Absolution (The Protectors, Book 1) (6 page)

Jonas turned to face me, the small plastic tray of ice clenched to his chest like some kind of barrier.

“I’m going to be heading out in a bit,” I said as I moved towards the door. I gave him another quick look and saw that he hadn’t moved at all. “If you’re up for it, I was thinking we could go check out some lighting options tomorrow.”

“Um, yeah, that would be great.”

I nodded and reached for the door.

“Mace?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Jonas whispered and I knew he wasn’t talking about the trip to the lighting store.

I was too confused by my own reaction to do anything but give him a brief nod. I no longer felt the pain in my hand as I walked down the stairs to the main floor. I didn’t feel anything except an uneasy rolling in my belly as I started to understand what I’d almost done. Kissing Jonas would have been the epitome of stupid. I knew that but I still wanted to turn around and go back upstairs and wrap myself around him until my obsessive need for him was satisfied.

It took me only a few minutes to clean up for the day and I used the bathroom at the back of the studio to try and get as much of the drywall plaster off my hands as I could. By the time I reached the studio again, I knew I was no longer alone. And I could tell the instant the visitor sensed my presence because his whole being drew up tight.

Cole turned from where he’d been examining the one remaining open wall that I still needed to finish. His gaze settled on me and I saw the same guarded look in his eyes that I’d seen yesterday.

“Is he here?” Cole asked, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse.

“No.” The lie fell easily from my lips because I still had the sound of Jonas’s mournful cries in my head and felt the dampness of his tears against my fingers.

Cole’s jaw hardened and I knew he didn’t believe me. It made me wonder if he was just really good at reading people, or if my growing attachment to Jonas was allowing my confused emotions to bleed into my voice or facial expressions. I had no doubt that he was military – I’d known that the instant I’d seen him yesterday because it was written into the manner in which he held himself, alert, at the ready, always aware. I also hadn’t missed the way he’d kept his attention on me even as he’d spoken to Jonas – like he’d known I was the greater threat. He’d been right.

“Any idea when he’ll be back?” Cole asked.

“Not a clue,” I answered, my body tightening in anticipation as Cole’s tone made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. I was between him and the doorway that led up to Jonas’s apartment and a strange thrill went through me at the thought of this man trying to get past me. I chalked it up to wanting to pick a fight with someone who matched me both in size and skill. Maybe if I pounded on Cole for a while, I’d be able to work out every single one of my frustrations that had been building from the moment I’d spied Jonas through that small bathroom window.

But as Cole’s eyes stroked over my body, I nearly cursed out loud at my dick’s untimely response. It wasn’t that the good looking, clean cut soldier was looking at me with open desire like Jonas had that first day in his apartment – it was the flash of confusion I saw in his eyes that had me swallowing hard. Apparently I wasn’t the only one wanting to work out my frustrations in a physical way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so sure a fight was what I was looking for anymore.

“Mace, are you still here?” I heard just a second before footsteps sounded on the stairs behind me and Jonas appeared, an envelope in his hand. “I have your check-”

Jonas’s words dropped off suddenly as his eyes fell on Cole. “Hi,” he finally said, his voice quiet and unsure. He cast me a quick glance as he handed me the envelope and then he was folding his arms around himself as he took a few steps towards Cole. He clearly hadn’t sensed the tension he’d walked in on.

Cole’s eyes shifted from me to Jonas and I felt an unreasonable surge of jealousy. Only problem was, I wasn’t sure which man I was actually jealous of.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said, his cool demeanor shifting into something more vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have left like that yesterday,” he said to Jonas. Cole hadn’t moved at all but Jonas had, because now only a couple of feet separated the men.

Jonas shook his head. “You don’t owe me any explanations and you certainly don’t owe me an apology.”

Cole’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I thought I’d prepared myself for the stuff you were going to tell me since I’d already read the details in the police report but…”

“I made it real,” Jonas supplied.

Cole nodded and sucked in a deep breath. To my surprise, I actually felt like I was intruding on the moment between the two men though neither had asked me to leave. And worse, I really didn’t like the sudden vulnerability in Cole’s stance. The cool, collected soldier was gone and what was left was…a man.

“I was hoping you might come to the funeral,” Cole said after several long moments of heavy silence. “It’s on Tuesday.” He finally raised his head to look at Jonas and I was stunned to see tears swimming in his eyes. “Most of her friends have moved on-”

Before he could even finish getting the words out, Jonas closed what little distance there was between them and wrapped his arms around Cole’s neck. Cole seemed caught off guard by the move but then his hands came up to return the embrace. While it was an “all in” hug for Jonas, Cole seemed uncomfortable at first but then something shifted and I glimpsed a shroud of pain come over his face that was so intense that I actually took a step forward before I realized what I was doing. Thankfully, Cole didn’t seem to notice, because he’d tightened his hold on Jonas and buried his face against Jonas’s neck.

The sight of the two of them together clinging to each other did something strange to me and I actually had to retreat to the bathroom to collect myself. Because in that moment I’d felt like an interloper. Not just because I was intruding on such an intimate moment but because I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to share in what they were feeling and draw it from them. I wanted them to know that I understood loss. I understood it in my bones.

“Mace?”

At the knock on the door, I turned off the water that I’d been splashing on my face in an effort to settle my turbulent thoughts. Jonas was waiting for me on the other side of the door when I opened it.

“Is nine ‘o clock tomorrow okay?” Jonas asked.

I stepped out of the bathroom and glanced around the now empty studio. Jonas looked shaky, but he was dry-eyed so that was something. I wondered how Cole was doing and then cursed myself for the ridiculous thought.

“What?” I asked.

“Is nine a good time for us to go check out the lights?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said distractedly and then stepped past Jonas to grab my coffee thermos. “See you tomorrow,” I said over my shoulder as I hurried out of there.

“Mace!”

I cringed at the sound of Jonas’s voice behind me but forced myself to stop and turn.

“You forgot your check,” he said, the envelope clenched between his fingers. “You okay?” he asked as he handed it to me.

“All good,” I answered as I took the envelope, careful not to touch him since I didn’t trust myself at the moment not to drag him into my arms. It had been years since I’d been this off-balance and I could feel the crushing need to lose myself come over me. In the past I’d had the luxury of finding a warm body or a bottomless bottle of scotch or both to forget who I was, but since neither of those things were an option, I needed to get the hell out of there.

“Night,” I said without making eye contact with Jonas. I went through the motions of parking the van, but as I began walking towards my temporary apartment, I found myself stopping at a small, shabby liquor store. The feel of the paper wrapped bottle felt comforting in my hand as I climbed the stairs to the rat trap I was staying in but I knew that I wouldn’t be drinking even a drop of it. The first thing I’d do after unlocking the door was dump every drop of the pretty amber colored liquid down the kitchen drain. I couldn’t explain why the ritual worked for me, it just did.

That was the plan anyway. But as soon as the door swung open, I knew I wasn’t alone. It took just seconds to pull my gun from my ankle holster since my other one was tucked away in my toolbox. I began methodically clearing each room as I moved towards the back of the small apartment but once I reached the bathroom, I already suspected who my unwanted guest was. But when I stepped into the small room, I froze at the sight of the man holding my rifle, the barrel pointed in the same direction I’d been pointing it for the better part of a month. The scope that I had removed the day before was once again affixed to the gun. I glanced out the window and saw that Jonas was in his spot by the window, his paintbrush in hand, a blank canvas in front of him. At any other time, I would have been pleased to see him back to doing what he normally did, but in that moment all I felt was fear since I knew what an easy target he was. And Ronan Grisham wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger…nor would he miss.

I actually felt my hand tightening on my gun as my options fired through my brain. Would I really be willing to take the life of the man who’d saved mine?

“He is beautiful,” I heard Ronan murmur as he kept his eye on the scope. Tension rolled through me as I locked my eyes on his finger which was resting lightly on the trigger. He held there for several long seconds before he finally lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder at me. His eyes settled on my gun which I still had resting by my leg and I had no doubt that he knew exactly what I’d been contemplating. I didn’t relax even a little bit as he unfolded his big body and stood. Ronan was one of the most lethal men I knew and also one of the most unreadable so I didn’t move or even breathe as he closed the distance between us. It wasn’t until he handed the rifle to me that I finally took a breath.

“You should have kissed him when you had the chance,” Ronan said as he moved past me.

I flinched at the realization that he’d been watching me and Jonas when I’d gone to get ice for my hand. It took me several long seconds to get myself under control and follow him. I found him in the kitchen studying the bottle of liquor I’d left on the counter as I’d made my sweep of the apartment. It was foolish considering what had just transpired between us but him seeing the bottle of liquor actually made me feel ashamed.

Everything about Ronan was dark and dangerous. At 6’5’, he matched me in height and build but I knew from experience that he could take me in any fight. He was the only man I’d ever truly feared and not just because he could best me physically. He knew all of my weaknesses, and he knew that the things he’d done for me had bought and paid for my absolute, unquestioning loyalty…until now.

Ronan’s gray eyes finally shifted to me but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled a business-sized envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. I leaned the rifle against the counter, making sure it was out of Ronan’s reach, and then tucked the revolver in the waistband of my pants.

“You wanted to know his connection to the Prescotts.”

I didn’t miss the fact that Ronan didn’t use Jonas’s name. There were several pages in the envelope but I knew within seconds of reading the first few lines what I was looking at. It was an email transcript between Jonas and Devlin Prescott.

I need you, Jonas. Our place. Tomorrow.

I can’t wait to feel you inside me again Devlin-

Disgust rolled through me as I flipped to the next email which was more of the same. The last page was a list of dates and the name of an expensive hotel in Manhattan. The dates lined up with the dates on the emails.

“How long has it been going on?” I asked.

“Benny found emails going back almost eight years…long before Prescott met his wife.”

Which would have made Jonas a teenager when the affair started. I was right when I’d guessed he’d been a victim who’d turned into an abuser himself.

“If you’re too close to this-”

“No,” I said sharply. “It’s done.” Even as I said the words, I wanted to call them back. But I couldn’t.

Because I’d finally run out of reasons not to finish what I’d started.

Jonas

I could feel Mace’s eyes on me as I examined the different lights as we walked through the small store. Mace had already been waiting in his van when I’d left the gallery a few minutes before nine, but when I’d climbed into the passenger seat, I’d known instantly that we were back to where we’d been when we first met because Mace had only grunted a greeting and I’d seen a flash of something dark go through his gaze. It wasn’t the same outright hatred I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d seen on that first day when he’d come to interview for the job, but it was still unnerving. Especially after what had almost happened in my apartment yesterday.

Since Cole’s appearance in my gallery two days ago, I’d been on a roller coaster of emotions. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought of Carrie in the years since she’d died, because I had…all the time. But the loss was something I’d had to experience by myself since Casey hadn’t known Carrie personally. And although I’d given some thought to Carrie’s family over the years, I’d automatically assumed that her relationship with them was similar to the one I’d had with my parents or, at worst, it was similar to the abusive one Casey had had with her mother and stepfather. So to have Cole show up like he had had thrown me for a loop because I’d seen in his eyes how much he’d loved her.

From the moment I’d started talking about Carrie, every detail of that terrible night had come back to me. I could still hear Carrie’s soft gasps as she struggled to breathe, Mateo’s knife plunging into her body over and over. The stench of blood had flooded my senses and I could still feel the hot stickiness of it as it coated my skin and dripped down the back of my throat. But I’d left all those details out as I told Cole what he wanted to hear. When I’d gotten to the part about Casey saving my life but that we’d been too late to help Carrie, I’d heard the words Cole hadn’t said out loud.

Why you and not her?

It was a question I had asked myself in the years that followed, especially as the stain of my former life began to recede. It was that question that had tormented me as I’d watched Cole walk out of that coffee shop. I’d listened to its echoing taunts as I’d hurried back to the studio and ducked past Mace so I could hide out in my apartment. I’d barely managed to get the door locked before I’d let go. And then it all came back to me with a vengeance. Time ceased to exist, there was no need for food or water, and every time I’d managed to take a painful breath between the sobs that had ripped me open, I’d remembered the words Carrie said to me just before I’d walked into the bathroom to get her things.

We’re going home, Jonas.

We.

In all the years that I’d mourned Carrie, I’d been mourning my loss as well because she’d given me something I hadn’t had since I myself had stepped off the bus at the busy Chicago bus station. Only there’d been no one there to warn me about the danger that was waiting for me.

“How about these?” I said as I tried to shake myself from the past.

Mace’s fingers reached past mine to check the label on the lighting fixture. “I can make that work,” he said.

My gaze caught on his fingers and when I glanced up at him, I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. Even now the idea of Mace’s lips finding mine both thrilled and terrified me. And that only confused me even more because sex wasn’t something that I’d wanted or needed in my life again. I couldn’t deny my attraction to Mace but I couldn’t understand my need to act on it, considering how fucked up things had gotten with the only man I’d dated after my life on the streets. And my attraction to Victor hadn’t been anything like what it was with Mace.

My eyes got stuck on Mace’s fingers as he began working the fixture loose from the display it was hanging on.

“I think six of these should do it,” he said. His words finally knocked me loose from my trance and I nodded.

We didn’t speak again until we reached the gallery and unlike the other days, I had no desire to linger and see if Mace needed any help. The studio was coming along nicely and I expected it would be done in a week at the most. Seven days. I just needed to get through seven more days of wanting Mace but not wanting to want him.

I helped Mace dump everything on the wooden table in the middle of the room and then headed for the stairs leading to my apartment.

“Jonas.”

I flinched at the sound of my name on his lips. I’d like to say I tensed up but I couldn’t because that was the way my body always was around this man. I forced myself to turn and watched as Mace strode towards me.

“Your receipt,” he said once he reached me.

I stared at the piece of paper in his hand and then looked up at him. “I…”

I what? What the hell did I want to say?

I wish your phone hadn’t rung yesterday.

I wish I hadn’t pulled away.

I wish you’d try again.

“I hope your hand’s better,” I murmured before I grabbed the receipt. But as I turned to go, he gently grabbed my wrist to hold me in place.

“It would complicate things, Jonas,” he said softly.

Even as Mace spoke, he was pulling me closer and I was happy to go because the heat coming off his body was drawing me in. I didn’t bother to ask what he meant because in that moment, I wasn’t interested in playing games with him. “For you or for me?”

But Mace didn’t answer me. Our bodies were just inches apart and he was still holding onto my wrist. I felt his thumb brush over the skin there and I felt the exact moment he realized what he was feeling because his thumb stilled. I dropped my eyes to my hand as he turned it over and then his finger started moving again as it explored the raised scar on my wrist. We could have been standing there like that for minutes or hours before he finally spoke.

“For us both,” he finally said.

I nodded as I tugged my hand free. I didn’t bother saying anything as I turned to go upstairs because it wasn’t the first time the scars of my past had ended something before it had begun. I doubted it would be the last time either.

* * *

Tuesday came much faster than I wanted it to. I hadn’t heard from Cole in the days since he’d shown up at my studio to ask me to come to the funeral, except for a text giving me the address for the cemetery. I hadn’t expected to see Cole after the coffee shop, but when I’d walked downstairs to give Mace his check for the week and saw Cole standing there, his big body stiff and unyielding but his eyes filled with agony, I’d needed to tell him he wasn’t alone. But the words had gotten stuck in my throat because they didn’t seem like enough. So I’d hugged him. And then I’d regretted it because as soon as I’d touched him, his entire body seemed to lock up and I’d been sure he was going to shove me away. But he hadn’t. Not even a little bit.

The feel of Cole’s arms around me had been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I’d felt like maybe, just maybe, it was Cole’s way of saying he forgave me. I’d known it was a stretch to read so much into one touch, but I’d needed something to ease the torment of knowing the pain I’d inflicted upon him. The curse came when I’d started to want more. I’d wanted the mouth that was resting against the spot where my shoulder met my neck to skim over the skin there. I’d wanted the fingers that were pressed against my back to draw me closer. I’d wanted to know that there was a place for me in his arms.

Complete and utter stupidity.

I wasn’t sure when I’d become so needy. Maybe it was something about finally being home. Maybe it was seeing the peace on Casey’s face in those quiet moments when we’d be having dinner and she’d rest her hands on her swollen belly and stare at the man and the two children who’d given her life meaning…who’d helped her find the peace in her life she’d so desperately craved. I’d accepted those were things I probably wouldn’t have, but accepting didn’t mean the wanting went away.

I shook off my maudlin thoughts as I hurried out of the gallery. Mace was just getting out of his van when I stepped out onto the sidewalk so I left the gallery unlocked. The air was awkward between us so I merely nodded to him and said, “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.” I didn’t wait to see what his response would be because I was simply too embarrassed to spend any extended amount of time in his company. I’d had all weekend to try to get past the humiliation of knowing Mace was likely aware what had caused the scar on my wrist…that and the naked neediness he probably could see in my eyes every time I looked at him. By the time Monday rolled around, I hadn’t even bothered leaving my apartment. In fact, I hadn’t even left my bed.

I’d been lucky to find a parking spot in front of the gallery a few days earlier when I’d gotten back from having dinner with Casey and Devlin at their house in the Hamptons, but that was as far as my luck held out, because as soon as I turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtered for a moment but didn’t turn over. A few more turns just produced the same results.

“No, no, no,” I muttered as I tried the key once more, jamming it forward as much as I could as if that would somehow magically fix the car.

A tap on my window had me turning to see Mace standing there and I barely resisted the urge to drop my head on the steering wheel.

“Pop the hood, I’ll take a look,” Mace said through the window.

Several minutes of him telling me to try the engine again passed and then he was slamming the hood shut. I bit back a curse and climbed out of the car.

“Could be a couple things…the starter, a bad fuse…” Mace said.

I nodded. “Thanks for trying,” I mumbled as I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get on the road now, I’d be late but a cab to New Haven was going to cost a fortune.

“You need a lift somewhere?” I heard Mace ask.

“Um, no, I’ll call a cab,” I said idly as I began scanning the street.

“The funeral’s today, isn’t it?”

I looked at Mace in surprise.

“Your friend…”

“Cole,” I supplied.

“I heard Cole mention it when he stopped by last week.” Mace tossed the towel he’d been using to wipe the grease from his hands into the back of his van. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

“No,” I quickly said. “It’s in New Haven,” I added thinking that the idea of driving me to Connecticut would put a quick end to the discussion. The bottom line was that I was just too raw to deal with the confusing emotions this man stirred in me and spending a couple of hours cooped up in his van seemed like a supremely bad idea.

“It’s no problem,” Mace added as he closed the back doors on the van.

I must have hesitated because Mace came up to me and softly said, “Your friend needs you, Jonas.”

Everything about the statement was wrong. Cole wasn’t my friend and he didn’t need me. But it wasn’t just the words that were messing with me. It was the intimate way Mace said it to me and the way his fingers gently brushed over my bicep as if trying to urge me forward. Maybe if he hadn’t said my name the way he did…like we were more to each other than employer and employee, I would have been able to resist.

We didn’t speak until we’d left the city limits. And even then, Mace’s voice caught me off guard when he asked, “Did you guys go to school together or something?”

“What?” I asked, my body feeling numb as we drew closer and closer to our destination.

“Cole’s sister. She’s the one who passed, right?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “No, we didn’t go to school together. We met a long time ago,” I hedged, not wanting to have to try to explain how Carrie and I had met. The idea of having Mace know the things I’d done to survive made me sick. It was bad enough that Cole knew the truth about me.

“He mentioned a police report…” Mace probed

“Mace,” I whispered, my throat feeling tight.

“Yeah.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I asked, my eyes glued to the traffic flying past us on the Interstate.

“Sure,” he said. “Why the kids?”

“What?”

“The art studio you’re building. Wouldn’t most artists be interested in displaying their own work?”

“I’ve been pretty lucky,” I said on a sigh, grateful that this was a topic I could handle.

“How so?” Mace interjected before I could even continue on my own.

“While I was in school, I met someone who took a liking to my work. She bought several of my pieces and started spreading the word about me to her friends. She even helped set me up with an agent when I got back to the States.”

“States? You went to school somewhere else?”

“I got a scholarship to an art school in Paris. I studied there for a couple of years and then stayed for a couple of more so I could immerse myself in the culture. But I missed home so I came back a couple months ago. I had enough saved up from the sale of my paintings to lease the studio and fix it up.”

“Why do it for kids though?”

“Because I think about what art gave me when I was younger and I want other kids to have that.”

“What did it give you?”

“A voice,” I said without hesitation. “Even when there wasn’t someone around to hear.” I risked a glance at Mace and was surprised to see him watching me. It was just for a moment of course, since he had to stay focused on the road but I liked what I saw. Like he got what I was trying to say. Probably just more fanciful wishing on my part. I turned my attention back to the passing scenery. “Even if all they get out of it is seeing their art on display, think how they’ll feel for that minute or hour or day.”