Page 28 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“So, no.” She smiled.

“Go home.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Actually, wait a minute. I’ve been debating if I should say anything. I don’t know how to address it because, on the one hand, I hate Mr. Stone for involving you today. He should’ve called me and kept you out of this, but I saw the blood at the blast sites and the twisted door.God, I helped you lie about it because I realize he rescued that boy. It terrifies me that Michael would’ve died if not for him, and I suspect he brought you because you’re the only person he trusts with his secrets. Then, on the other hand, he has saved you more than once, so I can’t hate him. But Emerson, are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you sure you understand who you’re letting into your life?”

Bel froze, unsure how to answer that question because she did understand who she’d let infiltrate her mind, her heart, her very being.

“Listen, I’m not your father,” Griffin continued. “I can’t tell you who to interact with in your personal time, but I worry about you. I care. Lord knows I care, and I don’t want you to travel down a path you can’t return from. I couldn’t forgive myself if I said nothing and let this man consume you alive. He’s rich and powerful. He owns half the town, and when Abel kidnapped you, he forced his way onto the investigation. I’m worried how much his charm and influence might force onto you, especially since you were once so convinced of his guilt.”

“There are things I can’t tell you,” Bel said. “They aren’t my secrets to tell.”

“And I don’t want to know. Really, I don’t. What I want is you safe, and not just physically. You’ve been through a lot, and I won’t let this man destroy you.”

“Eamon Stone is many things, but a threat isn’t one of them,” Bel said. “He is not the villain, not in my story, at least. It means everything to me knowing that you care this much, but Eamon isn’t someone you should be afraid of. He would die before letting something happen to me.”

Griffin squinted at her, as if shocked by the vehemence of her conviction. “I hope that’s the truth. And I hope you know you can always come to me. I may not have millions, but I’m here for you.”

“I know. You’re a good boss and an even better man.”

“All right, that’s enough,” he teased, patting her arm. “Go home, and I’ll take it from here.”

“Call me if something happens?”

“I always do.”

A bone-deep wearinessovertook Bel the moment she unlocked her front door, and as Cerberus leaped and danced about the hardwood floor, guilt joined her fatigue. He’d been cooped up inside all day, and her best friend deserved a walk, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of wandering into the darkness. The Darling’s initial hostility. The missing boys. The traps. Eamon almost dying. It all came crashing down on her, and all she could manage was a quick pee break and some dry food in his bowl. Eternally happy, Cerberus didn’t seem to mind her lethargy, content to simply have her home, and Bel watched him eat as she ate cold leftovers over her sink. She couldn’t even bring herself to microwave the pasta, but it tasted well enough straight out of the fridge. With a kiss to her dog’s meaty head when she finished the last bite, she vanished into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and stepped into a scalding shower.

For a half hour, she did nothing but stand under the spray. While she was thankful that her dog was there to guard her, the sudden absence of human companionship brought the events of the day rushing back. The re-lived trauma of being chained in Abel’s basement gripped her when she saw Michael on the surveillance. The indescribable fear she felt when her foot landed on the IED’s pressure plate. For those horrible seconds before Eamon saved her, she believed that was how she would die; blown to pieces in front of the man who’d just confessed hislove for her. For as long as she lived, she would never forget the way his body slammed into hers to save her from the blast, how he’d used his own flesh and blood as a shield. She understood why Griffin was wary of Eamon. She’d been afraid of him once, but her fear had changed. She was no longer scared of him but for him, because today confirmed that if it came down to it, Eamon would die in her stead. She could never tell people why she trusted him so fiercely. They wouldn’t understand. They would always view him as evil, but she knew the truth. Eamon Stone had been forced to hurt her at their first meeting, and he was determined to spend the rest of his life repaying that debt.

The water’s heat dulled, and Bel rushed through her bathing routine, stepping out of the no longer steamy shower to wrap her body in a towel. She opened the bathroom door and took one step into her single-room cabin when she stopped short, fear electrocuting her heart for a split second before a comforting warmth settled over her.

Freshly showered with still-damp hair, Eamon sat shirtless on her bed, his black boxer briefs revealing his powerful thighs in a way that was borderline criminal. He leaned against her pillows, and an overheated Cerberus panted at the bottom of the mattress. Bel’s eyes flicked to the water bowl in the kitchen with its multitude of splashes and the tennis ball at the front door that had definitely not been there when she got home, and she realized Eamon must have played a rigorous game of fetch with her poor, unexercised dog. She smiled at her stretched-out pitbull, glad someone had given him the outing he deserved, and then her gaze returned to Eamon’s chiseled form. He stared at her without expectations or intent. He simply watched her drink him in, watched her emotions play out on her exhausted face. He was a devil in black, a fallen angel begging her to sin, to taste, to touch in glorious rapture, and she wasn’t sure if it was the stress of the day or his security room confession, butfor a brief moment, Bel pretended nothing existed in this world besides him. Nothing but the way his abs flexed as he shifted his weight to extend one of his clean shirts to her. Nothing but his deep voice and unnaturally sharp canine teeth. Nothing but the hands powerful enough to break every bone in a witch’s body and shatter chains like they were glass, yet held her as if she was a deity demanding worship.

Drawn in by his gravity, Bel accepted his oversized shirt and slipped it over her head, letting the towel fall away only once the fabric covered her still-damp body. She hung the towel on the doorknob before grabbing underwear from the dresser, and when she was done, Eamon pulled back the sheets for her. She wordlessly obeyed, kissing Cerberus’ happy head before sliding into bed, and then Eamon drew her against his bare chest. His arms captured her waist as his face buried in her hair, and he pressed his lips against her neck as they surrendered to the darkness. Bel didn’t think she’d be able to sleep with the man she craved wrapped so intimately around her, but she slipped into oblivion within seconds, her rest without nightmares, as if even her dreams feared angering the beast.

“What areyou doing up so early?” Eamon’s rough voice broke the peaceful morning silence, and Bel turned from her perch before the kitchen sink window. Eamon had been fast asleep when she woke, so she’d brewed a pot of vanilla coffee, content to watch him and her pitbull sprawled across the bed. Her mattress was entirely too small for the three of them, yet the night had been perfect. Sandwiched between her two men, she’d woken a sweaty but happy mess, so she’d escaped to make coffee, loving the way one of Eamon’s legs hung out of thetangled sheets and how Cerberus had moved to plop his meaty skull on the man’s abs. They both looked so different in sleep. Younger, softer, more innocent. She could wake like this for the rest of her life and never tired of Eamon’s half-naked body twisted in her blankets, her dog delighted to snuggle whoever would let him.

“My internal alarm went off,” she answered. “I haven’t heard from Griffin, which means they haven’t found John. I realize he and Gold are more than capable, but it’s hard to relax when you’re safe at home while a child is in danger.”

“I’m worried too.” Eamon pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, the sheets falling off his chest, and he smirked when Bel’s eyes dipped to savor his form. “I knew their father. Knew how much he loved them. I feel like I’m failing him by being unable to help.” He extended his hand, and Bel surrendered to his gravity, climbing onto the mattress to straddle his powerful thighs.

“Wendy will welcome me back to the house,” he continued, his voice suddenly rough as he gripped her hips. He held her tight as she clutched her coffee mug with both hands, and Bel swore he could see her heart thundering in her chest. For a moment, they didn’t move. They simply hovered on the edge of the abyss, their closeness both too much yet not enough. Their bare thighs burned against each other. His fingers held her hips as if it was her soul, as if he owned every part of her, but it was the look in his eyes that ignited her. It wasn’t lust, even though desire coursed through his aura like lightning in a summer storm. No, it was pure, unfathomable love. He didn’t move beyond holding her in his lap, and she understood why. He’d already fallen off that cliff. He adored her. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, with every dark intention and honorable wish, but she hadn’t followed him into that oblivion. She hadn’t given him permission to take what he wanted, to steal her breathand voice and mouth. To pin her to this mattress below him and claim her heart, her future, her very soul. So, he studied her instead, his stillness gifting her the knowledge that she was always safe in his arms, always respected, worshiped, craved.

“How about I make you breakfast, and then we take Cerberus for a walk?” He broke the charged silence as he took the mug from her fists and drained half the coffee before handing it back to her. “Then if you haven’t heard from the sheriff, we’ll drive over. You can blame your presence on me insisting I return for the family, and you needing to watch over my recklessness. Sound good?” Bel nodded as she sipped her coffee, her heart racing as her lips touched the spot on the mug where his had just been, and Eamon leaned forward to wrap her in his embrace. His forehead rested on her chest, and Bel hugged his head close. His hair still smelled like his shampoo, and she breathed in deeply, loving the scent of him.

“Normally I’m the one smelling you,” he chuckled, his lips tickling her as he spoke, and he took an exaggerated inhale, burying his face in her chest until she laughed. “Sleeping next to you painted your scent on my skin. It’s torture. Pure, unrelenting torture.” He lowered his arms to her thighs and hoisted her into the air as he climbed out of bed. “Which brings me back to our conversation yesterday, even if it feels like years ago.” He deposited her on the kitchen counter between the coffee pot and the stove, and Bel refilled her mug as he walked to the fridge. “I still don’t know why you won’t live with me.”

“My scent tortures you, so I should live with you,” she smirked as he located the ingredients to make French toast. “Makes perfect sense.”

“It does, my little detective.” He winked at her. He didn’t bother to pour himself a mug of coffee, comfortable to share Bel’s cup instead, and as he fried the aromatic toast alongside a small pan of plain scrambled eggs for her pitbull, she couldn’thelp but agree with him. They existed in such harmony. Sharing the same coffee mug, loving the same animal, existing in the same meaningful silence. The entire time he cooked, he held on to her. A broad, intoxicating hand on her bare thigh as he flipped the toast. His head leaning against her shoulder as he dipped the bread into the batter. The only sounds were the frying breakfast and Cerberus’ anxious toes on the hardwood. His runny eggs finished long before their food, but Eamon made the poor pup wait until their meal was ready, and then with a flourish that had Bel laughing, he set the dog bowl on the floor.

With piggy grunts and enthusiastic enjoyment, the pitbull devoured his breakfast before they could even pour the syrup over theirs, but he licked the bowl for another five minutes for good measure as Eamon sliced the French toast. Bel expected him to portion out the meal and set it on the table, but instead, he handed her a fork, making it clear he intended for them to eat from the same plate just as they’d shared the coffee. It felt symbolic as they both took their first bite, and Eamon shifted his almost naked body between her thighs. It wasn’t a provocative advance, though. It was simply him trying to exist as close to the person he loved as she would allow, and Bel couldn’t stop her free arm from wrapping softly around his neck. They ate locked together as one, sharing the same plate, the same coffee, the same air, and as he wiped syrup from her lips, Bel knew. There was no fighting him anymore. No fighting her own heart. This was what she wanted. Eamon and her dog and mornings like this for as long as she lived. They didn’t have a normal relationship. They were from different walks of life, and on paper, they made no sense. She should be afraid of him. She should hate him for the scars on her throat, but she couldn’t hate him. She never would, and she needed him to know.

With hesitant fingers, she cupped his jaw and pressed her forehead against his. Her heart thrashed within her breast, andher voice suddenly felt too small, too weak for this confession, so she leaned forward, hoping her lips would confess what her words couldn’t. Only a breath of air existed between them, a fraction of space, but just as she was about to close the gap, her phone rang.

Bel jerked back in surprise, eyes flying to where her cell sat charging, and Eamon grabbed her hips and pulled her off the counter, the moment vanishing as both of them realized what that ringing meant.

“Emerson?” Griffin’s voice greeted her as she answered on the second ring, his rough tone sending fear through her. “We found Peter Pann’s abandoned car.”

They scrambled into action,taking turns dressing in the bathroom, and while Eamon took Cerberus outside, Bel packed an overnight bag. It took the pair fifteen minutes to get ready, and Bel was thankful Eamon made sure she ate. He enjoyed feeding her and her dog, and she was grateful that someone forced her to eat actual food and not station coffee and vending machine chips during a case. She was also thankful that when he’d arrived at her cabin last night, he’d had the foresight to stop at an electronics store for replacement phones. He had already set hers up when she checked it this morning, and while she should’ve been worried that he managed to tie her new and expensive cell to her current plan without her being present, shefound herself unable to care considering everything else going on.

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