Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (17 page)

Chapter 14

“Get back here you...asshole!” I yelled at his back. He froze mid step. I knew my foul language had caught him off guard. “LOOK AT ME! Do you ever think about what you do? I’m a human being you know, I have feelings. You can't walk all over me and expect me to think it’s normal or okay!” I wanted to stay mad, to be strong, but my lip started quivering and tears pricked the back of my eyes as he slowly turned to face me. His caramel eyes glowered as they swept over my face.

“
Mags. Don’t...don't cry, please. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” In four long strides he was at my side. His arms scooped me up under my arms and pulled me close to him as I wrapped myself around his body.

“Don't you ever treat me that way again and don't you ever try to leave like that again. I’m always here. I’m always here for you. I’m not the enemy, Cane,” I said, muffled into his neck. He’d shown up at the dorms. Aster and I had people over, men included. Cane, in a jealous rage, flew off the handle at the sight of them. He’d accused me of terrible thing and stormed out, despite my pleas to stop. He arched back slowly to see my face. His face looked tortured. So much pain. He leaned forward slowly, breathing heavily, and I knew. I knew what he needed to feel secure right now so I gave it to him. He picked me up and
 gently slipped his tongue between my lips and I melted into him, trembling in his arms. I tilted my head and he deepened the kiss. I wound my arms around his neck and threaded my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to me. He set me down softly, but kept a strong arm wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him from chest to hips. Thank God. I wasn’t sure my legs would work just then. That smile. I felt it in my belly. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen but when they’re warm and his lips turned up into a smile making his whole face melt, it’s almost too much to take. Our lips met tenderly for a moment again, before I let myself go and gave everything to him. I took his kiss just as forcefully as he gave it. Nothing else in the world existed in that moment.

I wake up tangled in arms and legs, confused and teary-eyed from my dream. Bentley clears his throat and nuzzles the back of my neck. “Morning, princess.” His voice is heavy and gritty with sleep.

“Morning. Could you, maybe, let me up?” I ask timidly. He stiffens behind me but slowly releases his grip on me. I hop up, still naked as the day is young, and tag his button-up shirt off the floor. Pulling it over my head I dart to the bathroom. Shutting myself in I lock the door for privacy. My hair’s a rat’s nest and I have little tiny hickies trailing down my neck and collarbone. My lips are swollen and my skin looks dewy. All the signs of a well fucked gal: yup, check. Little flashbacks of our first round in the bedroom, and then the second, infiltrate my mind. I turn the water on and brush my teeth and hair before splashing water on my face. I’ve never worn a man’s button-up shirt before and somehow that makes being in his that much more intimate. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I’ve just taken a step forward or messed up everything.

“
Mags?” Bentley’s voice cuts through my wandering thoughts. A soft knock at the door follows.

“I’ll be right out,” I croak. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I suck in a big breath, put my hand on the door handle and pop the lock. I saunter back into my room to find Bentley sitting on the edge of my bed in jeans but nothing else, holding my pistol and staring at the monitors that line the wall.

“Jesus...” he whispers. I don’t know if he’s mad or upset, curious or turned on. There’s a spark in his eyes that resembles last night’s looks but he’s clearly not happy about my fortress.

“What? This is what I look like in the morning!” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.

“You look good in nothing but my shirt,” he smirks and sets the pistol down next to him. Pushing off the bed, he prowls over to me and pulls me flush against him. “I’ve been waiting for last night to happen for a long time now.”

“I hope it lived up to expectation,” I reply smartly. He leans in and nips my bottom lip before giving me one of the best good morning kisses I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving. I don’t know whether to get used to this or kick him out.

“Better than,” he offers. “But I have questions, Mags, and you have answers.” Ugh, I’ve dreaded this moment for the last few months. I don’t want to talk. I don't want to tell him anything but I’ve gone and let him get way too close to justify not explaining the behavior and the trailer. Nothing short of oh, hey, I’m insane, would be plausible. I don’t understand that last phrase…

“Coffee, cowboy. Never, ever try to have a conversation with me before coffee,” I offer, hoping to buy a little more time.

“Fine,” he grins. “I’ll start a pot, you talk.” He brushes past me into the kitchen like a man on a mission, leaving me no choice but to sigh loudly and follow. I plop down onto the couch and tuck my feet up under me while he wanders around the kitchen trying to find where I keep everything.

“I don’t know where to start,” I let out nervously. I stare out the small window to the trailer across from me. Ms. whatever-her-name-is is calling the cat that doesn't exist and suddenly I wonder if I’ll live long enough to see dementia.

“Start with the pimped-out trailer, princess,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I want to be safe. Or, I want to be as safe as I can be,” I amend. “The cameras, the locks, the windows and doors and walls, they were all upgrades to give me the illusion of safety.”

“Windows, doors and walls?” he asks curiously.

“Bulletproof. Reinforced. Impenetrable. Well I suppose someone could blow it up...” I trail off. He sits next to me on the couch while the coffee slow drips into the carafe, and scrubs his hand over his stubble before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“What are you worried about?” he asks finally.

“I’m worried about being hunted down and taken out.” The words sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth. True, but so insane sounding.

“Jesus, you make this painful. How ‘bout this: explain ‘the illusion of safety’,” he croaks, looking sincerely concerned for me and it eats at my soul a little.

“I’ve been found. It’s only a matter of time now. I was foolish to think that securing my home would have any impact on my safety in the end,” I ramble.

“God dammit, Cypress, why can you just tell me the truth?!” he booms, startling me. Did he just say Cypress? My vision blurs for a moment before I leap up and put ample distance between us. I watch his face fall.

“What did you just call me?” I hiss, ready to defend myself if necessary. After all, I’ve been training for this, preparing myself to stay alive as long as possible. He looks alarmed and his hands clench into fists at his sides.

“Cypress. I called you Cypress. You are my mission.” My vision zeroes in on his face. He’s not lying. I’ve befriended Ezra’s peon and taken it a step further by sleeping with him. I have been played in the worst way. I lurch forward, clutching my belly, and heave for air. All this time I’ve been sitting with the devil. He stands and takes a step towards me.

“NO!” I bark. “Tell me where to find him and I’ll go myself, but this…” I gesture between us, “…this is no more.” His features morph into confusion and he takes another step forward, shaking his head at me. I push two more steps back before I turn and run to the bedroom. I grab the gun from the bed, remove the safety and spin around just as Bentley collides with me. We land on the mattress, me pinned underneath him. The gun clatters to the floor. Instinct kicks in from all the training and I start grappling with him to escape.

“Dammit, Cypress, STOP!” he bellows.

“Stop calling me that!” He pins my arms above my head with his hands and drives a knee between mine on the bed, firmly holding me where I lie.

“I’m not with Ezra. I’m ATF.” I freeze, completely baffled.

“What?” I breathe.

“I am ATF and you are my only link to Ezra Ash. I’ve been assigned to you for the last two years.”

“Get off.” I squirm.

“Are you going to try to shoot me?” he chuckles.

“Two years?! I haven’t even been here for two years, Bentley, what the hell!” I squeal as soon as he moves off me.

“I know that. I was working as a T.A. at your college and was trying to figure out a way to make contact when all the shit went down.” Oh my goodness. This is so much bigger than I ever thought it was. I’m stunned into silence. I was his in into the Ash family? This can’t be.

“Please say something,” he urges.

“Bentley, I...” words fail me. I curl up into a little ball on the bed and squeeze my eyes shut willing all this to go away. “Last night...” I trail off. One. Two. Three. Four.

“No. No, no, don’t go there. Last night was not part of my assignment. I’m not supposed to get ‘involved’ with you really. Casual friendship, keep an eye out, yes, but Cypress, it’s become so much more for me,” he explains.

“Stop calling me that,” I whisper. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I know that,” he laments, grimacing.

“You
know
that? Really?” I bark out.

“I’ve watched you for two years. I’ve watched the girl you were change into the woman you are now. The only missing link is why you fled,” he says, rubbing my back gently. I shrug his hand off and roll to face him.

“What? You don’t know?” I snit.

“I know Cane Ash was killed and I know that Cane was your boyfriend.” My heart stops at his words. It dies right there. Just my boyfriend. What a terrible way to look at it.

“Cane Ash was my
everything.
Did you know that we started dating our senior year of high school? Did you know that for our two year anniversary he got us an apartment to live in so we didn't have to be apart during college anymore? Did you know that he wanted out? That he wanted to
be
something? Or how about that he was NOTHING like his uncle. Nothing like those men. He loved me and I killed him. Did you know all that? No. You surely didn't. You just know what you’re told or what you see, which is only the tip of the iceberg.” It’s a relief to actually say what I really feel for once, to explain what happened. He sits rigid, unmoving, as if he’s digesting my words.

“You killed him?” comes out on a breath. I nod my response.

“It wasn’t him I was aiming for. It was Ezra,” I clarify. “I’m not some heartless bitch, you know.”

“I never said you were. Listen, some of this I need to report back to my superior.” His tone is all business now.

“No,” I state.

“Cy-
Mags, I have to. It’s my job.”

“Correction, I’m your job. There’s more,” I offer.

“Why’d you go after Ezra? By all my accounts you were just some goody two shoes average college student,” he says, irritation etched on his face.

“Well thanks for that.” I snort and stand up. I grab the gun from the floor and put the safety back on before setting it on my nightstand. I tug the hem of his shirt, trying to hide more of myself. I feel too exposed now that the truth is out.

“He’s found me. I knew he’d come. I’m a loose end and I have his money. It’s why I train, and have my trailer ‘pimped out,’ and why I keep a gun near me at all times.”

“
Mags, listen, we don’t have enough to put him away yet. You were a lead because you could get us inside information. But I need to know why you’re a loose end and why you think he’s found you.” I hate the cold all-business nature his voice as taken on.

I stomp down the hall and fix myself the coffee that I’ve yet to drink before plopping on the couch and chugging my mug.

“I found a cypress branch on the hood of my car the other night. No one knows I’m Cypress, unless it was you who put it there.” I raise an eyebrow at him and wait. He shakes his head no at me.

“I set up multiple P.O. boxes when I moved here, all over, and had junk mail sent to each. I changed my name, it was…it was nothing Ezra would ever know to call me. I have burner phones and haven't had any contact with anyone besides Aster since the day I left,” I explain. “In other words, I’ve been smart. Ezra has money and resources that I don't, so I knew it would only be a matter of time. I
want
him to find me, Bentley, I’m ready for him now. I need to finish this.” I watch as irritation and concern battle for his attention. He leans back and pounds his fists into the cushion of the couch.

“You can’t kill him,
Mags. You’ll go to prison,” he barks at me, clearly irritated.

“I have to make things right. It’s all his fault. I need this, Bentley, I need this to feel alive again,” I plead.

“You didn't feel alive last night?” he growls.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make the comparison. It’s not the same,” I snap.

“Mags! It’s a simple question. Answer it. I need to know,” he rumbles at me.
“It...it was…”

“ANSWER ME,” he demands.

“It was amazing, alright? I did feel alive. I did, and it was the first time in a long time that I felt anything at all and that’s terrifying to me!” I shriek, feeling completely unguarded. He scoots closer to me and sweeps my hair over my shoulder.