Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) (8 page)

Her stomach wrenched. ‘What crates?’

His eyes narrowed a little as he searched her gaze. ‘Something tells me you know exactly what crates.’

‘Is
that
why you’re here?’

‘That was a big delivery, Jessie.’

‘And one I know nothing about. So do yourself a favour: if you want to set yourself on some suicide mission, fine, but
please
, get away from here long enough for what’s in your system to wear off. You’ll be clear by tomorrow. After that, I don’t care what you do. You owe me that much.’

She stepped back into the bathroom, annoyed that her hands trembled as she reached for her contacts. Her eyes had already turned a dark blue to reflect her frustration – a change he had to have detected. She glanced over her shoulder to see he was stood in the doorway, his arms folded as he watched her. He was churning something in his mouth again.

‘Last night was a one-off. I’m not in the habit of getting stabbed.’

She exhaled tersely. ‘Even if you do avoid any further scrapes in the next few hours,’ she said, replacing the first of her contacts, ‘Tatum’s going to leave you like a pincushion by the time she’s finished with you.’ She replaced her second lens. ‘She’s no idiot. She’s going to know when you heal by nightfall.’ She stepped back over to the door. ‘And then you’re dead. What part of that do you not get?’

He braced his arm across the doorway, blocking her exit. ‘If it makes you feel better, I haven’t slept with her yet. I’ve been with enough women like her to know what it entails.’ He closed in on her so she was backed up against the doorframe. ‘Besides, we both know she’s not the one I’m interested in. I thought me being in here, instead of in there,’ he said, glancing at the partition wall, ‘made that clear enough.’

It was there again – that look in his eyes. The same look in his eyes before he’d kissed her in the lock-up. The same look in his eyes as he’d leaned against the doorway in the lounge. The look that made her feel like she was the only one he could see.

And it was intoxicating.

Too intoxicating.

The tiny hairs on her arms prickled. ‘Unless you want your balls replacing your Adam’s apple, I suggest you back off.’

His eyes glinted even more darkly. ‘I’m a sucker for the playing-hard-to-get game.’

‘And those numbers aren’t to my taste,’ she said, her glare not flinching from his. ‘Fuck who you want, just don’t fuck with me. And do it as far away from here as possible.’

‘Hard words from such a delicate mouth.’

‘There is nothing delicate about me.’

‘No? Then explain to me why you’re in fear of getting caught when you could take Pummel out as easily as you did those cons who attacked me?’

Jessie glanced at the partition wall before looking back into his eyes. She pressed her hand onto his hip, the first time she’d touched him since the night she’d healed him – when just the feel of his smooth, taut, warm skin beneath her hand had compelled her to linger; when the hard curves of his virile body had distracted her longer than they should have. The connection was instant again, the feeling of his masculinity beneath her palm captivating her for a moment, the intensity of it forcing her to break from his gaze as she finally pushed him away.

To her surprise, he let her slip past him, still void of any sign of aggression. Instead she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her as she passed the foot of the bed to make her way over to the bedside table.

Her mind was made up. Despite her gut instincts, she had no choice but to act. She took the key out of the drawer before stepping over to him again.

‘Meet me in the lock-up,’ she whispered as she handed it to him. ‘You want to talk, we’ll talk there. We’ve pushed our luck enough up here.’

He looked at the key, met her gaze again. Finally, he reached out and accepted it from her.

Her heart hit stasis as it simultaneously leapt and sank.

But he’d given her no choice.

She took a step back and headed over to the door. Thankfully he’d worked out what she was doing and followed behind her without another word.

With bare feet silent on the floorboards, Jessie led the way back down the dog-legged stairs, checking that the first landing was vacant before summoning Eden on.

She descended the stairs, stopped midway to see that the lounge door was closed before hovering at the newel post to check the seemingly vacant kitchen. Another quick glance left assured her that the coast was clear from beyond the arch.

She summoned Eden on again, his footsteps, despite the weight of his boots, impressively light. He swept past her, the brush of his body no doubt intentionally close.

When the lounge door opened the same time as Eden turned to face her, her heart almost burst from her chest.

Pummel’s cold eyes locked first on hers, before narrowing on Eden.

Her mouth turned dry, her legs leaden. She held her breath, her brain refusing to kick in.

Eden folded his arms as he turned his attention on Pummel. ‘You’d think I’d just asked her where you stored your jewels, not if it’s okay if I help myself to beers,’ Eden said to him, as calmly as if he’d just asked her for directions. ‘Can she not speak?’

Pummel’s eyes narrowed a fraction more, glinting with inevitable suspicion. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, cocking his head towards the kitchen.

Eden promptly continued on past Pummel with barely a second glance, without even a slight dent in his composure.

She didn’t know if she should feel impressed or unnerved.

She knew she needed an excuse too. An excuse Pummel wouldn’t question. If Eden could cover their tracks, so could she. She took the last step back down the stairs, easing past Pummel. She braced herself, expecting him to grab her. But he didn’t. When she glanced over her shoulder, he wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze still fixed on Eden heading into the kitchen.

Heat flushed her face and pumped through her veins with equal vigour, an uncharacteristic light coating of perspiration gathering at the nape of her neck. She had messed up. She had messed up big time.

She hovered at the threshold to the lounge as Pummel turned to follow Eden. She picked at imaginary fluff on her sweater, something that would hardly capture the attention of the others in the room as she strained to listen to what was going on in the kitchen, everything teetering on the precipice of disaster.

E
den opened the fridge door
, only too aware that Pummel had chosen to follow him. It was hardly a surprise. It was also a stark reminder of how risky his prolonged discussion with Jessie had been. It had been worth it though to have her agree to meet with him again, to find out just a little bit more – not least to see those colour-changing eyes like none he had seen before, and to have found the vial he still held contained in his pocket.

He took two cold beers from the fridge, prizing them open with the bottle opener he cast aside before turning to face Pummel’s pensive gaze.

A pensive gaze that was worsened by the fact Pummel was leaning casually back against the kitchen countertop, his arms braced. ‘I thought you were with Tatum.’

He met Pummel squarely in the eyes. ‘I was.’ Eden held up his beers with a grin that invited Pummel in on his intentions. ‘Only she’s yet to grasp that wine is no substitute for a cold beer.’

‘I thought I’d made myself clear there was to be no talking to Jessie.’

‘I take it you mean the girl out there? Hey, I assumed you meant off limits as in no fucking around. I didn’t realise you literally meant no talking. No wonder it was like trying to get blood out of a stone.’

‘No talking means no talking. I need to be sure you understand that.’

‘I do now,’ Eden said, not allowing his gaze to waver for one moment.

‘Good. Because once you’re finished with Tatum, I have a task for you.’ He pulled himself away from the counter to hand him a piece of paper. ‘The supplies you brought last night earned you one night here. If you want to stay another, there’s a few things I want – by dusk tomorrow.’

Eden raked his gaze over the list. The blood in his veins thickened. He looked back at Pummel. ‘You do know how hard some of these are to get hold of, right?’

‘You seemed to think you were the man for the job. Are you going back on that?’

‘Not if you tell me you understand as much as I do that this list is worth more than just one more night. This has got to be a week at least.’

Though attempting a placating smile, the look in Pummel’s eyes contradicted it. He handed him a wad of money. ‘You get me the contents of that list, there’s much more where that came from. We’ll discuss the week ahead when,
if
, you get back on time.’

Eden tucked the money in his back pocket along with the list. ‘As long as you understand I’m still counting on you being a man of your word, Pummel. This works both ways.’

Pummel nodded. ‘I think we understand each other perfectly.’

Eden nodded before he stepped past him.

‘Hey,’ Pummel called out.

Eden turned to face him again.

‘You be gentle with Tatum,’ he said, the glint returning in his eyes.

Eden laughed. ‘Somehow I get the feeling that’s not what she’s hoping for.’

He headed back along the hallway, wondering where she had disappeared to, Pummel’s gaze burning into his back.

He passed through the arch, and stopped at the foot of the stairs. The insides of his fingers tightened on the necks of the bottles, enough to make an indentation in his skin as he stared up the stairs. He rubbed his free hand across his mouth and reluctantly ascended.

There was no way he could get out of it now. Pummel was bound to check up on him. His excuse of having been distracted elsewhere in the row was blown. And if he and Jessie went missing at the same time now, it was a risk way too great for what were already seeds of doubt in Pummel’s mind. Seeds that he needed to eradicate of water, of oxygen, if he was to get away with another encounter. He needed to show Pummel, via Tatum, exactly what he was. Exactly what he was capable of.

He ascended the dog-legged staircase to the attic.

He paused outside for a moment, rubbed the leather wristband across his mouth. How he felt didn’t matter. What he needed to do did.

The door was unlocked.

Tatum was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other as they were drawn to her chest. She was in the same strappy top but was no longer wearing jeans. Instead, from the curvy mound of bare flesh he was presented with, she was either half naked or in a G-string. She had a half-empty wine glass in her hand and an expression that looked as though she was ready to tear him apart.

‘You fucking took your time,’ she declared.

He strolled over to the bed and placed the cold bottles on the bedside table.

He yanked off his T-shirt, distracting her for a moment. ‘I’m not really the wine-drinking type.’

She assessed him slowly as he lifted a bottle to his lips. ‘Then considering how much of my time you’ve already wasted, you’d better be planning on making up for it by showing me exactly what type you
are
.’ She placed her glass aside and eased up onto her knees with a captivating grace.

But the second she reached for his jeans, he caught her hand, gripping her wrist tight as he placed his bottle aside.

He couldn’t allow her to be in charge. He knew that gaining the upper hand quickly and keeping it was going to be most important of all in this situation. He couldn’t allow her to indulge in even one sadistic act, the consequences, as Jessie had confirmed, too great.

Tatum’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, reminding him not to irk her. But they flared when he pressed his free hand, no doubt still cold from holding his beer, against her cleavage to slam her down onto her back.

Sex, just sex – that’s what he had to remind himself. And he’d been in darker and more depraved situations than this in his time. He knew how to perform.

She uncurled her legs from under her like a languid feline, spreading her thighs either side of his, arching her back slightly to show her willingness.

The fragile straps of her expensive top tore easily, Tatum catching her breath as he exposed her to his gaze. She dragged her arms slowly above her head, arcing her back a little further, her lips parted, her eyes locked on his as she gave him an amused grin.

But it was a grin she lost as he flicked open the knife he’d removed from his jeans. For a second, she was wary.

Wary until he knelt between her thighs, sliced through the band of her underwear without so much as nicking her skin, tearing the flimsy fabric away before his gaze lingered between her legs.

Her breathing increased in terseness as, without needing prompting, she spread her legs further.

He met her gaze again, bit into his bottom lip.

As she slid her foot up his bare chest, her naked body splayed willingly beneath him, he switched his emotional brain to the visceral.

He reached for his beer again and took a slow and steady mouthful as he made her wait a moment longer.

Her first gasp of shock was the sweetest.

A
s soon as
she heard footsteps, Jessie finally brushed the imaginary fluff off her jumper and, with a mask of calmness, wandered over to her sofa chair.

Their voices had been low but she’d heard Pummel talk of another task. She’d recognised Eden’s footsteps head back up the hallway. Not only did relief wash over her that he’d left the kitchen intact, but that it was with a calm and casual stride – a stride that, even more reassuringly, disappeared into the distance. If Pummel was planning an execution, he was going to get his money’s worth first.

Except there was no way she was going to let it get that far.

She reached down the side of her sofa chair for her earphones – her excuse for having come back downstairs.

She looked at Pummel as he stood in the doorway. Looked at his pensive frown.

She tucked her hair behind her ears before clutching the earphones in her hand, knowing she could do nothing to contain her tremble, no matter how hard she tried.

But as she tried to step past him, he blocked her way. ‘Sit down,’ he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

He dragged the coffee table over and sat down in front of her, his muscular legs spread, his hands between them as he stared deep into her eyes with a cold, hard, calculated gleam. His silence was like a repeated stabbing straight into her chest and the sadistic bastard knew it, which was why, she knew, he prolonged it as long as his temper would allow.

‘You look tired, Jessie. Can you not sleep? Something on your mind?’

‘Nothing in particular.’

The smirk that curled the corner of his thick lips was made all the more cruel by the predator eyes above them.

Having learned from experience, she dared not look anywhere but at him. Her heart thudded a little harder, every tiny, fine hair on her arm and the back of her neck spiking.

‘You look a little tense,’ he said with a mock frown of concern. ‘Some might say guilty.’

‘For what?’

The minute he reached out and grabbed her wrist, she recoiled into the chair.

‘No,’ she said quietly, with a swift shake of her head.

Tightening his grip, his grin switched to a sneer.

She was tugged to her feet a second later, yanked across the room. ‘Pummel, I haven’t done anything wrong.’

But he was closed to protest, his tourniquet grip on her wrist telling her this was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

And she couldn’t retaliate.
Couldn’t
. With her blood pumping and her indignation building, she could feel only frustration escalating inside. ‘Pummel, don’t do this.’

She needed to get to Eden. She needed to be in that lock-up. She needed rid of him. This was a delay she couldn’t afford.

He tugged her out into the hallway and yanked her around the corner past the kitchen.

Jessie dug her toes into the mat, the thin fabric coiling up and sliding on the floor with her as Pummel dragged her closer to the familiar doorway. ‘No,’ she said again, her legs leaden.

But her resistance only caused shooting pains in her head, bright lights behind her eyes, the pain building the more she resisted as it always did if she showed even an inkling of retaliation against her guardian.

Pummel unlocked the under-stairs cupboard, the one he had soundproofed and boarded up for this very purpose. Darkness, coldness, loneliness loomed from within the low-ceilinged six-foot square space.

Pummel gave her one more yank before shoving her into the corner of the dense space, her back hitting rough-sawn wood.

He closed in on her, grabbing her by the throat as he pinned her against the wall, his lips close to hers, his rounded stomach pressed against her flat belly.

She instinctively turned her head to the side away from his putrid breath, the venom of his words as his grip tightened.

‘This is because I
suspect
,’ he said. ‘But if I find out he
has
touched you, that you
let
him touch you,
this
will be your life. Do I make myself clear?’

Brimming with barely suppressed indignation, she nodded.

‘Day after day,’ he said, ‘week after week, month after month, year after year. Because I may not be able to do the full extent of things I want to do to you,’ he said, grabbing her behind, pulling her tight against his groin, making every inch of her flesh crawl, ‘but I
can
make you bleed, I
can
make you hurt and I
can
make you cry. And I will leave his gutted corpse rotting away in here with you until I’m convinced you’ve learned your lesson. So, once more:
Do
I make myself clear?’

She nodded again, her jaw clenched, her teeth gritted.

‘Good,’ he said against her ear. He tightened his grip on her throat even more so she could barely breathe, his mouth now excruciatingly close to her ear, his hot breath licking her chilled skin. ‘Because if you waste what you can do or if I
ever
find out that this claim of essential chastity turns out to be a lie, I will
personally
make you bleed from places you didn’t think possible – and
enjoy
every prolonged minute of it.’

She closed her eyes as Pummel’s stagnant breath caressed her neck, her teeth clamped as she forced herself to stay calm, the need to retaliate amidst her inability to do so like drowning in a straightjacket.

But when she opened them and looked back into his eyes, she had the feeling that he knew as much as she did that despite her involuntary physical acquiescence, there was more spirit in her than he would ever break.

To her advantage, her only advantage, she was too useful,
far
too useful, for him to ever take that extra step.

He let her go with a shove sharp enough to cause her head to hit the back of the wall. There was a time when that would have been punishment enough, the result of any of her minor discretions like wandering too far down the row, or disappearing for longer than he wanted, or making eye contact with someone else in the room, or unwittingly rubbing shoulders. But this time he sensed her defiance and he treated it as a threat. Because he
needed
her. More than he liked to admit, he
really
needed her. And he
hated
her knowing that.

The flat of his palm came at her hard and fast, causing pain to shoot through her face and sting her lips. She cupped her cheek, her gaze hitting the floor. She looked back up only as he slammed the door shut, locking and bolting it from the other side, probably to hold back on giving her a further beating he had no doubt resolved she deserved.

Left alone in the pitch-blackness, fear engulfed her like a downpour of freezing water, squeezing the breath out of her body as she waited for her eyes to click into night vision. The silence made her ears thrum, her head ache.

She slid down the wall into the corner, her nails raking through the wood, her back plastered to the wall as darkness consumed her until her eyes adjusted, leaving her with the reminder of the close walls of the tomb she was enclosed in. She drew her knees protectively to her chest, squeezed her thumbnail between her clamped teeth.

His threat still lingered in her ears. She’d always known a part of him hadn’t believed her claims, but there was no way he was going to risk losing his most valuable asset by testing it.