Page 80 of Illicit Obsession

I parked and cut the engine in front of a gorgeous, modern, rustic home. An abundance of trees surrounded the house, and I released a sigh. This place was peaceful and quiet with no expectations . . . yet.

My stepbrother climbed off the motorcycle, and we removed our helmets. He held his hand out, offering to assist me.

I placed my palm in his and looked around. “Where are we?” I asked.

“One of my uncle’s places.”

He grabbed our bags and led us to the entrance. Jag unlocked the front door and waltzed in. I gasped, soaking in the comfort and safety of the blonde redwood floors and open plan. A cozy stone fireplace begged to be used. The worn-in brown leather couch and chairs complimented the living room that opened to the dining and kitchen area. I noticed the staircase to the left and wondered if the bedrooms were upstairs. The minute I stepped into the fortress, I realized I never wanted to leave. Even though we were here under shitty circumstances, this house felt safe and inviting.

Jagger released my hand and dropped his keys on the brown and white granite counter. He ditched his jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen island. “Uncle Gunner will be here soon. He stocked the fridge for us. Are you hungry?”

“Why don’t you let me make you something. If there’s anything good to drink, I’ll take some.” I strolled over to the refrigerator and opened it, peeking inside. “How’s your shoulder feeling? It was a long day. My legs are definitely sore.”

Jagger’s grin lit up his face as he reached into the cabinet to my left. “I can help you with your legs.”

“Promises, promises.” I laughed as I pulled out the turkey breast, cheese, mayonnaise, and tomatoes. “Sandwiches work?”

“Perfect. The shoulder hurts like a bitch after the ride, but I’ll take some Advil and a few shots of whiskey.” He retrieved a bottle of Jim Beam and sat it on the counter. “Is this okay?”

I set the ingredients next to the alcohol, then began to open the other cabinets in search of plates. “I’m not picky at this point. I just want to relax and get our bellies full. Afterward, you have some explaining to do. I love and trust you, it’s why I’m here with you now, but you asked a lot of me to walk away from my friends and school. It’s a good thing you’re worth it.” I winked at him.

He turned to me and closed the gap between us. Jag brushed his knuckles across my cheek, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“I love you, Ari. I’ll fucking move heaven and earth to keep you safe. I lost you once. That shit can’t happen again.” He pressed a kiss to my mouth and I sighed. He stepped away before he opened the cabinet to the right of the refrigerator. “Paper plates. Gunner doesn’t do dishes.”

“What? He has someone wash his dishes?”

“Really, Ari?” Jag laughed. “Have you washed a dish in your entire life? Theo is loaded, and from the first day Mom and I moved into the house, we had a housekeeper. We didn’t even clean our rooms or do laundry.”

“Yeah, well. Okay, we were spoiled, but we still figured it out.” After searching for a knife, I focused on making sandwiches. Jagger picked up a bag of plain potato chips and tossed them on the counter.

“I had to learn to do everything after the fire.” His voice was low, haunted.

Unsure of how to respond, I whipped up our late lunch and watched him make us some stiff drinks.

I replaced the food in the refrigerator, then climbed up on the barstool next to Jagger. He slid my glass to me, and I snatched it up and chugged half of it.

“Damn, girl.” He topped the drink off with more whiskey and coke.

I giggled into my hand before I grabbed the bag of chips. “I’m stressed. I have no idea why we’re here. I can guess, but not having a concrete answer is fucking with my head.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jagger picked up his glass, took a long drink, then replaced it.

“It will make more sense when Gunner and the guys arrive. They can help explain. My uncle sent me a message to meet him here and to bring you. That shit was going down.”

“I assume that you know what he’s referring to.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and an unsettling feeling curled into a tight ball in my stomach.

Jagger was about to respond when the front door opened. Startled, I nearly fell off my seat.

ChapterThirty-Seven

Ariana

Atall, lean guy with sandy-blonde hair and a well-kept beard entered the house. His hazel eyes landed on me, then he grinned. “Ari, it’s been a while. It’s good to see you again.”

“Hi. Thank you for opening your home to us.”

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