Demand (8 page)

“That's for you to decide.”

“That isn't the answer I want.”

His jaw sets hard. “If you're expecting an answer you'll want, you'd better pick up that gun.”

We stare at each other, a push and pull between us that has nothing to do with fear or intimidation, and everything to do with a bond we both know is being tested. “I know what you're doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“The same thing you did outside that church, when you helped me hold the gun to your chest.”

“Which is what?”

“Offering me the façade of control.”

“You holding a loaded gun on me in no way equals a façade.”

“I know you now,” I counter. “You don't give up control, even when you say you are.”

He rests his hands on the counter, one turned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the hawk inked on his wrist, its wings spread, the mark of a man whose rules of many must dictate his actions. “There are two sides to this coin,” he says, his words drawing my attention, his pale blue eyes piercing mine. “The me with you, and the me with everyone else.”

“We barely knew each other at the church.”

“I'd already decided you were mine. You just didn't know it yet.”

I glower at him, frustratingly aroused and angry. “I know you haven't lived in America in a long time, but that's a very caveman-like, antifeminist statement to make.”

“I wasn't aware you were a feminist.”

“Yes, well, I wasn't either specifically, but my skill with a gun and my attitude say I am.”

“Then let me say this to this new feminist side of you. You own me in ways I do not want to be owned, and should not be owned as The Hawk of The Underground. That is power. That is control, whether you want it or understand it. That is what you do to me.”

Now he's the one who sounds angry, as if he doesn't quite comprehend how this has happened, either—how I have control he doesn't want to cede. And once again, without even trying, he has taken control, and given it, in a way that balances out the overwhelming alpha part of him. “Kayden—”

“Pick up the gun. Hear me out. And then decide what to do with it.”

“I don't want the gun,” I say, pushing off the island and going around it to the coffeepot on the counter behind him. I'm aware of him right behind me, and I inhale, his spicy scent mingling with the richness of coffee, wreaking havoc on my senses, and it's all I can do to open the cabinet and grab a mug.

Kayden steps to my side, and I turn and offer him a cup. He closes his hand around mine instead, and heat rushes up my arm and into my chest. “Ella,” he says softly, and my name on his lips slides under my skin and nestles deep in my soul. And Lord help me, I don't know if I am even capable of being objective with this man.

He inhales, that perfect chest expanding a moment before he takes the cup and sets it on the counter. I grab another and set it down beside it, and he fills both with coffee. Part of me thinks that this domestic act should downplay my worries and calm my nerves. It doesn't even come close, but I think it should, and I stick to this strategy.
Try something normal. Do something normal.

Kayden sets the pot on the warmer while I tear open several packages of sweetener, my stupid hand trembling with the adrenaline I'm battling, and I drop one of the packages in the cup. Frustrated at my lack of control, I hold up my hands. “What are we doing? I don't want coffee. You don't want coffee. We're just going through the motions.”

“Come on,” he says, lacing our fingers together in that intimate, familiar way and leading me to the table. Rather than putting it between us, he pulls two chairs out to face each other, each of us claiming one. “First,” he says, resting his hands on his knees. “I want you to know that I haven't lied to you about anything. I didn't know you until I found you in the alleyway. I don't know who you are now. And I had no idea you were connected to the necklace until you remembered it.”

“So you were looking for the necklace before you found me,” I say, confirming what seems obvious.

“I was, but not for hire. This isn't a treasure hunt, and it has nothing to do with money. At least not for me.”

“What does that mean?”

“That necklace is a century old, and property of the British government. It disappeared fifty years ago. It's worth a large enough fortune to have the Italian and French mafia looking for it, and now, it appears, Raul and the cartel, as well. In any of their hands it's dangerous, but considering Niccolo is twice as powerful as the others, in his it's downright lethal.”

“And you're trying to get to it first.”

“I'm
going
to get to it first and return it to the British government, where I know it won't be used to profit Niccolo or anyone else.”

“Because it's stolen?

“Because it represents the kind of power we can't allow someone like Niccolo, or anyone in his class of pursuers, to have.”

“When you say fortune, how much money are we talking?”

“It's valued at a hundred and fifty million euros, but there's a private collector willing to pay double that.”

“Oh my
God.
I didn't even know a necklace could be worth that much money.”

“There's some history to this one, including the trail of ownership.”

“And it was stolen from the British government?”

“Fifty years ago. And when I say stolen, I mean, it vanished. There were occasional rumors of its reappearance, each time starting a frenzied search. Interestingly, considering your involvement, none of those rumors placed it in the United States.”

“But it must have been, if I was used to transport it to Europe.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But I'm not convinced you weren't wearing a decoy, meant to draw attention away from the real necklace.”

“Why would you think it was a decoy, if I've obviously ended up on Niccolo's radar?”

“Because from what I know of the original's construction, there would be no place to slip a note inside. And you found one.”

“Could the note give the location of the real necklace?”

“More likely, it was about a payoff for transporting the decoy. But whoever's behind that transaction knows where the real necklace is located.”

“In other words, I really need to remember where that necklace is.”

“Not necessarily,” he says. “If the necklace was a decoy, as I suspect, then the important piece of the puzzle is what was on that note.”

“Which wasn't in English, so my memory won't help us. I'd have to find it, and/or the decoy, to be of any help.” I tilt my head to study him. “So I'm the key to what you're trying to achieve. Why didn't you just tell me this, Kayden?”

He leans forward, his hands settling intimately just behind my knees. “I fully intended to tell you, but I wasn't ready yet.”

“What exactly would have made you ready?”

“Some way to prove to you that I wasn't using you to gain the necklace. I selfishly wasn't ready for that divide. Which backfired, and delivered us to that shower, with a gun between us.”

“It could have been worse,” I say with a halfhearted laugh. “I could have shot you.”

“Your distrust is the only bullet I care about dodging right now.” He sits up again, his hands settling back on his knees. “And that's exactly why I need you to think about that alleyway.”

“I have been. I don't remember it.”

“I'm not talking about what happened once you were there. I'm talking about what brought us both to that place.”

“Oh,” I say flatly, hating where this is going. “The necklace.”

“Yes. The necklace and—”

“Niccolo,” I supply, his name ice and fire, and not in good ways. “I am so confused right now. If he's the man from my flashbacks, I wanted him dead. The last thing I would do is meet him to hand him a necklace that makes him more powerful.”

“Unless you didn't know it was him.”

“Or he's not the man from my flashbacks at all, and I'm more deeply involved with Niccolo than I think.” I swallow hard and stand, putting the chair between us. “Is this the real reason you didn't tell me about this?” I demand, my fingers closing around the wooden back. “Do you think I'm part of that man's entourage? Were you trying to prove that before you revealed everything else?”

I blink, and he's beside me. “Don't create nightmares that don't exist. You were running from Niccolo's men when I found you.”

“I can think of no good reason why I was there to meet him, Kayden. Not one.”

“Then let me help you with three. Blackmail, survival, and revenge.”

“You think he was blackmailing me?”

“Blackmail is what he does. He threatens people, those they love, or the general public, to get what he wants. And if he doesn't, he kills them.” His lips thin. “I've long believed that he killed Elizabeth and Kevin.”

“I thought you had no idea who killed them?”

“I have reason to believe Kevin had contact with Niccolo frequently, leading up to the murders. Does that mean he did it? No. Do I believe he did it? Yes. The point is, he will do whatever's necessary to get what he wants.”

“And he wants the necklace.”

“Or you.” His fingers gently tangle in my hair, lifting my mouth to his. “And he can't have you.” He lowers his mouth to kiss me, but I firmly press my hand on his chest.

“No. Stop. You can't kiss me. We can't do this.”

“Oh, I assure you we can,” he says, leaning in again.

“No. No, Kayden.” I push back and his hands catch my waist before I can escape. “Don't you see?” I demand. “I am now irrefutably connected to the man who killed the people you loved most in this world. And we don't know why. We don't know my motivation, or his leverage over me. You don't know and I'm in your bed and your home.”

“Our bed.
Our hom
e
,
now.”

“I want it to be, but we have to be realistic. We don't know who I really am. We need to talk to Nathan. Could I wake up one day and be changed? A different person? I don't think I can; I feel like this is me. I do. I
feel
like this is me.”

“Easy, sweetheart. I did talk to Nathan, long before I found out about your connection to the necklace.”

“And—”

“And it's time to go to bed.” He scoops me up and starts walking.

“Damn it, Kayden, I want to talk about this!”

“I talk better naked, and so do you.”

“We don't talk better naked.”

“We do a lot of things better naked.”

“I'm trying to protect you.”

“Protect me naked,” he says.

“This isn't funny,” I object.

“I don't remember laughing.”

“We have to talk about this.”

“We will.” He enters the bedroom and kicks the door shut. “Eventually.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he sets me down beside the bed and starts undressing me. And I don't know how I go from being desperate to talk this out, to being desperate to be naked with him, but it happens. Suddenly, I'm tugging on his clothes and he's tugging on mine, and I end up on my back, his thick erection between my thighs, the delicious weight of him on top of me.

“What if we're enemies?”

“If we're enemies, sweetheart, you're killing me softly, and I like it.”

“Kayden—”

“We choose what we are, Ella.
We
choose. No one else.” He reaches under me and cups my ass. “In the meantime, just in case we suddenly decide we hate each other, we should take precautions and use my no-fail strategy.”

I instantly know what he's talking about. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“Exactly,” he concurs. “That's our plan. To stay close. Real damn close.” His cock is nuzzling my sex, and then pressing into me, stretching me, sinking to the deepest part of me, before he says, “How do you like my plan so far?” He doesn't give me time to reply, kissing me with one deep, possessive stroke of his tongue, followed by another, and he doesn't taste like a man with doubt. He doesn't taste like a man who's sleeping with his enemy. He tastes like a starving man who wants more of me, who takes more of me, and in a blink we're in a frenzied rush of hot, possessive passion—touching each other, kissing each other,
fucking
each other every way we can, all of which comes with his silent promise that, right or wrong, he is nowhere near done with me, nor me with him.

But a long time later, I lie in bed with Kayden wrapped around me from behind, awake when he's asleep. Staring at the glow of the fireplace with one thought. Kayden didn't tell me what Nathan said about my amnesia—and nothing Kayden does is unintentional. That tells me I won't like what Nathan said to him. It tells me we are far more fragile than the passion we share says we are.

As if on cue, Kayden pulls me a little closer, and I press into him, gripping his arm where it drapes my upper body, and once again, we are both holding each other a little too close and too hard, and to me that reason is clear. The secrets of that dark alleyway have been haunting us since the moment I opened my eyes and called him beautiful.