Page 35 of Unhinged Cravings
He halted his steps and threw a look over his shoulder. “Because next time he’ll hurt you and I’ll have to kill him.”
No hesitation. No teasing tone. The words were serious, the darkness in those blue irises lethal.
He looked away and his steps became steady again. “Come get breakfast. I have plans for you.”
My spine stung from the flip Breaker had given me and I was still a little dazed, but I didn’t know if it was from being tossed or from Emerson’s words.
“Just Breaker?” I dared.
He shook his head, mumbling, “Any man.”
I sucked in a breath as he sat at the table and picked up his coffee cup while looking out at the ocean. The opportunity to run was there. No guard stood over me. Emerson’s back was to me.But I didn’t because that draw to the man who had just told me he would kill any man who hurt me was too strong. Either that or I had hit my head too hard.
Standing, I stretched my back, knowing I’d have bruises. They would be worth the tradeoff of showing them I wasn’t some weak woman. A strand of my hair stuck to my cheek, still damp from my shower, so I pushed it away as I walked.
“You don’t have to prove yourself to my men, Ava.” Emerson placed his mug on the table, his eyes still on the horizon.
“I always have to prove myself. I’m a woman. Men see me as helpless and fragile.”
His chuckle skittered across my skin like the delicate rake of nails. “You’re anything but fragile. Between that mouth of yours and those fists, you can hold your own. That left hook is something Breaker won’t underestimate again. It takes a lot to make that man even flinch.”
I looked down at my sore knuckles, rubbing them. “Yeah, well…” I didn’t know what else to say.
His hand covered mine, and my eyes flew to him to see his focus on my fingers as he smoothed his thumb over them.
“The punching bag is different from hitting flesh and bone.”
“I’m fine,” I said, wanting to jerk my hand away but enjoying the warmth of his touch too much.
He released my hand, turning back to the view and avoiding my sight. I sat across from him, eating my eggs and thinking they were now my favorite food.
“Did your uncle teach you those moves?” he asked when the silence was almost unbearable.
“Some,” I said, wiping my mouth. After chewing the rest of my mouthful, I explained, “I never wanted to be vulnerable again…”No, too much, Ava.He caught the choice of words, his head tilting toward me. “I mean, Den insisted I know how to protect myself. He taught me the basics, but he worked a lot and having his niece tag along wasn’t safe, so he did what he could.When I went to college, I took a self-defense class and loved it. I took as many as I could and started working out at the local gym.” A sip of coffee didn’t break the intensity of his gaze. “I lived in some shady places when I left college. Uncle Den hated it, but I was stubborn, wanted to see how tough I could be.” Wanted to look death in the face again and laugh at it. Wanted to prove something that didn’t need proving. “And even now I work at a bar and walk home alone at two in the morning.” Shrugging, I added, “I need to know how to protect myself because no one else can.”
His eyes narrowed, catching my last words. They weren’t necessarily true. My uncle would kill for me. Now I had Greyson Tides because of Den and Riley, and there were men I worked with who continually asked to walk me home, who stayed after their shifts to make sure I was safe when I closed up. There were good men in the world and some of them were in my life, but the bad one had overshadowed them for too long.
“If your guys hadn’t drugged me, I would have beaten the shit out of them.” I was hoping to erase his serious expression, but it remained. Unable to take it anymore, I looked away. I didn’t want to talk about my past, to tell him my secrets. They were my burden, not his.
“Since you trust me enough to sleep in the same bed with me, do you think you could let me out of my cell more often?” I asked, changing the subject.
“We’ll see.”
“Boss, your company is here.” I turned to see another of Emerson’s men at the door. This guy stood about three inches shorter than Emerson and reminded me of a weasel. The only thing tough about him was the snake tattooed on his cheek and the scar that ran through his left eyebrow.
“Good. Keep an eye on this one.” He rose, cracking his knuckles as he walked up to the man. “You one of Pack’s new hires?”
“Yeah, started a few days ago.”
Emerson didn’t respond but stood there, holding his stare, his muscles tense below his shirt. “Show me.” I could see the tension in his back.
The guy pulled his shirt up, and I peeked my head around to see the variety of tattoos. Embedded in one was the Omens marking.
“Guess Pack thought you were good enough to skip my approval. Make one wrong move and he’ll be cleaning pieces of your brain off my floor.”
The image was one I didn’t want to imagine, but it was there now. Emerson walked by him and, without a glance at me, he walked away, leaving the man to babysit me.
I slumped back in my chair and chomped on my toast. Every time it seemed like there might be something more to this, Emerson reminded me of my place in his world. Hostage. I didn’t know why I was having so much trouble remembering it.
