Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 1) (23 page)

"Umm, I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to swing this last minute Mrs. Nelson." I say with regret. The truth is, is that I don't have enough room on any of my credit cards for a plane ticket around the corner much less to the Bahamas.

"We'll purchase the ticket and reserve your room of course Miss Hill. All you'll need to worry about is a great presentation. If you agree, your flight leaves at 8:30am tomorrow. You'll need to get there early of course because it's international travel. You have a passport right?"
 

"I do."

"Excellent! So should I reserve your seat and let Mr. Lambert know that you're on your way?"

This is it Elizabeth. Your Plan B.

"Yes, thank you."

"Okay, can you email me your details? Send me your full name, birthdate, passport number and all that jazz, and I'll email you your boarding pass. Make sure to print it out and bring it with you to the gate."

"Absolutely. I'm on it right now."

"And Miss Hill?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Roman

"What in the ham sandwich happened in here?"

Jade enters my apartment door cautiously; poking her head inside and looking around corners while randomly kicking things on the floor with the rounded toe of her Converse. I forgot that I gave her a copy of my key if I ever became “unresponsive”.
 

It's a safety precaution we put in place just in case I was ever in trouble, and she needed to access my emergency cash or gun stash. She's never had to use it until today, although had to use is a strong term for her being here. I don't need her assistance at all, and she knows it. She's just being nosy.
 

"This place is a real fucking mess Roman and so are you."
 

Tell me something I don't already know you tiny terror.

"Shut up Jade."

"We really need to talk about how you speak to your employees, if you're going to take over the business. Your people skills suck."

After the awkward drive home with Elizabeth the other day, I called myself giving her a little distance. I know that I moved entirely too fast with her when she was over my place, and that I probably scared the ever living shit out of her. So I thought it was best that I take yesterday off and make it a "No Duchess Day," because when I'm around her, I can't help but want to get inside her in any way she'll allow me to. Her mind. Her body.

Fortunately my "No Duchess Day" gave me a chunk of distraction-free time to take a serious look over of the ownership agreements I've signed with Joseph, along with my lawyer, and to start setting up meetings with management of each club. I have a lot of ideas on how to improve productivity and increase revenue, especially now that Camden and Cutter have agreed to be the managing partners of all the clubs.
 

Unfortunately though, I now realize why a "No Duchess Day" was a bad idea, because that woman is capable of anything in twenty-four hours. I run by the house under the pretense of asking Joseph to clarify something in one of the contracts and learn from Juliette that Elizabeth went out of the fucking country to meet some investor, without so much as a single word to me.
 

After that my brain and my body went on autopilot. Juliette fixed me something to eat, and I have zero idea of what was on the plate. I just wolfed it down while I thought about a hundred ways to get on a plane to the Bahamas with a non-registered gun. I asked Joseph about clause number twelve in one of the contracts, but I'll be damned if I have any recall of his explanation.
 

Not that it mattered.
 

It was all a front to get in the front door and put eyes on Elizabeth anyway. I just needed to know that she was okay. That she didn't hate me. I wanted to know if she had been thinking about me or about what we did. I'd know if I saw her. Elizabeth is easy to read. Those expressive eyes of hers tell the truth even when she does her best to lie her ass off. Especially to me.

Now she's gone.

When I finally made it home, and I definitely don't remember exactly how I got here, I sat down with my old friend Jack Daniels and drank myself into a coma and then later into a violent rage. That thing, that monster inside me, which I desperately try to keep at bay was rearing its ugly head. That thing telling me I'm not good enough. That I'm trash. That I can't be trusted. I start tossing shit all around the place, destroying my own home; my crowning achievement. Because it doesn't mean shit if I don't mean shit to the one person that is starting to matter to me.
 

So now I'm sitting on my couch, the same couch that I spread Elizabeth across and fucked her thoroughly on just a day ago, and I'm staring at a blank flat screen. Wondering when the hell did I turn into a complete pussy and what I'm going to do about it– because this shit sucks.

"What are you doing here?" I ask Jade in a very annoyed voice like the prick that I am.

"You didn't return my call or text for over eight hours homie. You know the protocol. You created it. You could have been in jail or dead in an alley somewhere. What is going on? And don't tell me nothing because we both know that's a bunch of bullshit. Is this about Joseph?"

"No Jade."

"Your mom?"

"No." I snap. Talking about my mother has always been off-limits.

"Then what?"

"Elizabeth is gone."

Jade's eyes grow wide with fear, and I know instantly that she knows something that I don't. Why would she react like that?

"What is it Jade?" I ask with little patience in my voice. "What."

"Do you know where she went?" She asks nervously.

"To the Bahamas. Why?"

"Oh shit." Jade rubs the palms of her hands nervously up and down the front of her jeans. "You asked me to look into the ex."

"AND!"

"Well the boyfriend Ethan. He's not in rehab."

My chest constricts. I'm not liking this. I'm really not liking this.

"When did he get out?"

"He didn't. He was never in rehab. At least not in Arizona like Elizabeth thinks."

"So where the fuck is he Jade?"

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's in the Bahamas."

END OF BOOK ONE

♥♥♥

Roman & Elizabeth's Story Continues In The Sequel...COUSINS Book 2 (Coming Soon!) Please Be Sure To Leave A Review & Make Sure You Don't Miss Part Two's Release Date By Signing Up For My VIP Readers List
HERE
.

Sneak Peak
 

Cousins Book 2

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

 
I should notice Jade in the room, because she's basically standing directly in front of me with her legs shoulder width apart, both hands on her hips, and her miniature head cocked to the side; but I'm so inside of my own head right now, it's almost as if she's a silhouette blending into the background with the rest of the furniture.
 

I should also hear everything Jade is saying to me, because she's popping her usual wad of god-awful gum in her mouth to make her presence known in the room, but even her voice is like white noise to me right now.
 

I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, methodically taking apart and reassembling my Beretta 92FS while separating and scarfing down yellow peanut M&Ms. If a stranger was a fly on the wall inside my apartment right now, he or she would probably be staring at me as if I was completely certifiable; basically how Jade is looking at me at this very minute.
 

What I've never told her or anyone for that matter is that I was taught by a school counselor, who I was forced to see in the twelfth grade (by Joseph's request I suspect), that I needed to create rituals for myself in order to self soothe.
 

In other words, to calm the fuck down.
 

When my insides are dark and stormy, this is what I do. I either create a new ritual on the fly or fall back on one of my old standards, but whichever method I select, they always have to mean something to me. And only me.
 

I was barely six years old when my mother woke me up on a weeknight at five am and announced that we were going to walk all the way from our house to Walmart (which was at least two miles away) and wait for them to open. She had purchased a vacuum cleaner from there that she wanted to return immediately, because the power cord would not automatically wind back inside it's compartment, and she was livid. This is what it could be like living with my mother.
 

She acted on every impulse, every whim, and every emotion. Many times at my expense.
 

After the time it took to get there, we waited another two hours for Walmart to open that day, and then she told me to sit on the walkway in front of the store with the vacuum cleaner while she made a run to the bank. I didn't understand at my age that there were no banks open at seven am, at least not in our neighborhood, so I did as I was told and waited.
 

It was cold that day and the longer I sat on the concrete, and the longer she was gone, the more anxious I became. I was shivering with my arms around a vacuum cleaner box as store employees pulled inside the parking lot to begin their workday. Most of them gave me quick but inquisitive glances as they continued their labored marches inside the building. Everyone except a cashier named Caroline. A round, robust woman with little to no hair on her head (my guess was due to chemo) but a huge smile; and she stopped to speak to me when no one else bothered to that day.

"Why are you sitting out here all alone son?"

"My mom's vacuum cleaner doesn't work."

"Where is your momma?"

"At the bank."

"The bank? Which one?"

"I don't know."

Hmmm…what's your name?"

"Roman. What's yours?"

"See my name tag? Can you read it?"

"Yep. It says Caroleene."

"That's Caroline."

"That's what I said. Caroleene."

She smiled warmly at me.
 

"You want to come inside with the vacuum cleaner and wait for momma there Roman? It's chilly out here, and you'll get hemorrhoids if you stay sittin' on that concrete."

I liked the looks of Caroline. Even though she was missing a lot of hair, she still looked warm and fluffy like someone's grandma should look. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, warning me to avoid all strangers, especially kind ones. My mom didn't trust many people and even when I really wanted to, I didn't either.

"I'll wait for my mommy out here."

"Fair enough, but here's a little something for the wait. Free of charge."

Caroline smiled when she handed me a small unopened bag of M&Ms. It was the first time I had candy since I could remember, and even though I had been warned about accepting food, gifts, or kindness from strangers, I made an exception that morning.

"It's my only guilty pleasure. I have plenty more at home unfortunately. You take these," she offered.

"Thank you."
 

I ripped the bag open almost immediately. I didn't realize how hungry I was.

"What good manners and you’re welcome darling. But listen Roman, make sure to eat each one of those candies one by one and very slowly. It will help pass the time until your mom gets back. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

 
Time passed longer than I ever anticipated that day and now that I'm older and wiser, it's obvious that sweet, old Miss Caroline figured that it was going to be a long morning for me. It was the first time that my mother had ever left me somewhere and then completely forgot about me. She usually came back within at least an hour.
 

This time she didn't.
 

I was still sitting outside Walmart three hours later, when the tears started to roll down my face and the realization hit me that my mother wasn't coming back for me. I knew then that I had a decision to make. Should I try and look for my mother? Should I try and make my way back home? Or should I go inside and ask the sweet old woman for help?
 

I ate the last of my M&Ms while I thought things through and was able to arrive to my first of many future
big boy
decisions. I was going to figure out my way back home, with the vacuum cleaner in tow, and hoped that my mother would remember her way back home too.
 

Almost five hours later she did.

I'm lining up the peanut version of my favorite candy side by side on my smoked glass table, then eating only the yellow M&Ms. Yellow is Elizabeth's favorite color. Eating M&Ms to calm myself down is one of my
go to
rituals thanks to the kind woman I met many years ago. Making it yellow M&Ms is something I'm doing on the fly. Something that reminds me of the very person that has my insides all twisted in knots.
 

Elizabeth is all I can think about.
 

Her legs.
 

Her breasts.
 

Her laugh.
 

That ass.
 

I don't especially like that images of her are creeping around inside of my head, consuming my thoughts, but the fact remains that I brought all this shit on myself once I put my hands and mouth on her and my damn dick inside of her. I have no one to blame but my fucking self.

It's like a switch has been flipped on inside of me that I couldn't power off even if I wanted to. What I think I hate most about how I'm feeling is that it's all so new and foreign to me. This desire to always know where she's at, what she's doing, and how she's feeling is actually a big pain in my ass. That shit is for weak pussies. Not for men like me.
 

My old counselor would probably say I’m having an issue because I ‘don’t know how to interpret and control unfamiliar emotional responses’ or some such shit.