment in time.
“Talk later,” he mumbles against my mouth. “Us first. Been too long.”
I don’t dare argue. I want to us forever with him.
Threading his fingers through my hair, our tongues tangle in a dance of desperation as my heart pounds out a bass line of devastating pleas. His hips push me backward until I feel my back hit the wood-panel wall then his firm thigh nudges my legs open so that he’s pressed up against my pulsing center. I whimper into his mouth, powerless to deny myself the urge to rock against him as I feel his thick shaft begin to harden. I think I may be dreaming again, and if so, I don’t ever want to wake up.