Standing over him, I snarled, “Tell me one thing, and then I’ll decide what to do with you. Save your life or kill you.”
He smirked. “Oh, better make it a good one, then, seeing as my life hangs in the balance.”
Leveling the gun at his forehead, I whispered, “I know you. I know it deeper and stronger than I know myself. Tell me the truth. How do we know each other?”
Something flickered in his emerald gaze. Something I would’ve given my life to decipher, then the ground swooped from beneath me and painful tile crashed against my spine.
The boom of the gun ricocheted around us as it spat its deadly bullet into the wall. The black weapon skittered away, hiding beneath the desk and out of reach.
Kill wedged me beneath his blood-soaked body, breathing hard and reeking of copper.
In my need to understand I’d gone too close.
Now I was trapped.
Now I was doomed.
Kill bared his teeth, looking wild, unpredictable, and almost insane. “I’ll tell you how we know each other.” His head bent, pressing his lips against my ear. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare and now I’ve got all the power.”
I gasped.
I knew it.
My nightmare.
He said it so himself.
Chapter Four
Who was this woman? This trickster and fraud? I wanted to wring her neck for making me hurt this way, but at the same time, I wanted to tear through her lies and see. See the impossible. Believe in the improbable.
She made me want things I’d sworn never to want.
She made me weak.
She made me hate.
—Kill
“Let me up.”
“What, so you can threaten me with the gun again? You almost spread my brains all over my home.” His grip moved from my hip to my throat. “No fucking chance.”
I glared into his eyes. There was no hint of whatever he’d thought before he tackled me to the ground.
His body was unmovable, his touch warming me as well as searing my skin with proximity.
My heart deflated. It wouldn’t be possible to keep such knowledge from his eyes. There was no way he could hide what he felt when we first met—not when we were glued together. Not when our hearts thundered against each other.
Sadness crippled me.
“You’re bleeding all over me,” I muttered, shoving unsuccessfully against his large, strong chest.
He chuckled. “Gonna do a lot more than that before this is over.”
My heart lodged itself in my throat. “Excuse me?”
He ducked his head, nuzzling into my neck. “I haven’t met anyone like you before. You had the chance to run, but you didn’t. You ask the weirdest fucking questions, and I can’t deny you turn me the hell on.”
Haven’t met anyone like you before…
He was either a brilliant con artist or a master at deception.
He reared back. “Why should I sell you when I want to sample you myself? After all, the order was for five girls, not six.” A cold grin spread his lips. “It’s almost like you were destined to be mine. It must be right—it’s my birthday in a few weeks—you’re my present for dealing with all the shit in my life.”
My world screeched to a stop.
“Your birthday?”
He smirked. “The first of October.”
The world began to spin—only this time in the wrong direction. “You’re a Libra?” I barely breathed.
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked down. His eyes became weapons as he dove past my gaze and into my very soul. I felt him—deep inside—searching, tearing through my unremembered memories—laying havoc to my existence.
“You’re a Libra. I looked up what that means—it was rather interesting.” I smiled over at the boy who held my heart.
He grinned. “Let me guess. I’m a badass, have a raging temper, and intelligent as fuck.”
I giggled, my red hair glinting in the moonlight. “No, you’re diplomatic.”
“Yeah… sure.” He chuckled. “You sure about that with my track record?”
I rolled to face him, tracing his face with my fingers. “You’re graceful.”
He huffed. “On my bike, maybe, but nowhere else.”
“Peaceful.”
He laughed. “Um, biggest lie yet.”
I shook my head, seriousness layering my voice. “You are peaceful. You fight for what you believe in. You fight to protect what’s yours, but in your heart… you’re kind and gentle and not a part of this world.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Same as me.”
He stiffened. The words “I love you” danced in his eyes. We hadn’t said it yet. But I wanted to. Shit, how I wanted to.
My lips twisted into a smile. “You’re also an idealist.”
He nodded, pulling himself back from love and unspoken truths. “Okay, kind of agree with that one.” He nuzzled my neck. “Those all sound pretty good. Any bad traits I should watch out for?”
I sighed, my eyes latching onto his lips. I wanted him to kiss me. So much. “Superficial and vain.”
He huffed dramatically. “Ah, so the perfection ends.” Pressing his body against mine, he murmured, “Pity I agree with them the most.”
The flashback ended, hurling me against the cold tile floor below and the furious man above. I couldn’t see the boy from my past. He’d been obscured—like a hazy lens or faulty photograph.
What was real? What could I believe?
“Why the fuck are you mentioning astrology?” Kill demanded. His fingers wrapped around my throat.
My skin prickled with heat. Every inch he touched set off a bonfire beneath my skin.
“You’re fucking with me. If you think I’ll let you play with my thoughts—” His anger welded with… Was that terror?
The lost look in his eyes came and went, like a dying firefly.
“You’re nothing to me—got it? You don’t know me. You don’t have any power over me. And you certainly can’t mind-fuck me with whatever bullshit you’re trying to pull.” He lowered his lips to my ear, breathing harsh. “Why the fuck would you say that?”
I couldn’t answer. My racing heart stole all capability of speech.
“Answer me, goddammit,” he roared. “Now!”
Everything he said—it was a lie. He felt something when I mentioned his birthday. He reacted to something hidden in his past. His anger was a front—a terrible wall around the intense historic pain blazing in his eyes.
“I’m not playing you,” I whispered. “Please, tell me what you know.”
He reared back, his face bloodless and savage. “I’ll never tell you anything, because you aren’t her, goddammit. It’s a fucking trick. A cruel, vicious trick.”
My heart cracked open, spilling its life force. I would’ve given up ten years of my life just to see what he hid from me.
Suddenly, his fire burned out and he slouched on top of me. His fingers unraveled from around my throat, and I sucked in a greedy breath.
He passed out, the barest whisper on his lips. “You’re not her. You’re not my Sagittarius.”
I froze, willing his breathless confession to awake something inside me. I squeezed my eyes, letting his unconscious bulk press me harder against the tiles.
Please, remember.
My brain ached; my eyes bruised.
Sagittarius and Libra.
Nothing.
Pain leeched through me. The fireflies of truth I’d seen in his eyes fluttered around us, dispersing faster and faster with every uneven breath.
Kill’s hips pressed against mine—a large belt buckle digging against my tender flesh. Despite being almost unconscious and full of pain, his masculine form woke the dormant femininity inside me.
I couldn’t ignore the maleness between my legs. Or the scent of him—of midnight winds and ocean—beneath the leather and blood. My senses were alive and sparking—drinking him in.
I twisted and wrigg
led, trying to get free. I had to heal, had to fix, before he disappeared forever. Because one thing was for sure, I wasn’t going anywhere. The flashback had cemented my decision. Regardless of my future.
His love for someone—for her—only strengthened my resolve to hammer him with questions until I got answers.
Kill’s eyes popped open, glassy and heavy. His hips spasmed, rubbing against mine.
I bit my lip, hating how the small action sent electricity lighting up my bloodstream.
He raised his head slowly, blinking and looking drugged. The haze of his injury was thick; I worried the next time he passed out, he wouldn’t wake.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I whispered. Hating how my voice had become soft and malleable. Every inch of him turned me from victim to seductress against my will. My fingers ached to run through his thick, long hair. My nipples tightened to feel his chest pressed firmly against mine.
I shouldn’t be thinking of sex. But it was all I could focus on with how close we were.
His eyes tore wide, drenching me in green moss. “You’re not in a position to—to bargain.” He winced, his teeth snapping together in agony.
Keeping my voice low, I murmured, “I’m in a perfect position to bargain. If you don’t let me stitch you up and get you into bed, you’ll pass out again, and I’ll be long gone by the time you wake up.”
I’m not leaving until I understand.
His eyebrow quirked, even as pain laced his features. “You should leave. It’s obvious I won’t be able to stop you.” He sighed, dropping the pretense of angry biker. “Why are you still here?”
“You know why,” I breathed. Please, tell me why.
He shook his head. “You…” He stopped, changing his mind and muttering, “Hang on, you said you want to get me into bed?” His hips flexed, testing me.
I knew I should act repulsed, horrified, and rage against him taking advantage of me—but I… couldn’t.
I wouldn’t play games. I had too much to lose and everything to gain by being everything that I was. I wouldn’t hide the fact I found him intensely attractive. I wouldn’t try and pretend that I didn’t want him—all of him—including every memory he kept hidden.
My world had shrunk from family and friends and a career I didn’t recall, to him. Just him and me. Here and now.
Truth was the only way forward.
I never took my eyes from his. “You’re focusing on the wrong part of that conversation. If you don’t let me help you, you’ll die.”
“And that would work in your favor, so why do you care?”
“I told you. I care because I have questions, so many questions, and you’re the only one around to answer them.”
He grinned, but his face lost its energy, going slack once again. “I don’t have the answers you need.”
“I think you do.”
“And if I do, but choose never to tell you—what then?”
I paused, confidence settling into my bones. “I’ll make you.” I smiled softly. “I can be very persuasive.”
I think.
A heartbreaking shadow of despair filled his eyes, only to fade a second later. “Someone once told me I was extremely stubborn.”
“Obviously. Otherwise you would’ve let me up by now and I’d be healing you.”
He didn’t smile, tension knotting his muscles. “Who are you?”
Sadness crept from nowhere. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me.”
He looked away, anger granting him energy. He rolled off me as if he couldn’t stand to be close anymore. Staring at the ceiling, he growled, “Fine, fix me.”
I sat up, pressing a palm against my aching back.
Kill added, “I give you my word that I’ll lie here and let you poke me with a goddamn needle. I’ll even permit you to wave the gun in my face if it makes you feel safer, but I want something in return.”
My eyebrows rose. “You want more than your life? That’s a bit greedy, don’t you think?”
His head turned, his green eyes latching onto mine. “I want to know everything about you. The scars. The tattoos. All of it. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what I have to do to make you remember.” The air shimmered as his temper grew. “But I’ll tell you this—if you lie to me, I’ll kill you. Fair and fucking simple. I don’t know if you’re bullshitting me or if this is real, but regardless—one lie, and you’re done.”
He held up a finger, pointing rudely in my face. “You never lie to me. The moment you do, your life is over and this”—he waved between us—“whatever is going on with us—this ridiculous cease-fire—it’s over. I’ll sell you and never think of you again. I’m through being manipulated, sweetheart, and you do not want to make me your enemy.”
He slapped a hand over his wound, his body bowing off the tiles. “You agree to those terms?”
I trembled with hope. The connection—the inexplicable bond throbbed. “I do. But only if you promise never to lie to me in return.”
He closed his eyes, his forehead furrowing with grief. “Sometimes lies are the only thing keeping us sane. I won’t give you that promise.” His words were final. Absolute.
I hated that he asked so much from me, but I might never get what I needed in return. “And if I can’t tell you the story. If I never remember?”
He shrugged awkwardly, his jaw clenching. “Then you’ll just have to stay in the dark and I’ll get rid of you. Don’t make me regret every fucking thing I’ve ever done.”
My hands clenched. “What do you regret?” Was it something to do with… us? “Please… do you know me or not?” Anxiousness made my heart thrum with pain. “Please…”
He coughed. “Go get the medical kit. I’m not feeling—” His face went slack.
Dammit.
Scuttling to my feet, I left the office and its multitude of computer screens, and dashed into the foyer. I tried two doors—one to a sitting room and another to a TV den, before finding the bathroom.
It felt strange to be running around barefoot and without underwear in the home of a man who’d stolen me from my life and who ran a motorcycle gang.
All thoughts of leaving were gone.
The front door didn’t tease, nor did the phone on the cradle by the staircase.
Nothing could give me what I needed.
Only the surly man bleeding on the floor.
What if he refuses to tell you?
What if he gets tired and sells you?
My thoughts demanded some rational reasoning, but I couldn’t give them any. I just knew I couldn’t leave. Not yet.
This might be your only chance. You can’t trust him.
Trusting him was the price I had to pay. He said he’d keep me until I could tell him the story of my tattoo and scars. It might take me a day to remember, or a year.
He’d keep me.
You hope.
Turning my thoughts off, I entered the bathroom where a glassed shower, toilet, and single vanity welcomed me with white sparkling mosaic tiles. There was no mirror, leaving me to wonder what I looked like.
Another image of mathematical equations hung from the crisp walls.
The computers and frames—was he a genius? An evil mastermind who pulled the strings of the world through the use of code?
Opening the under sink cupboard, I found what I was looking for. Grabbing the bright red plastic box with the white cross, I made my way back into the office.
Kill lay on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes, his lips parted.
He didn’t move as I fell to my knees beside him and unlatched the case. He didn’t twitch as I grabbed the sterile scissors and cut his ruined T-shirt away.
I pushed the bloody garment off his shoulders and his arm fell away from his eyes. He was unconscious again.
I hope you stay that way for the next part.
Staring at the medical kit, I selected some antiseptic wipes, ripped open a needle, and threaded medical-grade twine. The kit was well equipped, more so than a normal
, everyday one. Why did he have the need for something with its own battery pack and defibrillators?
Do you really need an answer to that?
His lifestyle was obviously dangerous. He held the respect of most of the men back at the compound, but not all. He’d been challenged and hurt. To live in a world where life was an uncertainty would require the use of a medical kit such as this once in a while.
Cleaning his chest of blood, I poured a decent amount of Betadine in his wound to disinfect, then tried to stem the bleeding as best I could with the use of gauze. Holding it down with pressure, I quickly swiped his chest with an alcohol wipe, watching his features carefully to see if he’d wake.
Nothing.
My heart thundered in my ears but my hand was steady. Muscle memory took over mind memory as I rested on my knees beside the naked chest of Arthur Killian and pinched the puckered ends of his wound.
I guessed it was two to three inches. Fairly deep, made by something sharp, like a switchblade or jagged point. I hoped the muscle wasn’t ruptured or needed internal stitching because all I could do with the items I had was sew the outer layer.
He’s lucky it wasn’t over his heart. The wound was on the right side of his chest, about a hand’s width from his nipple. My eyes skated over his body, taking in the firm muscles, the deep shadows that formed a six-pack, the hairless chest, and the dark happy trail disappearing into his jeans. He had the most perfectly formed V muscles, taunting me with everything that was male.
The belt buckle that’d jammed into me was the same emblem as the one on his jacket—an abacus and skull with a waterfall of coins from its mouth.
He needed a thorough cleaning. There was mud and dirt all over him, not to mention the dried blood.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the needle through his flesh, sewing the two sides together.
He didn’t flinch. His breathing stayed shallow but regular.
One blessing, I supposed.
I lost track of time as I sewed and tended to the man I should’ve let bleed out and run far away from. I saved his life, all while mine hung in the balance.
But I was rewarded with some resemblance of peace. Serenity. Partly because in doing something I obviously had talent for, I was also saving someone who could save me in return.