Sweet Jayne (15 page)

It takes everything in me to swallow down my rage and feign disinterest. “To be honest, it’s irritating to have to work in her presence, knowing she can’t remember shit. But don’t flatter yourself,” I tell him with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’m not interested in your property, man. I’m just here to make a little extra cash.”

His eyes study mine for a minute before he nods. “Sure. Just wanted to establish some rules before I left.” He starts to walk away but stops and turns. “Anything on Donovan?”

“Nothing. He’s pissed but business as usual.”

He beams at me. “Perfect.”

I sip my coffee, my eyes never leaving him, and watch as he punches in some numbers on his phone. “Tell her I’ll be back in an hour,” he instructs before storming from the kitchen.

“Yep.” My voice is disinterested. Uncaring. Yet my skin is crawling and my jaw is clenching hard enough to break my teeth.

Leaning my hip on the counter, I blow at the steamy liquid as if that’s my focus. But what I’m absolutely aware of is Logan. The sound of his zipper as he dons his coat in the other room. A jingle of his keys. Heavy thuds through the house. A creak of the front door and then a slam. Flitting my eyes up, I watch him stride out to his car. His phone is still in hand as he intently stares at whatever is on his screen. When he finally shoves it back in his pocket once he’s in his vehicle, and starts the car, I let out a breath of relief.

As soon as his car turns out onto the road, I set my coffee down and exit the kitchen. With calculated steps, I make my way over to one of the holes in the wall. My gaze drifts down the hallway and I try not to think about what he did to her last night. If there weren’t cameras everywhere, I know I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from going to her. And God only knows the kind of wakeup call I’d end up giving her.

“Nadia?” I call out, knowing the cameras don’t pick up sound. “It’s about to get loud in here.”

No response.

Not a squeak of the wood floors.

Nothing.

With a sigh, I pull on a piece of drywall that is damaged. It doesn’t move easy but needs to be replaced. The hammer sits on top of the toolbox. I should get to work but the whole house is oddly too quiet.

“I hope you like ACDC,” I call out.

Silence.

And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t niggle at me. I want to see her. She’s a fucked up mystery to me and I like peeling away at her layers like one would fuss over sunburned skin after a few days. I want to pick and pick and pick until she’s raw. Exposed and revealed. Mysteries solved.

My eyes flit over to the camera in the corner. I clutch onto the drywall and give it a yank. It tears off with a loud noise that cuts through the quietness.

“For fuck’s sake,” I complain as I toss the piece of wall into the floor.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I stride quickly down the hall. When I reach the master bedroom, I frown to see it empty. My eyes fall on a wooden, medieval-looking piece that wasn’t here yesterday. It has a larger hole cut out in the center and two smaller ones on either side of the hole. A sickness washes over me knowing he probably put her in that thing. Logan seems like one of those fucked-up doms who’s into all sort of creepy sexual acts. Probably making up for having a small dick or something, the bastard.

With a grunt, I walk back over to the guest room. The sun shines in through the window and blankets her bare skin.
I knew she’d be naked.
Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who sleeps in pajamas, not that Logan is the kind of guy who would let her. But what confuses is me is why she’s sleeping in the guest room.

“Trouble on the home front?” I bark out.

She jerks in bed and sits up, drawing the covers to her chin, further denying me a view of her perky breasts. “What are you doing here?”

Her dark hair is wild and messy. My fingers twitch to smooth it out. Gritting my teeth, I motion toward the splintered door frame. “Gaping holes in your walls? Ring any bells? The hardware store will be delivering some Sheetrock and two-by-fours later this afternoon. Until then, I’m going to tear down the old stuff.”

She nods and her eyes dart behind me in a frantic way. “Where’s Logan?”

I flash her a wicked smile. “He left…about ten minutes ago. We’re all alone.”

Her eyes widen and she waves me away. “I need to get dressed. Did he say anything?”

“Said he’d be back in an hour.”

She shrieks and sits up on her knees. “Go! I need to hurry.”

Frowning, I turn from her and leave the room. But as soon as I hear the bed squeaking, I peek my head back inside.

Big mistake.

She bares her big round ass to me on the way to the bathroom. Long, dark hair hangs in disheveled waves about halfway down her back. When my eyes decide to leave her ass, I notice the marks all over her backside.

Tons of them.

Small cuts have been sliced into her flesh all over. I’m still gaping when she shuts the bathroom door, effectively cutting off my view. With a huff, I run my fingers through my hair and pace the hallway for a minute to compose myself.

What the fuck does he do to her?

Why in the hell does she endure it?

I stalk back toward the living room and let the rage flood me. Once I’ve turned on some Aerosmith and laid out some protective sheeting on the floor, I begin my demo and let the screams of the lyrics fuel me on. Picking up my hammer, I start smashing the already ruined Sheetrock and yanking it from the studs. It feels good to take my anger out on the wall but it would feel fucking satisfying as hell to take it out on Logan’s face instead. I’m lost in my haze of fury, so when she passes by in a nervous rush, I don’t even glance up. It isn’t until the heavenly scent of something fucking delicious fills the air, that I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and set down my hammer.

Dust fills the living room and broken pieces of Sheetrock are all over the plastic sheet. My heart still thumps angrily but I’m calming down. I’m about to go demand answers from Nadia when something beyond the studs has me halting.

“What the fuck?” I mutter as I reach inside the wall and touch a huge-ass pipe.

I’ve been remodeling houses ever since college, despite having joined the force. I have brought them down to the studs and then worked my magic, recreating something better. Not once have I seen something like this.

I run my fingers over the dark grey pipe. It’s icy cold to the touch. Biggest fucking pipe I’ve ever seen. Instead of the typical PVC pipes in every home I’ve ever worked in, this thing is thick, corrugated galvanized steel. They don’t even sell this shit in the hardware stores. It has to be twenty inches in diameter.

Who the hell needs a pipe that fucking big?

And for what?

I wipe the dust from my fingers on my jeans and follow my nose into the kitchen. Nadia looks normal and composed in a fitted pair of jeans and T-shirt. She’s always dressed nicely but today she seems comfortable. She’s piled her hair up on top of her head in one of those messy buns and her ass jiggles every time she stirs the pot on the stove. Her head bobs to the music that’s playing in the living room and I can’t help but smile. One of her only redeeming qualities is she shares a love for seventies rock like me. Looks like Donovan did something right in raising her. Forced his music on her like he used to force on me all those years ago. But with thoughts of Donovan, other depressing memories press at me. I shake my head and focus on why I’m here, chasing away sadness that eats at my black heart.

“What happened to your back?” I question, leaning my hip against the counter beside the stove where she’s cooking.

Her eyes briefly flit to mine and they’re almost black. She flips her wrist to check the time and continues stirring. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I raise an eyebrow at her and close the distance between us. Her attention is still on the cooking meal, and I gently run my fingers down her spine. When she winces, I pull my fingers away. “This is what I mean,” I tell her with a grumble. “Tell me.”

She shudders for a moment. But then, she squares her shoulders and turns to face me. Her dark brows furrow and she frowns.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa,” she snaps.

My eyes fall to her lips. “Huh?”

She rolls her eyes and starts to turn away, but I grab her by the wrist and don’t let go.

“Tell me, sweet Jayne.”

“Stop calling me that.” The anger in her eyes fades and she bites on her lower lip. “What, you need me to spell it out for you? He’s kinky. What can I say?”

I slide my hand around the side of her throat and draw her to me. She’s snared in my heated gaze as I bring my lips close to hers. The intensity in her eyes has alerted my cock and I’m craving more than breakfast right now.

“He’s beyond kinky. Logan is abusive,” I remind her, my hot breath tickling her lips. “Is he ever
not
an asshole to you?”

She starts to speak, probably in his defense, but I silence her by sliding my tongue in her mouth. Her fingers are fisted in my T-shirt and I can’t tell if she is about to push me away or pull me closer. Quite frankly, I don’t care which it is. Our kiss is brought to an abrupt halt, though, when my phone rings. With a groan, I pull away from her and take the call.

“What are you doing?” Logan’s voice demands.

I roll my eyes and grab a Coke from the refrigerator. “Getting a drink and trying to figure out what the fuck Nadia is cooking,” I say truthfully as I peer over her shoulder. It smells awesome but it doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever tasted before. “Why?” I purposefully walk slowly out of the kitchen and back over to where I was tearing out the wall.

“No reason.”

“Do you need to speak to her?”

“No,” he clips out. “I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. See you soon.”

I shrug my shoulders as if I’m confused by his call, for his camera viewing benefit, but seethe with rage. He’s all-out unleashed when it comes to Nadia, unabashedly so. I’ve never seen Chief act this way before. Back when Taylor and I used to hang out at his house as teens, I’d sometimes see Logan there with Donovan. His behavior had always seemed a little erratic, even back then, before he was well off. He was good looking, cocky, and confident. All things that I was
not
, so I just chalked it up to that and the sense of superiority that it surely brought with it. Taylor liked him, so I put up with him for my best friend’s benefit. Then, after I began working at the precinct, I’d actually been impressed with his police skills. He runs the police department like a well-oiled machine. It’s admirable and I’d looked up to him.

But now that I have an inside peek into his life as an adult, I know the superior exterior is just that—a cover. The monster who’s marrying Nadia has been putting on a pretty damn good show for everyone. He’s not just an incredibly jealous motherfucker. He’s more.

“Nadia,” I call out, my back to the camera as I pretend to measure the space. “Logan’s a fucking lunatic. I’ll figure out what the fuck’s going on around here.”

Something clatters in the kitchen and she curses up a storm in Spanish. She doesn’t respond but instead hurries to finish breakfast. I narrow my eyes at the thick pipe once more and scratch the scruff growing in on my jawline with the end of my tape measurer.

I will find out what the fuck is going around here.

With her help or not.

“She must really feel bad about that haircut,” Rhodes snickers as he sips on the shitty draft beer at The Joint. “My wife hardly ever lets me get a beer with the guys.”

And by guys, he means me. Ashley has Jason Rhodes’ balls in an iron vise. Sometimes she plays the nice wife and releases her clutch on him. Other times, guilt motivates her. Based on the shitty haircut she gave me earlier at their place, I’d say she’s feeling really fucking guilty. Looks like I’ll have to let Regina suck my cock after all just so she’ll make me look halfway decent again.

“You’re pussy-whipped, Rhodes.”

He chuckles and clinks his glass to mine. “I’ve been called worse. Speaking of worse, did you hear that Chief canned Stokes today? Lena said it got ugly as hell. She texted Ashley and said Stokes was pissed. Said everyone thought he was going to get himself arrested by the way he raged around the precinct like a bull.”