Page 38 of White Wings of Desire

Putting down my glass, I push open the door and leave the room, where I find her crouching, barefoot, next to the shattered lamp, trying to pick up the pieces. At the sound of my approaching footsteps on the wooden floor, her head snaps up in my direction, and she jumps back to her feet. I see the panic on her face with her eyes wide open. Like a deer caught in the headlights. Her hair is tangled from tossing in the sheets, and the satin rope of her matching nightgown is loose and slips off her shoulders, pulling down the thin straps of the short dress as well.

"Are you all right?" I ask, stepping into the broken glass with my shoes on, squatting down in front of her, and checking her feet for any injuries.

"Yes, I'm sorry for interrupting you two," she says.

I stand back up after making sure she's really not hurt, cup her cheeks in my hands, and plant a kiss on her lips. I steal a glance at her exposed collarbone. If Kyle wasn't in my office, I'd drag her to bed and fuck her, but that'll have to wait. Hooking my fingers into the thin straps, I pull them back up over her shoulders, adjusting the rope to cover more of her chest. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Sort of."

"All right, go back to bed, Dove. I’ll be there in a few minutes with some hot tea, okay?"

"That sounds wonderful," she says with a nod and turns around, hurrying back to the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

I grunt at Kyle's weight crushing down on me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

"Pretty little girl you got there. Do you share?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shove him off me. "Please, just leave. I'll call you if I need anything."

Chapter 29

Evelyn

I sit on the big, cozy sofa in the living room with my new pink fluffy blanket that smells like lavender. A sitcom on the TV is playing in the background and fills the silence of the big house while I stare at the text message from Lily on my phone. Noah gave it back to me a few days ago, saying he trusts me enough to use it when he isn’t around. Before that, I was only allowed to use it under his supervision to keep me from calling the cops or anyone from the group I used to work for. I did contact Riley once upon his demand to tell her that I was safe and that we didn't have to worry about the Dove Killer anymore, and I answered any questions she had while he was right next to me.

I sigh.

My problem right now is Lily. I've been canceling our weekly brunch for the past couple of weekends with the same lame excuse that I want to spend time with my new boyfriend. So far, she has been very supportive, and teases me about the rose-colored glasses, saying that I should enjoy my time with him. Still…even through texts, I can tell she’s starting to get upset about how I am avoiding her because of my boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

My boyfriend.

Ever since I first called him that to my friends, I've been pondering the title. Does our current relationship even fit a label? Could our morbid situation somehow be a twisted version of a serious relationship? My head lolls back into the headrest of the sofa and I let out a throaty groan. Do I really want him to be more than just the man who holds me hostage in order to protect me, when in fact he is the one I need to be protected from?

My heart aches with every beat that pumps the blood through my body, joined by the fluttering sensation that spreads through my abdomen like a swarm of butterflies at the possibility of us being more than what we really are.

I look down the hall. Noah is nowhere to be seen or heard. He disappeared into the basement about an hour ago, saying he had to take care of some things. Maybe he would let me meet Lily if I asked him to join us. It's not ideal. I would rather keep him far away from her, but he could keep an eye on me that way. While he trusts me enough with my phone, I can't blame him for not trusting me to let me go out by myself and come back to his place. Except for that one time when I got my period, he won't even leave me home alone. During the day, he only leaves when Mrs. Collins is here, and even though I could just leave when I'm alone with her, I don't. Isn't that a big sign that he can trust me? And the few nights when he was gone because of his job, the same black Chevrolet was parked in the driveway from when his friend had stopped by that night. I was tempted to just ask the man to come in and meet him because I felt sorry for him being stuck in his car until four in the morning when Noah finally got home. But he is also a hitman, and Noah will have his reasons for letting him watch me from the driveway instead of allowing him in.

"Dove, do you have a minute?" His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I find him standing in the doorway of the living room. The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled up, the first 3 buttons are undone, and his suit pants are fitted perfectly. He really drives me crazy getting dressed up like that every day because he looks so handsome.

"Sure." I kick the blanket out of my way and stand up, hugging my silk rope close as I walk over to him. While he gets dressed up every day, I stick to my comfortable nightwear. I see no reason to change in the morning when I'm not allowed to leave the house anyway. And he doesn't seem to care. I think he even likes it. His hand rests on the small of my back, and he guides me to the door that leads to the basement, which I thought was off-limits to me. He pushes it open and heads down the stairs, waiting for me at the bottom.

"Are you coming?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer, and hurry down the steep stairs, bumping into him.

My eyes widen once I reach the bottom and, for the first time, see the room that has always been locked.

As expected, he keeps all his weapons down here. Some are displayed on the wall, while others are locked in the safes lining the walls. In the middle of the room is a large table with a disassembled pistol on it, along with all the tools he needs to clean it. Upon closer inspection, I recognize the pistol; it’s mine. My eyes land on my gun case sitting on a chair beside the table. He went to my apartment to get my stuff and…clean it? Why?

He walks over to the table, pulls on his black nitrile gloves, and picks up a piece of my pistol. I follow him, and hold on to the edge of the table, watching exactly what he is doing. "Why are you cleaning my pistols?"

"Because they needed it, and because there is a small chance that you might want to use one soon."

"What do you mean?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and look up at him.

"I did some research of my own on Mr. Williams," he says, and my heartbeat quickens. I keep my mouth shut and listen to what he has to say. "He knew what his son was doing, sponsored it, and ensured there would be no legal repercussions for his son or the other people involved." My knuckles are turning white from my grip on the table. I have to take a deep breath to calm the anger building up inside me. Of course, his daddy knew everything and tried his best to protect his little boy. I guess they just didn't expect someone to go as far as hiring a professional killer.

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