Page 40 of Full Throttle

I pushed up on my elbows, our faces inches apart now. “Get the fuck out of my loft.”

A cruel satisfied smile spread across his beauty. “Not going anywhere, Nik. We’re iced in.”

Nik.

Iced in.

He and I…

Nik, please. Listen to me.

“Then please,” I whispered, my heart cracking into pieces inside of my chest. How dare he continue to call me that, after everything he’d put me through? “Please get off me.”

He flinched at the plea in my tone, blinking twice before pushing off the couch and walking to the kitchen. I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself as I looked over my shoulder and out the windows again. St. Louis was now a winter torture-land, because there was nothing wonderful about being trapped in a loft with the man who broke your heart and still continued to beat on it whenever he could squeeze in the time.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard his voice again, pulling me out of my anxious thoughts.

“Are you hungry?”

Cain’s question was so simple—so normal—that it made me want to vomit. I looked back to him, eying his muscles in underneath his light gray Henley as he focused on the skillet in front of him, his arm working as he stirred. “Why are you here?” I pushed out, still trying to wrap my head around this.

Where was Sullie?

Why, of all people, was Cain here with me?

Did Jeremy send him to me?

My mind went in a different direction, drifting away from Cain as the long conversation with the Oasis leader came back. Jer had told me everything…including the full nightmare that was currently underway with the mayor and the chief of police. Amara and Leon had been the ones to piece everything together and now the city was in shambles because of it. The Crew was under a lot of pressure, and nothing could be done until Kavi, the leader of the Russian Mafia, was brought down.

Jer had also given me the option to leave, but there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Denver was nice, yes, but it was never my home. It didn’t feel like Oasis did. So, I put on my big girl pants and decided to help in any way I could. Which wasn’t much, considering I needed to be off this ankle for at least a week.

“I can make you some eggs,” Cain said, pulling me from my thoughts.

Okay, I guess he wasn’t answering any of my questions today.

“I’m not hungry,” I told him, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table.

“Power lines are down, Dominique,” he called out to me.

Oh, right.

My eyes slid from the blank TV to him again, watching as he flipped the omelet over and sprinkled some seasoning over the top. He didn’t look at me, keeping his pale eyes on the food, but his jaw was clenched. He could feel my eyes on him, and he didn’t fucking like it.

Good.

I didn’t like him being here.

As I watched, he turned the gas burner off and plated the food before setting the skillet back on the stove top. When he finally looked up, it was my turn to tighten my jaw, grinding my teeth. “Are you going to stare at me in silence all day, or are you going to answer my question?” he asked, his tone short.

“Are you going to answer mine?” I shot back, baring my teeth, anger still boiling inside me. “Why are you here?”

He continued staring at me for a beat. “Scrambled with a little pepper, right?” When I didn’t answer, he turned away from me mumbling, “Like I could forget your food sensitivities.”

I flinched but recovered quickly before he turned back around, cracking two eggs into a bowl. As he whisked, I tried again. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Came by last night to check on you,” he answered simply, putting some pepper into the beaten eggs.

Broken glass gathered in my throat. “What?”

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