Page 41 of Danger Close
“Something went wrong with us, Princess.” He gently rocked me on his lap. “I’m going to find out what it was, and fix it. If it was a person, I’ll hunt them down and make them pay for their crimes.”
“No!” He did not know what he was saying. I would never want him to put himself in danger for my sake. “Don’t. Does it matter anymore?”
As lethal as Cobra might be, he didn’t understand the power a man like Ray could have. I had seen with my own eyes what he was willing to do to a person who kept him away from histoy.I did not want to stand over Cobra’s hospital bed as he fought for his life. That price was too high.
“Don’t cry, Princess.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb pushing away my tears.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped the tears away as fast as I could, and I had to wipe my wet palms against my jeans to dry them. “Please, believe me. I never got your letters. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Please… forgive me.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He placed his palm on my jaw, tilting my head up so I could look into his eyes. “And there’s nothing to forgive. It was a mistake–abadmistake–but a mistake nonetheless.”
His touch was warm and gentle. I leaned into it, a glutton for this tenderness.
“I’m going to fix it, if you let me.” He placed his forehead against mine, his prominent nose nudging mine in the sweetest gesture of affection. “In the meantime, will you let me…” He swallowed. “Can we see where this goes?”
“What?” My brows knit together in confusion, my mind too overwhelmed to think.
“I care about you, Princess. Time is fleeting. I’d like to spend some of it–in fact, a lot of it–with you.”
I gazed up at him in wonder, my heart reaching out to him. I wanted that. I wanted it so badly that it frightened me. Flashes of a woman in a hospital bed, a tube down her throat, her bones broken, face swollen flashed through my mind. I blinked, and the image stayed, but instead of a petite Asian doctor, it was him. Cobra, broken, barely breathing, as machines beeped around him.
I couldn’t let that happen. No matter how much I wanted him, no touch, no bliss, no happiness was worth seeing him hurt.
I pushed out of his arms, and he let me go. I stepped away from him, placing cold, sterile distance between us until I bumped into the nightstand, almost knocking over a lamp.
“No.” I shook my head, crying even more. “No. I don’t–we can’t—”
Every attempt I made to explain, to lie, died on my lips.
“Okay.” He came to his feet, his face relaxed, his body casual. “Okay.”
He frowned, then nodded. Then he smiled, and said for a third time, “Okay.”
He stood up, went back to the wall, his hand behind his back. He waited as I wiped my face again, getting my sniffles under control.
“The other thing I came to say was…” His eyes warmed, the green of them glowing brightly as he gave me an almost boyish, lopsided smile. “I think you look beautiful. I wasn’t sure if I’d told you that today, or not.”
Chapter 17
My Blood
Cobra
“Welcome home, Mr. Guerro.” The guard stood, rendering a salute before he gestured for the gate of the Vasiliev mansion to lower. I waited, my Audi rumbling as I put up my window, ready to take the long, winding drive to Jericho’s haunted mansion.
It was technicallymyhouse as well, even if I never felt at home there. Neither had Yuliya, my half-sister.
The old studio apartment that Teri and I had shared in Barstow, California was a home. It was personal, intimate, and perfect for a small family. Somewhere in its imperfections were the signs of life. The Vasiliev mansion, on the other hand, had no such familial “vibe” as the young agents say.
From some angles, it looked like a castle, with gothic spires and high ceilings. If Neuschwanstein and the Addam’s family house had an abomination of a baby, it would be this damn building. Its roof was as high as the ancient Adirondack trees around it. Stars outlined its menacing towers, like it had been pulled out of a Grimm fairytale.
If I listened very hard, I could hear the rustle of deer hoofs and wolf howls in the surrounding forest.
The whole thing was strange, anachronistic. A perfect representation of its chief inhabitant, Jericho Vasiliev. I parked the car on the circle drive, and walked out, walking up the marble steps to the front door, spinning my keys around my index finger and catching them in my palm.
I could still feel the burn of her skin against my hand. I felt her tears against my thumb. I’d felt her longing, and her tenderness in her gorgeous azure eyes. She wanted me as badly as I wanted her. But something had crossed her mind and made her pull away.
I’d need to fix that, too. Retirement meant I had plenty of time for projects. I was racking up a to-do list a mile long.
