Page 36 of In the Shadows

A shiver moves through my body at the memory of the first time I was made to blackmail someone. I never thought I was capable of it, but my father had a unique way of punishing me if I didn’t do as I was told, so it was easier just to do what he said to save myself the pain.

I spot the knife sitting on the cutting board and look over my shoulder as I consider my options. I’m still too weak to take on one of these men, let alone all four of them, but I refuse to let myself be taken to Davenport, and I don’t know that I trust them when they say they’re going to allow me to rise into the position my dad groomed me for.

But if they find me with it before I’m ready to strike, I’m not sure I would survive the altercation. The only way I’m killing any of these men is if I do it with the element of surprise.

I almost miss the footsteps behind me, but although his methods were unconventional, my father taught me to always be aware of my surroundings, especially when there is a potential threat. I don’t know what else you would call the four men that walk these halls, but threat seems as good a description as any.

“What are you doing in here on your own?” Crew’s dark timbre fills the room, and my body immediately reacts to it. The way my lower belly tingles with nervous anticipation whenever he’s near is unhealthy and kind of fucked up. He’s at least twice my age, and I have no right crushing on a man who’s old enough to be my father.

I take a steadying breath and plaster the mask my dad taught me to wear across my face. I may have allowed them to see my weakness before, but now that I’m gaining my strength back, I refuse to cower to them. I throw a glance over my shoulder as I pop another berry between my lips. “Bishop had to take a call. I think he’s in the next room.”

I don’t allow my eyes to linger on the way his charcoal suit hugs his body’s tight lines or how his mismatched eyes flare with interest when I’m near. I’m already in too deep with two of them, I’m not adding another one to the list of problems I’ve made for myself.

Crew rounds the kitchen island I’m propped up at and leans his elbows on the cool granite across from me, assessing me as I pop another berry into my mouth, which gives me something to focus on other than his intense gaze assessing Kovu’s old Metallica shirt hanging off my body and acting like a dress. “You’re looking better.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, looking anywhere but at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

He chuckles, and I can’t help but glance at whatever he’s finding so amusing, but his eyes are still locked on me. “Chatty this morning, aren’t we?”

I sigh and push the bowl away from me, suddenly not enjoying the tart flavors. “Look, I know you’re just in here making small talk with me right now because you don’t trust me on my own, which is fine and probably smart, but if you were interested in how I was feeling, I would have seen you in the last two weeks, which I haven’t. So you don’t need to pretend to give a fuck.”

The words are like acid on my tongue, but I can’t stop them as they spew from my mouth. I’m not even sure I mean them. But all I can hear ringing through my mind are my father’s words.

Hurt them before they can hurt you.

It’s one of the first lessons he ever taught me. One of my earliest memories is of my mother yelling at him the first time he uttered them when I was barely older than six. There was a mean boy in my class who used to hide my things on the playground and push me around. My dad taught me to punch that night, and the next day I got my first suspension. I mean, it didn’t stick, seeing as my family was the biggest benefactor, but that’s how my training really began, long before I even understood what my father did for a living.

Crew considers me, his eyes burning into mine, holding me captive as he assesses my words in a way I should have expected from a man like him. “You’re right.”

My mouth pops open in surprise. “I am?”

He nods. “Yes. I should have come to see how you’re feeling. But you’re wrong about something. I’m not sitting here because I’m keeping an eye on you. I’m sitting here because I want to. This place is filled with so many cameras and hallways and locked doors that there’s no way you could get out of here or snoop effectively.”

“I don’t understand.”

He chuckles and rounds the island. Each step his expensive Italian shoes take makes me consider my escape. I’m slow at the moment. Much slower than I would like to be, so running isn’t a possibility. Not a good one, at least. I could pretend I’m taking my bowl to the sink, but that would mean moving closer to him before getting away. Not a great option.

Before I can come up with any kind of plan, Crew steps into my space, and his scent washes over me. Whiskey and vanilla mingle together in an intoxicating cocktail that takes my breath away. Fuck. Is it legal to smell this good?

He surrounds me with his hard body until I’m pinned between him and the counter, the stool the only thing keeping me from collapsing from his sheer closeness.

“Did you consider why I might be keeping my distance, Little Menace?”

I shake my head, unable to speak when he’s so close. I don’t know if anyone has ever told him how fucking intimidating he is at this proximity, but Jesus.

He drops his face until it’s at the same level as mine, his breath whispering across my cheeks and my heart stutters in my chest. Not for the first time since I woke up, I realize just how in over my head I am. I can barely breathe around this man, let alone think clearly.

I think he’s about to say something, but instead he leans forward, his lips brushing mine in the gentlest caress I could imagine. I didn’t know a man so brutal was capable of such softness.

Another brush of his lips on mine has me fighting with my own body’s need to touch him.

And then he’s retreating. He takes a step back, his normally guarded eyes are wild as he tries to reign in the carefully crafted persona he shows the rest of the world.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you, Camilla,” he murmurs.

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