I pace restlessly back and forth across Ace’s small bedroom. I don’t know why the fuck he sleeps on a mattress on the floor, considering I know how much money he makes.
We aren’t close enough for me to ask and although we’re brothers in every way that counts, I don’t really care how he chooses to live his life. If he wants to be locked up in this crummy apartment on the bad side of town, that’s his prerogative.
The more time that passes, the more agitated I become. The soft hum of voices penetrates through the paper-thin walls, but I can’t make out what they’re saying and I can’t fucking stand it. Having any distance between us now that I know she’s in danger has my blade pressing into the scarred flesh of my forearm just to give me a second of peace. But it doesn’t last. The demons are back so quickly I barely have time to move the knife before they’re beating down on me again.
When I can’t take it anymore, when my arms are covered in tiny cuts and blood drips down to my wrist, I stop fighting and succumb to my need to be close to Clara. I’ve been fighting it for too long, fighting the inevitable, fighting a losing battle from the very second I first caught sight of her.
Clara and Ace are sitting at the desk, facing one another. The first person I ever considered to be family is staring at my fawn like he’s not sure what to make of her, and Clara has tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What the fuck did you do?” I snap. “Why the fuck is she crying?”
I’m moving across the room before I’m conscious of the decision. I’ve always been structured, always thinking through every decision I’ve ever made, but when it comes to Clara and her safety, I can’t manage to think through any decision before I jump into action.
“We were just talking,” Ace assures me, but I can’t see past the tears rolling down my woman’s cheeks.
I pull Clara out of her chair and shove her behind me, shielding her from the threat. It’s not a conscious movement by any means, but all I can see is someone threatening my entire life, and I won’t stand for it.
“Tommy,” she whispers. Her hands fist the back of my shirt and the monster claws at me to move away from her. She’s too close to touching me, the thin fabric not enough distance, but I don’t move. Despite everything in me begging me to, I hold her closer, pressing her against my back and sucking in a breath of panic.
Ace watches on with a mixture of amusement and worry etched into his features. We’re cut from the same cloth, he grew up in the same nightmare I did, and he knows exactly what it’s doing to me to have her hands on me like this. “We were just talking, man. I promise.”
I look over my shoulder at Clara. The tears have been replaced with interest, but her eyes still have the telltale sheen of tears pooling at the corners. She gives me a soft nod to confirm what Ace said was true, but I hold her behind me as my gaze returns to my foster brother.
“Are you going to track the call or not?” I snap. I need to get her out of here. I need to get her somewhere safe, and this shitty apartment is the complete opposite.
He looks over my shoulder where Clara has peeked out to look at him, but I don’t look at her. I’m too fucking close to losing my mind, too close to tearing this place apart and breaking Ace’s neck for good measure. “Clara? Is it okay if I do this?”
I stare at him for long seconds, trying to make sense of the words that have just come out of his mouth. Ace doesn’t ask for permission. He does what the fuck he wants and what he’s paid to do, so what is it about Clara that has him asking if it’s okay for him to track the person who called and terrorized her and very likely broke into her apartment last night?
“Track him,” she whispers, her voice breaking under the gravity of the words.
Ace holds her gaze for another few seconds before giving a sharp nod and returning his attention to me. “Give me ten.”
He turns his attention back to the computer and quickly plugs her phone in without looking down. He’s always been good at this shit, but none of it makes sense to me. The most I could do was install the cameras in Clara’s apartment and the trackers on her shit, and that was only because I’d watched Everett do it a few times and I followed the instructions to the letter.
I finally drag my attention away from him and turn to face my little fawn. She’s never looked more like her nickname than she does right now. Her big doe eyes look up at me like I’m the lion that’s about to attack, and she couldn’t be more right. She nibbles at her bottom lip, the soft pillow looking plump and red from the abuse.
Without thinking, I reach up and pull her lip free. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Her mouth falls open, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to reach down and kiss her, to take her lips with mine and devour her sweetness. As a rule, I don’t kiss. I guess that probably has a lot to do with the fact I like to tie women up and fuck them from behind, so there’s no chance of them touching me. But Clara’s lips call to me. They make me want to dirty her with my darkness, polluting her with the sin that runs through my veins.
“Do you want to tell me who I’m going to be hunting?”
“My father.”
It shouldn’t come as a surprise, not when I know all about fucked-up families, but somehow the words hit me like a bullet slicing through my skin. From the profile Frost Industries has, she grew up in a normal family with two siblings. Her mother was a nurse and while they moved around a lot, their family seem fairly normal on paper. So why would she be hiding from her father?
“Maybe we should sit down. There’re some things I need to tell you.”
