Devil May Care: Boxed Set (34 page)

Rome

If I thought that was all it would take for me to get over my infatuation with Olivia, I was dead wrong. It had been some damn good sex, mind blowing even, but it didn’t sate my lust for her in the least. She seemed giddy afterwards, floating on a post coital high that made her almost drunk and loopy.

I was glad I’d picked up breakfast before, because there was no way I wanted to leave her now.

We ate the muffins and drank the coffee I’d brought in earlier, mostly silent. I couldn’t bring myself to talk and disturb the incredible mood, but for Olivia, I thought she just couldn’t make her mind focus enough to form a coherent conversation.

It made me wonder if she’d ever had sex that good before.

When we were finished, we were really supposed to shower and get dressed, but we never even made it to the shower part. I had her pressed against the wall, my dick sliding into her before she could even catch her breath. She was ragged with desire, despite coming, and her hands gripped my hair like she never wanted to let go.

I knew this wouldn’t last nearly as long as it had earlier, but that was okay. I just wanted to be buried deep inside of her all over again.

I quickly decided I liked taking her against the wall, her pussy clamping down on my hard rod, and made a mental list of all the other ways I was going to take her. Bent over a table sounded good. In the shower. Sitting on my lap. And a million other ways. Anything she would let me try, anything
she
wanted to try, I was game for.

I felt myself quickly coming to orgasm, the pleasure building to the breaking point until I thought I was going to lose my damn mind. I made sure she enjoyed it to, and when I came there was a moment where I thought I wouldn’t be able to do anything else for a long, long time.

I would have given anything to curl up with her in bed then and take a nap, but it wasn’t meant to be. I heard the motorcycles outside first and checked the window. Sure enough I spotted Jacob and several other Renegades. They were headed right for our door and there was no question in my mind as to what they wanted.

Motioning for Olivia to grab her bag and get dressed quickly, I yanked on my own pants. When we were decent enough to run, I dragged her to the bathroom and locked the door.

“Rome?” She looked scared. The flush from our earlier lovemaking was still smattered across her skin, but it was fading quickly thanks to the sudden danger we were in.

“We’ll be okay. Let’s go.”

I laced my fingers together to use as a foothold. She slid her foot into it and I boosted her up to the small bathroom window. She forced it open. Pushing her up, she shimmied through it. When I heard her land softly on the other side, I threw out her backpack and the small pack I’d grabbed, too. Then I followed out, nearly getting stuck thanks to my wide shoulders.

From the other room, I heard the door burst open. Someone said, “Shit!”

Then there was jiggling at the bathroom door. I managed to get myself out just in time. Grabbing Olivia’s hand and our bags, we raced across the parking lot to the door. I heard screaming behind us and then the loud bang of a gun. We ducked; Olivia screamed. We slammed against the car, ducking behind it on the driver’s side. I made her get in the back, sliding down between the seats, as I got behind the wheel.

Tires squealed as I drove off, more shots ringing out behind us.

Olivia

I had never in my entire life been shot at. A lot of other terrible things had happened before, and if I was being entirely honest with myself, some of those things had left me wondering if my life were in danger. But I’d never been
shot
at. To me, it felt as though I’d crossed some sort of invisible line. There were things that happened to normal, everyday people, and there were things that didn’t. This was one of those things that didn’t.

I glanced down at the ring on my finger. It caught the light and gleamed prettily, though it was plain. I had always imagined my wedding ring—assuming I ever got married in the first place—being fancy and maybe classic, with a modest but noticeable diamond placed elegantly in the center. Not that I was so vain that I would turn down someone who truly loved me just because the ring wasn’t my version of perfection.

But now I was married and neither the ring nor the man fit any incarnation of my married fantasies.

Rome was driving as he had been since we left. I frowned as I looked at him now and wondered if that was such a good idea. I’d come with him because we were in danger and that night had shaken me up enough that I probably would have gone off with the first person who told me he would help.

But would you have married him?

That was a tougher question. Would I have married just anyone if they had claimed it was necessary for the things that were happening? I seriously didn’t think the answer was yes, but here I was, running from gang members who wanted to hurt me because
he
was in my life.

This was all his fault and that thought stung a little. It made me sullen and a little angry. Which didn’t help the situation. Rome was already tense, not just because of what happened back there—they’d yelled at us, shot at us, and tried to follow us as we tore out of the parking lot of the hotel—but because he’d been the only one to drive and he wouldn’t stop until he put some real distance between us and them. The result was him being a little sleep deprived and
very
cranky.

Thankfully, the car was silent now. We’d been arguing on and off over everything from speed limits to hotels to food stops. We couldn’t seem to agree on any of it.

Two days married and it’s already falling apart,
I thought bitterly. How did I get myself into this mess?

My phone went off—again—and I winced. I’d set it to vibrate only after the first half dozen texts had come in from Tom. He was angry with me, demanding to know where I was and telling me that my husband was clearly a sham. He told me that I’d pay for that—then he’d switch tactics and tell me he was sorry. He would beg me to come home. I wasn’t unfamiliar with his sudden mood swings, but that didn’t make me comfortable with them. Some part of me desperately wanted to believe the sweetness in the ones that called for me to come home, but most of me knew just how stupid that was. I knew better than to think he would ever be a good boyfriend, one who didn’t control me. Worse, I knew that if I didn’t follow
his
rules, there would be violence.

I glanced over at Rome. He wasn’t looking at me, acting as though he hadn’t heard my phone or seen me wince, but I saw that his full lips were pulled down into a frown. His hands gripped the steering wheel harder and I could tell by the muscles in his clenched jaw that he was pissed.

He liked the texts even less than I liked them, and it didn’t bode well for this trip. I was desperate for the damn destination to pop up so that I could get out of the car and away from Rome.

Trying to be casual about it, I subtly slipped the phone from my pocket and checked it. I was right; it was Tom.

Come home, baby. You know I’ll take care of you. You’ll never have to worry about anything again. Don’t let that dick drag you down.

I frowned at the text. It wasn’t the first one to mention Rome, but it was the first one that suggested his wanting me to leave Rome had something to do with my own safety.

I didn’t answer the text, just sliding it back into my pocket.

There were several minutes of silence, but I knew it was too good to last. In a gruff, harsh voice, Rome asked, “Was that Tom?”

I really didn’t want to tell him yes, but I wasn’t going to lie either. I just wasn’t very convincing at lying and there was no way I would come up with something convincing quickly enough anyway. He would know and it would just cause more problems.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Yes, it was.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He made an irritated noise in his throat, looking more and more like he wanted to punch something. I tried to tell myself that he wasn’t interested in punching me. “
And
what did the prick say?”

I folded my arms across my chest. I wanted to tell him, “None of your business,” but I didn’t think that would fly. He would throw something back at me like, “I’m saving your ass, here,” or, “You’re my wife; it’s my fucking business now.” Which may have both been true, but I didn’t think they warranted him being privy to everything in my life. At least not given our very unique and unanticipated circumstances.

Instead, I finally just told him a short version of the truth. “He asked me to come back.”

Rome made a low noise in his throat that almost could have been a growl. “Did you answer him?” he asked, and I could tell there was more to the question than just the obvious. There was an underlying current of tension and anger that had me a little worried. I couldn’t be sure what answer he was looking for, but I figured he didn’t want to hear
yes
. At least I could say that I hadn’t honestly.

“Of course not,” I told him, letting irritation fill my tone. Like he had any right to be angry with me. This was
my
life after all. He’d just forcibly inserted himself into it without any consideration of my opinions or feelings. “Of
course
not. Why would I answer him? I have no intention of—”

Rome cut me off before I could start ranting about me never going back to Tom. Maybe I was scared and thinking that things had spiraled way out of control, I still knew Tom was bad news. It didn’t even matter that there was a part of me that still wanted to believe he was a good guy. The rest of me knew the truth and I’d worked this hard to get him out of my life.

“Then why don’t you just block the fucking number already?” Rome demanded, and there was no question that he was angry now.
Really
angry. I was grateful he was driving, because at least it meant he couldn’t really look at me. His eyes had to be locked on the road, at least enough to make sure we didn’t hit any oncoming or slow moving traffic. “If you don’t have any intention of answering the piece of shit, then why not cut him off? Block his number and be done with it instead of whining like some stupid little school girl.”

Anger boiled beneath my skin.
School girl?
What right did he have to say that to me? He didn’t know the first thing about the complexities of this relationship or of
me
for that matter. How dare he just try to dictate what I should and shouldn’t do.

Just like Tom.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks and suddenly I stared at him with new eyes. From the first time I’d met him at the bar that night, I’d been working to resist him. There was temptation laced in the curves of his swollen muscles and in the edges of his square jaw. There was the promise of sex—what I now knew to be
amazing
sex—lingering in the wild toss of his blond hair. There was a storm of passion shining in his grey eyes.

He was the walking embodiment of temptation and I’d been resisting it since I met him—mostly ineffectively, if our current situation was any real indication.

But I’d been resisting him because he had that whole bad boy, sex god vibe that warned me off. It was the type of thing I was attracted to, and I just wasn’t interested in being used for sex and then dumped. But maybe I’d been running from the wrong thing all along. Were there obvious similarities between him and Tom?

At first glance, I wanted to say no. He was well-built, carelessly put together, like he didn’t care and the result was effortlessly gorgeous, with a cocky arrogance that made him both delightful and dreadful. Tom was the exact opposite in almost everything. He was cool, controlled, and constantly on the edge of snapping. He was mild and could blend in almost anywhere effortlessly, looking like a sophisticated version of the boy next door. But beneath that there was violence and anger. He liked things a certain way and when you were constantly working not to snap, you
needed
things to be the way you liked them. Even if it meant those around you had to bend to your every whim.

I’d tried to do that for a while and had failed more than not, if felt like. Finally, I’d failed so badly that he’d lost his temper, and not in a small way.

At first, I thought the fact that I could
see
Rome’s temper—not constantly, not in a way that suggested he was incapable of existing without said temper—meant that he couldn’t constantly be on the verge of it. He would never just snap because he had an outlet for his anger. But maybe I’d been thinking of it in the wrong way. What if it wasn’t about how long it took for someone to snap, rather the type of anger they carried inside them?

It initially didn’t seem like Rome needed things his way. Yes, he was arrogant and pushy, but I never thought,
If I don’t change, he’s going to hurt me.
But it wasn’t really about changing, was it? It was about control. Doing what you were told because that person told you to do it.

And wasn’t that what Rome was doing?

He was giving me orders, pushing me to do things that I wasn’t ready to do, and telling me that I was being stupid for not following those orders. And
that
sounded a lot like Tom.

Suddenly, I felt a little queasy. I’d worked so hard to get away from that awful man and now…was I married to him?

Biting my lip, I took out my phone.
Just block the fucking number already.
I stared down at my phone. I’d thought about blocking the number on my own once before. Ultimately, I hadn’t wanted to because Tom would know. And it would make Tom angry. He knew where I lived, would come after me, and Rome wasn’t any sort of guaranteed protection. But now? I was married to Rome and on the run. Was knowing where I lived any sort of danger now? I wasn’t sure, but the rational part of me said yes. After all, I’d have to go home eventually, right?

Assuming you survive.

I shoved
that
unpleasant thought aside and focused on my phone. At this point, I agreed with Rome. Blocking Tom’s number was a good idea—but I wasn’t going to do it. Good idea or no, I wouldn’t do it because, damnit, it was the principle of the thing! I was my own person and I wouldn’t let
anyone
control me again.

Puckering my lips, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and folded my arms across my chest again. “No,” I told him. I turned away so that I wouldn’t see him, not even out of the corner of my eye. Outside the window, the desert passed us by. We were in California now, though I couldn’t be sure which part. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were headed, but I had a feeling we were taking a
very
roundabout way to get there. He was still nervous about the gang members who had found us at the hotel, which I didn’t blame him for.

I was nervous, too.

I caught a glimpse of him reflected back at me in the glass. He had glanced over at me and I could see splotches of ruby red crowding on his face. He was mad. And not just a little bit.

“
No?
” he repeated back at me, his voice low and silky. The kind of voice that
could
be sexual, but definitely wasn’t just then. No, he was absolutely pissed. “No. No, you’re
not
going to block the number of your
asshole
ex-boyfriend who
clearly
was interested in
stalking
you? The asshole who any idiot can see is
abusive
?”