Page 52 of Waging War
Ah. That explains the firewood, then.
I retrace my steps to the living room, where a glass jar with delicately cut swirls sits on top of a table near the couch. It clinks when I lift the lid and remove a set of matches.
“Looking for these?” I ask, waving them in the air.
The annoyance on his handsome face has me biting my lip.
“Don’t smirk at me, woman,” he grumbles before snatching them out of my hand.
I admire him for a moment, rubbing my hands together to ward off the chill. Ben’s tall enough to look down on me, but my forehead still reaches his chin, making us the perfect kissing height.
A fact that doesnotwarm my belly.
It’s hard to stand here, demanding my soul hate the man who continues to surprise me. I know the kind of things required of an enforcer, but what will the weight of those burdens eventually do to him?
It bruises my heart to think of Diablo snuffing out the goodness that desperately wants to survive inside Ben.
Leaving him to start the fire, I begin exploring the small house. It’s been years since I’ve last seen it, and I’m curious what other pieces of my mother are left lying around.
There are two bedrooms to the right and the left of the hall, with a small bathroom in between. Along the hallway are scattered photos from years past, and a little smile wiggles its way to my lips as I study them.
Many of them show group pictures with the Wolves from the late seventies and eighties. Almost all of them have my dad and his core group of buddies, either gathered for a rally or posing in front of their bikes at random spots across the country.
The smile I’ve found drops with my stomach when I stop in front of a picture of Dad and Victor.
“What’s wrong?”
Startled, I reel backward when Ben reaches out for me. “Hazel, what is it?”
Swallowing does nothing for my suddenly parched throat. “N-nothing. I’m fine.”
He eyes me suspiciously, then turns his gaze to the picture I was just staring at.
“That’s your dad?” he asks, and I nod, not meeting his gaze. He zeros in on Victor’s vice president badge. “Who is the other guy?” There’s an edge to his question as he takes a step forward.
“No one,” I say firmly, pressing my hand against his sternum. I haven’t spoken his name aloud since the day he attempted to take advantage of me.
This time, when I meet Ben’s gaze, the beast I find there unnerves me.
“I know that look of fear, Hazel.”
I want to ask him to elaborate, but I’m not about to unload my horde of demons. Even though, right now, he looks like he could slaughter every single one of them.
His voice drops so low that a shiver slips down my spine. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll go find the bastard myself.”
“Dammit, Ben. Just drop it.” I yank my hand from his chest. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s dead.”
I take several steps back toward the opposite bedroom before turning to him expectantly. The shadows coming from the fire in the front room play against the wall behind him, giving him a dangerous glamour.
“It’s getting late.” Losing a touch of my cool, I clear my throat. “Are you… planning to stay?”
Ben studies me a beat before nodding.
“Alright then. You can sleep in there. I’ll sleep in here.”
He snags my arm, dropping our previous conversation as I’ve asked. “Unless you want to freeze, I’d suggest we make a pallet in the living room. I can work on the central heating in the morning, but for now, the fire can keep us warm through the night.”
I snort. “Fine. I’ll take the couch, and you can sleep on the floor.”
