Page 72 of Owning Nicci

I quickly give the driver the address to get us to the cabin, and the SUV peels out of the treeline, the gunshots still echoing as we drive away.

Mr. Armand has started to curse in French, interspersed with pleas and attempts to bargain, and I look at Jonas.

“Shut him up,” I order, and Jonas pulls a small leather pouch out of his pocket, removing a syringe. In a matter of minutes, Mr. Armand is entirely silent.

With that silence comes the inability to quiet my own thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about Nicci, how just hours ago I had her in my arms.

How I want her there again, and again—for as many nights as I can. With her father and brother dead, she’ll have no reason of her own to stay—and I don’t have the heart, any longer, to keep her a prisoner.

I’ve gone from claiming her as mine to wanting her to be, and I have no idea how to make her see the future that, last night, I was able to see for us both.

The sky is beginning to grey when the SUV pulls up to the cabin. Jonas and the other men help me get Mr. Armand and his son to the shed down the hill, where I’ve strung up two meathooks on chains through the rafters. First the son, and then the father are dragged up—their bound wrists looped over the hooks, left dangling there with their toes just brushing the wooden floor.

“Found the son balls-deep in some woman upstairs,” one of the men chuckles. “Yanked him right off of her. Whatever he did, hope it warranted getting hauled off right in the middle of it.”

“It did.” I clench my teeth, looking at the two unconscious men. “And safe to say he won’t be using his cock ever again after tonight.”

“Shit.” The man whistles through his teeth. “Well, are we good here? Jonas? Boss?” He glances at me, and I nod.

“We’re good. Get going. I don’t want anyone else on the property except me and Nicci for the rest of the day.”

Jonas gives me a quick, respectful nod, following the other men out. I watch from the door of the shed as they leave, standing there until I can no longer see the SUV heading down the mountainous road. Then I turn to walk back to the cabin.

It’s time to go tell Nicci about her surprise.

29

NICCI

Iwake to find Savio gone.

The sharp sense of disappointment that I feel startles me. I’d expected to find him here in bed, curled against me. I’d expected to wake up to his hard cock pressed against my back and his voice whispering in my ear, asking if I can take it again as he nudges it between my thighs.

Instead, the other side of the bed is empty. I shift, wincing at the soreness that runs through every part of me—particularly concentrated in my shoulder and between my thighs. Even all the times that Savio’s fucked me before this, he’s never left me this sore.

And he left me a mess. My thighs are covered in his cum from last night. I groan as I push the covers back, feeling every muscle in my body protest as I start to sit up. I have no idea where he went, but I desperately want a shower. So I’m going to have to do the best I can.

I reach down, fumbling for one of the discarded towels from last night, and wrap it around myself as I stand up. I’m not sure why I feel the instinct to cover myself—it’s not as if Savio isn’tintimately familiar with every part of my body by now—but I feel like I need some kind of shield against what happened last night.

What the fuck was I thinking? Why did I let that happen?My chest tightens at the memory of it as I force myself to my feet and down the hall to the shower, with still no sign of Savio. Last night wasn’t just different from any other time I’ve been with Savio. It was different from any other time I’ve had sex, ever. I’ve never felt anything like that—that kind of pleasure, of intimacy, oftenderness. It felt like something more than just lust. And it fucking terrifies me, because I want more of it.

Last night, from the moment Savio got into the shower with me until we both fell asleep, I felt like someone was seeing me for the first time. Like I was being seen at my most helpless, my most vulnerable—and wanted all the same.

I felt, for the first time…loved.

No. That’s not possible.I shake my head in a sharp, jerking motion, turning on the shower as I blink back the burning sensation in my eyes. Savio doesn’t love me, and I don’t love him. I can’t.Hecan’t. It would undo everything I’ve believed up to this point, everything that I have planned for what comes next. I have no contingency plan for falling in love with the enemy…or for him falling for me.

How could I love him, after everything?The answer to that is simple—because Savio is broken just like me, only in different ways. He acted on the pain he felt, just as I have. We’ve both done terrible things, and I can’t judge him without judging myself.

But I do judge myself for what I’ve done, every day. And I can’t deliver the bullet that I have saved for Savio if I let myself love him…or believe that he loves me in return.

I step into the shower, doing my best to wash myself. My shoulder protests with every movement, but I manage. I scrubmyself clean and then just stand under the water for a little while, letting the heat soften my sore muscles.

Just as I’m stepping out of the shower and awkwardly starting to dry off, I hear the sound of the back door opening and closing, and footsteps downstairs.

Fear jolts through me for a brief moment, but it must be Savio. He promised me that this place was safe, that no one knew about it, and—whether I should or not—I trust him. About that, at least.

I grab the jeans and black t-shirt that I brought with me and manage to get them on, wincing as I tug the t-shirt over my shoulder. I hear Savio’s footsteps on the stairs just as I come out of the bathroom, winding my hair into a low, damp bun with one hand, and I meet him as he reaches the landing.

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