Page 30 of Ruthless Rebel

The call cutting off resumes the silence surrounding me and Ash, and in the distance I see his car just a few yards from the road. I wish I had a reason for him to stay with me, his silent presence just as calming as Logan’s, yet I know without Elle and Cassie he has no reason to come to the house, and with no work over the weekend, I won’t see him now until Monday.

When I stop the car I expect him to move right away, but he doesn’t, and when I turn to look at him I find him already watching me. For the first time since I have known him I see something other than loathing and lusting in his stare, but I don’t know what it is.

“Logan doesn’t know how you spend your evenings when you aren’t with him?” He asks, and I don’t know why I didn’t expect this line of questioning from him, but surely he realizes that the only person who knows about the men I kill, is him.

“There are a lot of things that he doesn’t know about me.”

I don’t know why I haven’t told Logan, and not just him, but my brothers and Elle too, but I just can’t bear to think about what they would say, and I don’t think any of them would understand how or why I need this, but for some reason I know Asher does. Not that he’s ever said that, and he isn’t going to say it now, instead he looks at me in defeat, before opening his car door and slipping out.

I await the slam of it but instead he leans down and says, “Just because we were molded in the darkness doesn’t mean we have to stay living in it, Lincoln. If you want things to work with Logan then you need to let him all the way in, because if you break his heart I will never forgive you.” The words have barely registered in my brain before he steps back, and the slam I was waiting for finally comes, closing me in the car with the sentiment andthreat he just left behind.

Yet all I can do is rejoice in the admission he just let slip without realizing.

Asher Donovan cares, and if that isn’t a win, I don’t know what is.

13

ASHER

One hundred and four hours and seventeen minutes, that’s how long it’s been since my daughter left to head to the other side of the world without me. One hundred and four hours since I have felt like my heart has been walking around outside of my chest, out of sight, and beyond my protection. I mean, if I am being honest with myself, I have felt like that since the second I found out she existed, and if I am being more honest with myself, I have felt like that ever since the night I was held down and forced to watch the night she was even created.

Bile rises in my throat at the memory, just like every time I recall that night, and I take a deep breath in through my nose, as I focus my gaze out of the window onto the tarmac. I’ve been sitting on the plane for almost twenty-minutes and there is still no sign of Lincoln, not that he should be here yet, I am almost an hour early, but that hasn’t stopped me from staring at the door in annoyance about his lack of presence.

After checking in at the office this morning with Eliza, and going over some last minute stuff for while I’m away, I noticed that Lincoln never appeared from his office. Not that I was waiting forhim or anything, yet still I felt on edge as I headed back to my penthouse to grab my stuff, and made my way here, to the private airport that Zack owns. The flight crew gave me a wide berth, as I Interrupted their preparations and stomped up the stairs without a word, and took my seat to wait for the one remaining passenger.

I haven’t seen Lincoln since he dropped me at my car in the woods the other night, and for some reason I thought he might have come looking for me over the weekend, but he didn’t. I’m not sure why that bothers me, and with no excuse to be at the house without Cassie or Elle there I didn’t seek him out in return. My plan to corner him on Friday night, about the murders, went up in flames when he walked back to his car without a trace of any crimes committed, but that isn’t what stopped me short. No, it was the sight of him completely and utterly naked without a care in the world. I mean, what the fuck was he thinking just striding through the woods naked in the middle of the night? Anyone could have come across him like that. That thought only angers me more, as my fingers tighten around my already bouncing knees, in anticipation of his arrival and the flight we have ahead.

I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t realize how much time has passed, but I sense his presence as soon as he ascends the stairs onto the plane. The tension lining my entire body only increases as he steps through the door and locks eyes with me. He doesn’t look surprised to already find me here, despite him arriving early himself. In fact, when he spots me, he smirks, as if he expected nothing less. He shares what I am sure are pleasantries with the two flight attendants, before moving to take a seat right across from me, forgoing the vacant seats on the other side of the aisle.

“Now I see why our lovely crew are sotense, have you been causing trouble already, Dark Prince?” He muses, staring at me with that insufferable smirk still in place.

“Don’t start with me, Blackwell,” I spit, and his grin only widens.

“Why? Are you good at finishing?” He asks, the innuendo not lost on me in the slightest, and I grit my teeth to bite back any retort.

With us both now present and seated, one of the flight attendants quickly runs through the safety procedures with us, and the stops we will be making, while the other secures the rest of the cabin ready for takeoff. With every passing second my tension only increases, until I feel like my entire body might explode, and it’s only made worse with Lincoln’s lingering stare never straying from me, as he assesses my every move.

By the time the engines start up, my heart is thundering in my chest, and I am struggling to catch my breath, and he stares at me knowingly. “You’re scared of flying.” It’s not a question, yet still I take a deep breath as I grant him with a response.

“I don’t like feeling out of control, putting my life in somebody else’s hands,” I breathe, as my fingers dig into my knees even harder, until all I can focus on is the pain of my grip.

I don’t bother adding that it comes from the days where my father and Greg would beat me out of the blue for sport, before I was old enough to fight back, or from the nights I was aware of all the girls they were hurting, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Yet I’m sure he sees the invisible scars across my body all the same. After all, he was the one to patch me up after the last beating I ever took because of them. That’s if we don’t include the bullet I took that was meant for Elle.

As always, there isn’t a hint of pity in his eyes as he looks at me, forcing a smile to his face. “Of course, as if the almighty Asher Donovan would ever be satisfied with anything as simple as his ownpilot and a private jet,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t put it past you to barge in there and demand to fly us there yourself, not that it would matter, because even if we were to plunge to our untimely deaths, you’d still sweet talk the devil out of taking your soul.” He leans forward, bringing our knees together until they are almost touching, as his hand lands on mine, “It’s okay to be afraid though,” he adds, but I am already snatching away my arm from beneath his touch in a panic.

“Please don’t touch me,” I spit, and his hand recoils in shock, before he regains his composure from my outburst and retracts back into his seat.

“Sorry, I forget that some people get weird about that kind of thing,” he mutters, looking embarrassed, and for the first time, my attention slips from my impending flight to him.

“What kind of thing?” I snap, and he sighs, glancing at the flight attendants who have now taken their seats for takeoff, before coming back to me.

“About someone who is gay touching them,” he grimaces slightly as he says that, and I know he must be recalling the other times he has come close to touching me, about the taunts he and Logan have fired my way, and I don’t know the words to convey what I truly mean.

“Your sexual orientation doesn’t bother me, Lincoln,” I sigh, his name rolling off my tongue easier than it should, and I swear I see his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “I just don’t like to be touched, by anyone,” I add, not really wanting to get into the reasons why, my past left buried, but I should have known that it wouldn’t be that simple with him, nothing ever is.

I watch as he turns my words over in his mind, twisting them every way he can no doubt, until finally I can’t stand it any longer, and snap, “What?”

“It’s just,” he starts, pausing slightly as if trying to decide his next words carefully, before he blurts, “How do you fuck?” As the words leave his mouth, he reaches out to swipe one of the unopened bottles of water off the table, as if he just needs to do something with his hands, twisting it open and taking a deep drink.

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