Page 54 of Vipers & Roses

Before I have a chance to think, he’s here before me, only a foot away, dangerously close, that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His hand finds a lock of golden hair that has come loose from my ponytail and curls it behind my ear as his blue eyes run over my hair, eyes, and lips. I’m struggling to find the words to fit this moment, and he doesn’t seem to want to speak either; instead, he uses his hand and eyes to communicate.

Communicate what, though. What does this mean?

His warm hand cups my cheek, and I gaze up at him, watching unflinchingly examine my face, hoping to see a hint of desire or longing. Those blue eyes assess my lips with a second of contemplation before he leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

An explosion shatters through every cell in my body as moisture floods into my panties. His scent, touch, and mood stir a glorious, vivacious dance inside my body.

When he pulls away from the kiss, cutting the cord between us, I stumble backward, and he seizes my arm to stop me from collapsing.

“Sorry,” I breathe, placing my fingers against my lips, noticing the mood in his eyes has changed, showing regret.

He turns his back, steps to the door, and opens it, and as he’s about to disappear, I state, “I’m dating your son. Cormac.”

His body freezes, his head bows slightly, and a hot temper peels from his body and swirls about like a hurricane in my tiny apartment.

Without a word, he shuts the door behind him, and I wonder if I will ever see him again.

25

I waited ten minutes to allow Gabe to get ahead of me before leaving for the elevator so I didn’t bump into him. My hands are still trembling, and my heart is thumping heavily in my chest, yet all I can smell is his cologne, and all I can feel is his lips. When I arrive in the main foyer, I check through the glass doors to see if I can catch sight of the salt and pepper head again, but I can’t see him and suppress the urge to run outside for a better look.

Swinging the door open into the parking garage, I shiver at how dark it is. I noticed that the LED light by the entrance had been smashed, and another one had been destroyed. Keeping to the bright side of the garage, I walk towards my car, the bright yellow sun leading me while keeping my wits about me.

A scraping sound on the concrete forces me to look behind, but I can’t see anyone. An unwanted shiver runs down my spine, even though it’s warm here, and my feet pick up the pace to get to my car sooner. My phone beeps in my bag, and I jump just from that slightly muffled sound and assume it’s Cormac, wondering how far away I am. I won’t bother checking my phone until I’m in the safety of my car and out of this fucking garage.

“Rae?” a man calls out, and I follow his voice to find a man about thirty years old in a dark-colored shirt and grey baggy sweatpants.

“Who is asking?” I hunt for the crow tattoo on his arm to see if it matches the man I spotted outside my door earlier, but his arms are clean.

“I have a message for you,” he states, closing the space between us and becoming threatening. If he already knows who I am, why did he ask?

“I’m not who you think I am,” I lie, trying to call his bluff.

His gaze drifts to the yellow Corolla, about six feet from me. “This your car?”

“No,” I answer as he takes his phone out of his pocket, checks something on it, and then seems annoyed.

“Looks like you going by the picture I’ve been given,” he explains. “Anyway, if you’re thinking about squealing on Coach, you better think again.” He’s admitting that Coach has done something wrong, but I suspect this guy is just a paid runner.

I shrug, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, and consider shuffling backward toward the elevator or the fire exit.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he adds, glancing over my shoulder as a smirk appears. I don’t need to turn around to discover that a second man has appeared; I can sense the impending danger.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder as I’m shoved into the nearest vehicle and gasp in horror. His hand fixes tightly around my throat and squeezes as my flailing arms try to fight him off without success. I can’t breathe, and no matter how much I punch, kick, and scratch, it doesn’t make the slightest difference.

“Be a good girl,” the hulking man instructs with his sour breath crawling across my skin, “listen to my colleague.” He looks over at his ‘colleague’ “repeat what you said so it sinks into her little brain.”

“No snitching on the coach,” the first guy says, and I can tell he’s smiling.

“Did you hear that?” the hulk asks me. “No snitching on the coach. Because if you do…” He clasps my throat even tighter, restricting my airways, and panic ensues, drawing a gasp from my mouth.

“I think this one wants to live,” the other guy says. “She won’t be stupid.”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty one, alright,” the hulk replies as his pupils dilate and he licks his bottom lip. I know what he is thinking. This has happened to me before, and I can’t let it happen again.

“She’s got the message. Let her go,” the first guy states.

The hulk ignores him and grabs the space between my legs, and anger rages within me. “I think she’s hot for me.”

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