Page 79 of Brutal Collateral

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Griffin

Iclimb my stairs,sending Connor a text with an idea to change up our weapon delivery routes to avoid the Feds getting suspicious when I see a faint light from under my bedroom door.

Right, Ava is in there.

I demanded she sleep in my bedroom and my bed. Opening the door, I take in the quiet.

She’s asleep. But it’s close to three a.m. I’d be more concerned if she was awake, probably planning something diabolical.

I pad to the bathroom, shower, and brush my teeth. With a towel slung low on my hips, I consider if I should get into bed naked. I doubt Ava is naked. Even if she were, I don’t know if I would do anything about it.

Non-consensual sexisn’tmy thing. I want a woman to crave me. Drip for me. Beg me.

From my closet, I grab a pair of sleep pants. As each second passes, exhaustion takes over until I can barely keep my eyes open. I couldn’t get it up right now if she did beg me.

Okay, I would,I chuckle to myself.

After shutting the closet light, I carefully move through the dark to get into bed. Lifting the covers, I feel something tug them down. Is Ava sleeping on top of the bedspread?

This is silly. I reach over and feel something silky, but soft. Very soft. What the hell?

I turn over to put on the nightstand lamp and let out a howl that can wake the dead. On the bed is a...a clown. A life-sized, stuffed fucking clown with frizzy orange hair, a white face, and painted red diamonds for eyes.

“What in fuck’s sake is that?” I shriek.

Ava lifts her head, smiling. “You wanted me in bed. I needed my emotional-support clown. You don’t mind, do you?”

Shaking, I push away my deep-rooted fear of clowns. It’s stupid and childish, but they freak me the fuck out.

“Yes, I do mind.” My voice cracks, and I narrow my eyes at her. “When did you start needing an emotional-support...anything? You were in the Navy.”

“It started when... I was in the cage.” She rolls over and hugs the thing.

My shoulders sag in defeat. But I know she’s lying. Someone told her about my...phobia.

“I’m sorry. I can’t sleep with this damn thing in my bed. How about I get you a dog?” I’d rather sleep with a fucking drooling Saint Bernard with a weak bladder.

Only, when I tug the clown, it pulls back. I follow its arms and realize they are pulled over its head. Metal glints off my lamp.

“Did you chain this damn thing to the bed?” I try to pull it off, but Ava slaps her hand across it.

“Stop. Yes, I did. You wanted me in the bed. I’m here. This is what I need to be comfortable. And it creates a barrier so you don’t wander over here.”

“You have my word.”

“I just met you. Sorry.”

“No, you didn’t just fucking meet me. You knew me for all of two hours and came back to my motel room. And even though you thought I was going to murder you, you stayed and fucked me anyway.” I realize I’m shouting. “And where in bleedin’ fuck’s sake did you get this thing?” I run my fingers along the round steel chain links. “Andchains?”

“You’d be surprised what can be ordered online and delivered the same day.”

“I bet.” Sweating, I take a pillow to cover the hideous clown’s face.

“You’re free to sleep in another bed. Or I can.” She pushes the cover away.

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