Bound by Vengeance (21 page)

“You’re making me nervous,” she whispered, wringing her hands.

“Is that so?” Folding his arms, he released a quiet huff. “Let me clue you in on a little something here, sunshine. The way you’re starting to question everything between us is making
me
nervous. If you would just think about what’s going on and start taking responsibility for your own actions, I wouldn’t feel the need to babysit you and make sure you’re not doing anything else that’s going to get you in trouble. Slinking around and pouting is only going to piss me off more. Is that what you want, Taylor? Do you want me to punish you again?”

Her dark hair whipped back and forth with her adamant den
ial. “No, sir.”

“Then straighten up,” he snapped.

She winced. “Yes, sir.”

Anger rolled through his veins. Prowling closer, he tilted his head and studied her. A small tremble worked its way through her slender frame. Taylor dropped her gaze.

“Are you even paying attention to what I am saying, or are these just automated responses to shut me up and get me off your back?” he asked.

Her anxious swallow echoed through the kitchen and broke the tense silence hanging between them. “I’m listening, Sebastian.”

“I sincerely hope that’s the truth. This is twice now. I won’t have this conversation with you again.”

Tears swam in her eyes and her response was unintelligible. He fought the urge to slap the frightened look off her face and snapped his fingers, pointing t
o the cutting board. She stumbled as she spun back to her tasks. Her slender body shook from the inside out. At this point, he doubted she even had any control over it. If she kept it up, she was going to cut herself and they’d be making a trip to the hospital on top of everything else.

Grinding his teeth together, he counted to ten and took a deep breath. He was on edge. She wasn’t entirely to blame for all of the stress and tension, but the beaten dog routine wasn’t helping any, and it certainly wasn’t g
oing to fly.

“Come here,” he ordered flatly.

She dropped the knife, her terrified eyes flying back to his. He held a hand out to her and waited. Her steps faltered and for a moment, he thought she was going to hit her knees. The tight clench of his muscles eased a bit when she slid her hand into his.

“I need you to think about us right now, Taylor. With everything that is going on with Laychee, I have a lot on my mind, and my patience is at a minimum. I don’t always like what I have to be to do my job, bu
t right now that coldhearted, calculating bastard is what is keeping you alive. You need to live with it. Tread softly and use your head—do the things you know I expect, and you will be fine.”

She mumbled a quiet apology. Sighing, he scowled and moved to t
he cupboard. He poured himself a half tumbler of whiskey and wordlessly pointed to the potatoes she’d been chopping on his way across the kitchen.

The early evening wind hit him in an icy assail the moment he slid the glass doors open and stepped out onto
the deck. As much as it frustrated him to be away from Taylor when he didn’t have to be, it was best he removed himself from the situation before he ended up doing something he’d regret. And he did regret punishing her. More than he cared to admit.

Settli
ng onto one of the padded loungers, he took a long drink and surveyed the grounds. The naked forms of maples, walnut, and aspen trees dotted the yard, mingling with the lush outlines of hearty firs and blue spruces. Finding his target, his gaze narrowed on Henderson. Despite the guard’s best attempts to veil it, Sebastian hadn’t missed the faint gleam of disapproval in his eyes when he’d questioned him earlier. The man was fond of Taylor. That much was obvious, and it was a fact that didn’t sit well with him. Not at all.

Rubbing a finger over the stubble above his lip, Sebastian wondered if that kind of concern would become a problem in the future or prove beneficial. As much as he hated the thought of another man forming any kind of emotional attachment to
Taylor, people always fought harder to defend the things they held dear. Conflicted, he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his attention still locked on the head of security. As if sensing his stare, the guard turned with an uneasy glance over his shoulder. Sebastian cocked his head in interest. The man boasted an impressive set of instincts. Fortunately, that little display was something he could appreciate. It looked like tonight was Henderson’s lucky night.

He downed the rest of the whiskey with a gr
imace. The burn diffused, branching into a pleasant warmth that helped dull his mind and ease some of the edge. Standing, he cast one last look at the security team before heading for the house. Taylor turned from the stove at the sound of the sliding glass door easing open. Though hesitant, her smile was a welcome sight. He crossed the kitchen in a few long strides and set his glass in the stainless steel sink before turning to wrap his arms around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder, Sebastian cradled her close. He closed his eyes, relishing her smell, as the warm scent of vanilla and cashmere washed over him. As always, they helped bring him back down, anchoring him in a place where it was okay to feel loved and safe.

“Perfect timing. Dinner is ju
st about done. Were your Sebby senses tingling?” she asked.

He arched a brow in confusion. “My what?”

She leaned into his embrace, and he buried his nose in her hair with an appreciative smile.

“Sebby senses. They’re like Spidey senses, only better,” she e
xplained. “You have this amazing insight and perception. Especially when it comes to people, like how you always seem to know where I am or what I’m thinking.”

He nodded against her neck and cradled the curve of her hipbones in his hands,
molding her against him. “It’s what I’m trained to do, darling,” he murmured. “I spent years learning how to read people, but you’re right. We have a very special connection. I know what you’re thinking because I’m in your head, Taylor. I know exactly how that mind of yours works, and I sense when you’re around because I can feel you,” he admitted, capturing her earlobe between his teeth with a husky murmur. “I can feel you pulsing beneath my skin.”

A soft moan parted her lips when he ground against her, an
d Sebastian groaned with pleasure as she squirmed in his grasp.

“D-dinner is done.”

Her breathless stammer made him happy, knowing it was desire and not fear tripping her up this time. Reaching up, he trailed his fingers over the delicate line of her jaw. “Saved by the bell,” he whispered. “We’ll continue this later. Let’s get the food on the table.”

They shared a peaceful dinner, and he had to hand it to her, nervous or not, Taylor still managed to serve the perfect meal. The steaks were pink inside, just
the way he liked them, and the broiled baby red potatoes were seasoned and crisped just right. She’d even managed to sneak a dish of asparagus into the second oven. Yet another perk of having a state-of-the-art kitchen and a woman who was eager to please. He smiled to himself as he pushed his plate away. All those long hours spent cooking together was really starting to pay off. If he wasn’t careful, the little minx’s culinary skills were going to make him fat. The thought almost made him snort.

Marx would
really have a fit then.

He helped clear the table and put things away before settling down with his laptop while Taylor loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen. His ears strained, listening to the sounds behind him and keeping track of her movements
as he studied the video feeds. A small frown creased his face upon finding no activity. Things were too quiet on the Laychee front, too still. Usually, there was at least one person coming or going from the warehouses or the man’s home. Tonight, both areas were a ghost town forcing an uneasy prickle to dance across the back of Sebastian’s neck as Laychee’s words recycled through his mind.

“I swear to you, our blood will be avenged. Everything’s in place.”

He rubbed a hand across his nape and scowled. What was in place? What the hell was he up to? A million scenarios played out in his head, none of them good. Sebastian squeezed his sinuses and winced. He knew from experience, caution and security teams wouldn’t be enough to deter someone with Laychee’s experience. He dragged a hand down his face and peered into the shadows stretching across the yard.

Everything in him warned there was a storm brewing on the horizon. If he’d been blessed with any virtues at all, patien
ce wasn’t one of them. His instincts screamed to pounce, to eliminate the threat. It was what he was trained for, to strike and kill first. This feeling of being the prey, bait, didn’t sit well with him. He glanced at Taylor. If Marx’s little fishing expedition hurt his family, the fucker wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.

Chapter 10 ~

The soft, golden haze engulfing his surroundings told Sebastian it was a dream, but he clung to it, not wanting to wake up. The crisp scent of bacon and coffee hung in the air, luring him down the steps. He prowled silently through the house, smiling to himself as he heard Taylor’s throaty voice wafting from the kitchen as she sang along to some bluesy Stevie Knicks tune.
Gypsy
, he believed. His mother had played that song often. It was amazing how much he missed her, and just how often that sentiment snuck up on him and caught him unaware.

After rounding into the kitchen, he froze and leaned against the archway, stunned by what he saw. Taylor’s dark hair spilled over
her shoulders, the lighter chestnut highlights blazing like spun gold in the early morning sun. Happiness and contentment shone on her delicate features, and even her skin seemed to glow from somewhere deep within. He couldn’t remember her ever looking more beautiful or alive.

Sebastian’s brow knitted as his gaze roamed over her curves in languid appreciation and locked on the rounded swell of her stomach. Once he realized he was still dreaming, the confusion passed as quickly as it came. The notion seemed
as natural and welcome to him as breathing. He crossed the room in long strides, eager to greet both mother and unborn child. After dropping a tender kiss on Taylor’s lips, he crouched down to run his palms over her mounded belly. Fascinated and enthralled, he caressed the gentle swell and lifted his eyes to hers. Her smile melted his heart.

“How are my two favorite people doing this morning?” he asked, straightening to snare her hips and cradle her closer. The warm press of her hands as they rubbed up and
down his back was pure heaven and he closed his eyes with a contented rumble.

“I’m wonderful,” she purred, nuzzling his neck. “As for our son, he finally wore himself out and went to sleep. I think I’m harboring a future kick boxing champion. The little f
ighter kept me up all night.”

An unrepentant grin tugged his lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

But he wasn’t. Not really. He was excited and proud. Damn proud. They were going to have a son. A little part of them, an extension of their love and the life they shared that would live on well after the both of them were dead and gone. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and still trying to wrap his mind around that when the first shot shattered the silence. There was no warning, just a quiet ping and the telltale tinkle of glass as it exploded inward in a violent spray.

Sebastian whirled from the counter, the mug falling from his hands. He dimly registered the hot scald splashing against his pant legs, but he couldn’t move. His mouth opened and closed in soundless h
orror and he hit his knees, scrambling across the cold stone floor to get to Taylor. She lay motionless, a dark, sinister puddle pooling beneath her head. The frying pan she’d been clutching had fallen from her hand and still spun in a haphazard spin against the floor a few feet away. Agony clenched around his heart and squeezed the air from his lungs with an iron fist as he gathered her against him. Rocking her lifeless body in his arms, he cried and screamed her name.

Sebastian sat up with a start, his br
eath coming loud and ragged in the quiet confines of their bedroom. Panting, he tried to gulp fresh oxygen into his aching lungs, his entire body still heaving with anguish. He fumbled blindly, ignoring the shrill ring of his phone, as he groped for reassurance beside him. Finding Taylor still there and breathing, he gave an audible sigh of relief. He wanted nothing more than to curl his body around hers, hold on tightly, and never let go. Shuddering, he swiped at the warm dampness still clinging to his cheeks and rolled toward the nightstand to reach for his phone. His voice came out in a choked rasp.

“Yeah?”

“Sebastian?”

Dominic’s voice caught him by surprise. Pulling the phone away, he squinted and double-checked the caller ID. “Yeah, what is it?”

“We got problems, Baas.”

“When don’t we? I’m trying to sleep here, so spit it out,” he snapped, finding some small semblance of himself again. His gaze travelled to the slender form outlined beside his and he combed a shaky hand through his hair. Jesus, he was a
mess. He needed to pull himself together, and fast.

“There’s a shipment coming in at the old warehouse. Word on the street is this is the final one and it’s packing a heavy punch. Marx wants you to meet me out there to get some intell.”