Demand (12 page)

I'd rebel against that order if he weren't The Hawk, who I've vowed to battle behind closed doors, and if I weren't certain Carlo had just challenged him over me. Which makes me want to stay and fight my own battle, and his too, but he is
The Hawk
, and I can't risk working against his leadership. Knowing my show of respect is critical right now, I force myself to turn and walk to the door dividing me from our tower, jabbing the code into the keypad.

The door begins to lift, and for once, my impatience does not win as I wait for it to rise all the way up, hoping to overhear the conversation sure to take place between Kayden and Carlo. But they start talking in Italian, driving home how important it is for me to learn the language—and then Adriel's and Matteo's voices join the conversation, surprising me. Giving the door my profile, I bring the foursome into view to find Matteo standing next to Carlo, and Adriel next to Kayden. Perhaps the choice of positions is simply convenience, but I have this odd sense of a division that I do not like.

Too soon, considering I know nothing more, the door has fully lifted, and I'm forced to enter our tower, pressing the button on the other side to close the door. I rush up the stairs and go straight to our room, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against the hard surface, I stare at the bed now cast in shadows, ignoring the light switch, but I do not truly see it. Instead I think of Gallo's implication that someone is leaking information to him. And while Carlo seems an obvious choice, I'm just not sure. Someone who's a rebel and an asshole rarely finds safe haven with a police officer. And I have a flickering image of a man in a suit whose face I cannot see, saying those exact words to me.

I press my hands to my face. “My God. What is wrong with me?” I drop my hands and lean my head back against the door. “Why can't I remember? I'm not a scared person. Or do I just not remember the fear?” It's a horrible thought, and it doesn't matter anyway. I
have
to remember, or Kayden and I will always wonder about those triggers he mentioned. We will never truly have trust, and I will never really be at home here. The word
home
seems to be one of those triggers, for suddenly I'm seeing myself on a stage, dancing to an empty auditorium, and my mother
and
my father are watching. My father didn't approve of my dancing. My chest aches with the heaviness of the emotion now stirred, and I think my mind is telling me that dancing will take me places that will hurt, but I have to visit.

Ready to change clothes and go upstairs to the room Kayden has made my dance studio, I shove off of the door and make my way through the bathroom to the massive closet.
What if we're enemies?
I inhale, and reject the ridiculous notion that didn't exist at the coffee bar today. It is not possible that I could be Kayden's enemy.

Suddenly suffocating in my coat, I dig my phone out of its pocket, and then hang it up. Sitting down on the bench in the center of the closet, I have a memory of Kayden and me having sex right here, on top of it, and it's a good memory that curves my lips.
We are not enemies.
I pull my purse off and set it beside me, unzipping it to put my phone inside. Just for good measure I touch Charlie, which is one part a gift from Kayden, and another from my father, who taught me to use it. I want to say the only two men who have ever fully earned my respect and trust, but I can't know that for certain. Yet . . . I do.

The sound of the bedroom door opening and shutting has me zipping my purse and facing the door at the same moment Kayden appears, his biker jacket telling me he's not staying. He is so damn powerfully male that he consumes the small space, and me with it.

“That was about me, right?” I ask.

“Yes, but it's handled, as is Carlo's attitude.” He holds up the piece of paper Gallo left for me. “Tell me about this.”

“I told you all there is to tell,” I say, pressing my hands to the back of my jean-clad hips.

“Tell me again.”

“Gallo took assholeness to a whole new level, and I told him we were done talking. He left, I thought, and I didn't want to be on the street with him, so I went to the bathroom. I'd barely locked the door when it was slipped underneath.”

“He left?”

“He walked toward the door, but it was behind me, so he must not have.”

“So you don't know that Gallo put this under the door?”

“It's logical.”

“But you don't know.”

“I guess not.”

“What did Gallo say to you?”

I fold my arms in front of me, dreading this part of the conversation. “He all but told me one of your men was running his mouth. That's how he knew you'd be gone today.”

Kayden slips the note inside his jacket pocket, his jaw hard. “I met with the police chief this morning about that favor he wants.”

“And Gallo knew.”

“Apparently so.”

“Does that mean the police chief turned on you?”

“He isn't that foolish. Not with what he wants from me, and what I know about him that he doesn't want anyone else to know. And the cold, hard fact, which Gallo might have told you, is that I will use it if I have to.”

“You've been very honest with me about everything not being squeaky clean or easy.”

Kayden stares at me for several beats. “What did he say to you?”

“He showed me pictures of you with various people he claims you consort with, while running down their list of sins.”

“What people?”

“Raul. Niccolo.”

“Niccolo?”

“Yes. But he didn't seem to know anything related to me and him. Except he kept overusing my fake name, after saying he wanted to talk about my activities.”

“What activities?”

“It turned out to be my connection to your activities.”

“What activities?” he repeats.

“The connections to Raul and Niccolo, and there was a politician whose name I regretfully missed, who Gallo says employed you to either kill his wife or cover up her murder.”

He stands there, stone that cannot be broken, his eyes hard, his spine stiff, seconds ticking by before he says, “Why did you end the meeting?”

“He made a crass statement about a good fuck not making a good man.”

He closes the distance between us, stopping a step from touching me, the scent of him earthy and warm. “He made you doubt me.”

“No. He got me doubting
me
. He got at me and the amnesia. Part of the reason I went to that meeting was that reference to my ‘activities' that I feared would sideswipe us, or get to your men before me. I know in my heart that I can't be turned, but you can't take that risk. You can't operate as The Hawk with a woman who's a mental light switch from becoming a problem.”

He snags my hips, his touch spiraling through me, the way everything about this man spirals through me. “This was never about me trusting you,” he declares. “This was about you trusting me. About you waiting to find out about me from me, not fucking Gallo.”

Suddenly, every word he's spoken and every action he's taken since pulling me into that alcove shifts and takes on a new light. It's now about him daring to open himself up to me, about being raw and exposed, letting me see the blood of past wounds, while Gallo tries to cut them deeper.

“He can't turn me against you,” I say, grabbing his jacket again. “I'm with you, Kayden. All the way, in every way.”

He backs me up, pressing me against the wall. “You say that now, but being with me is not roses and chocolates, Ella. With me comes every dark, hard-to-swallow secret of The Underground.”

“If Enzo's death last night, and Gallo today, doesn't prove I'm here to stay, I don't know what will.
I'm here
. I'm not leaving.”

“I'm not just talking about Enzo or Gallo. I'm talking about me, and what this life does to me, and what it has made me. And I'm talking about us, and how that affects us.” He cups my backside and pulls me to him, my hand flattening on the solid wall of his chest. “You have no idea how dark I can be,” he declares, his voice a rough, low rumble. “You have no idea of the decisions I have to make, and how I cope with them. And if I didn't have business to attend to right now, I'd show you.” His forehead touches mine. “I'd make you understand.” His cheek slides to mine, his breath a warm tease on my neck and ear. “I can protect you from everyone but me.”

These words hit a nerve I don't understand, and my fingers curl around his shirt. “Don't. Don't protect me from you.”

“I've been cautious, Ella. I've been
gentle.
I've said I'll demand everything and more from you, but I haven't.”

I shove on his chest, forcing him to lean back and look at me. “Then you deny both of us the possibilities of what we could be.”

His eyes darken the pale blue to almost black. “I am—”

“
Not him
,” I say, knowing at least partially where this is coming from. “He didn't push my limits like you want to. He didn't escape with me. I was a possession he was free to punish—not please, tease, and pleasure. He took me to a sex club and tied me up and had a woman beat me. You would not do that. You are my escape. You make me forget that.”

“Until you see everything I am.”

“I am not afraid of who you are. I am afraid of who you
won't
be when you're with me, and what that does to us. So as of right now, be on notice. Fuck gentle. I demand everything and more. And don't you dare give me anything less.”

“I am many things you haven't tasted or touched, but this conversation isn't about me denying you, or us, those things. It's about me promising you that they're coming.” He releases me without warning, leaving me limp against the wall, stunned to find him walking toward the door.

“But you think it's the beginning of the end,” I say, my words halting him in the archway. “So I'll just have to hang on tight enough for both of us.”

He finally faces me, his face all hard lines and shadows. “Do you think I helped that man kill his wife, or at least cover it up?”

“I don't know what happened, but I believe that you make decisions that are honorable, or I wouldn't be here. And if you think you could stop me from leaving if I chose to, you're wrong. I'm resourceful.”

“If you weren't, you wouldn't have made it to that alleyway alive. We're going to a formal political event tonight. I'll make sure you have what you need. Be ready for the party by eight.” Then he disappears into the bathroom, his footsteps quickly fading, the bedroom door opening and closing, to seal me inside his world, not out, so much so that he's taking me to this event. At least for now.

I press my palms to the wall for much-needed stability, stunned by what just happened—but one thing is crystal clear. I have looked into his eyes and seen inside his soul, and I am deeply, passionately in love with him. But to have that matter, I can't just say the words. I have to show him. I have to fight with him and for him.

I can't speed up that process, but I can remove an obstacle. My amnesia. I hurry to the stool again and sit down, pulling my phone from my purse. Tabbing through the numbers, I pull up Nathan's number and dial the man who is not only my doctor but my hope right now.

“Ella,” he says two rings later.

“Can I see you? Or can you come here?”

“Is everything okay? Is your head bothering you again?”

“I'm fine. The concussion seems to be gone. I just . . . I need to talk. About my amnesia.”

“Kayden told me you might. And yes. I can come there and I will, but I'm at the hospital. It's nearly noon now; I'll be there in a couple of hours if I can. I'll meet you in the store.”

“Great. Thank you, Nathan.”

He hesitates. “I should warn you up front that that I might not have the answers you want.”

“I want you to make me remember.”

He laughs. “That's about as reasonable as you asking me to lose ten pounds in twenty-four hours. Some things take time.”

“Is that what you told Kayden? That my memory will take time?”

“Let's talk when I get there.”

“
Avoidance
is a four-letter word.”

“You can teach me some new ones when I get there.” He ends the call.

I grimace, setting the phone in my lap.
I might not have the answers you want.
That's already not the answer I want, and I now know why Kayden didn't directly respond when I asked him what Nathan had told him. Nathan didn't give him the answer he wanted, either. And suddenly I wonder if he's told Kayden that I'm unstable or unreliable. He might have even told him not to trust me.

Frustrated that I'm doing this to myself, I shove my phone back into my purse and zip it up. Standing, I slip the strap over my head and chest, keeping my phone and Charlie close at hand. My gaze travels down the closet, seeing the rows of Kayden's clothes on one side, my limited wardrobe on the other.

This place, this man, is home to me now. I'm not letting it go. I need the trigger I was after when I came in here a short while ago, and my attention lands on the pink ballet slippers sitting on a wall of shelves. An image of my mother, my first dance instructor, with a huge smile on her face. I smile, too, but abruptly the feelings and the moment in time shift. Now there is pain, loss, heartbreak. Now my mother is lying in a hospital bed, and by her side is some man I do not like. She is close to death, and I don't want to live this heartbreak again. I most definitely don't want to know the man standing by her bedside, but I have to face those things. I have to face all things.

Marching forward, I pick up the slippers, steeling myself for the pain to follow and shutting my eyes. And I wait. And wait, and I will something to come to me, but I have nothing. Frustrated, I remember my lunch with Giada, and set the slippers down. Dancing for my memories will have to wait. And I wonder, not for the first time, what can be so horrific that I refuse to remember it? I have to talk to Nathan about controlled triggers. There has to be a way to drive my progress.