I needed to get out of there.
Finally, my flight instinct kicked in, but it wasn’t smooth. Trembles overtook my entire body while I spun on my heel and rushed for the door to the lanai—only, I was off balance and working with two weak knees. I ran into the ledge of the counter with my hip, and searing pain radiated through my pelvis. When I tried to grab ahold of the vanity to catch myself, my arm knocked into whatever had been sitting on top of it, and what sounded like glass bottles and aerosol cans went crashing to the floor.
In the split second of silence while I stood still, entrenched in fear, I heard one of the men say, “Kryder, go check that out.” Then, his voice came out higher, full of concerned questions when he asked, “Is someone in the house? Did you happen to check the perimeter before turnin’ this place into a fuckin’ crime scene?”
I bolted toward the door, taking the knob in my grip. But before I could turn it and flee, light poured into the room, and thick, angry fingers wrapped completely around my bicep. Whoever it was pulled my back against his hard chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me, and locked me in place with his strong, masculine hold across the front of my shoulders. I couldn’t manage to retain anything in that moment. Not the light-colored, curly hairs on his forearm or the tropical scent wafting from his shirt. I didn’t take note of how the back of my head came to his collarbone or the way his chin grazed the top of my ear while we stood. Anything that would’ve helped identify this man vanished from my thought process when he dragged me from the bathroom, down the hall, to the kitchen.
“Let her go!” The vicious, almost feral demand hit me hard in the chest, and immediately, I was released.
My eyes flew open, not realizing I’d shut them, and my sight fell on a very angry Cash. His stare pierced the man behind me.
Seeking safety, I ran toward Cash. In less than four strides, I was wrapped in his strained, unyielding arms. He held me to him. I pressed my face against the solid planes of his chest and breathed him in, his familiar scent engulfing me in effortless security. The comfort only his embrace could offer immediately calmed my breathing and slowed my heart rate.
“Any other witnesses you’d like to invite to the party?” The voice came from behind Cash, startling me. The way he snarled his question was enough to bring me out of the moment and remind me of the situation at hand.
I pulled away, but Cash’s unforgiving hold wouldn’t let me go far. An older man, built like a two-ton truck, stood next to the kitchen table, his heavy, black boot pressed into a man’s chest. From where I was, I couldn’t get a good look at the victim’s face to recognize him, but I was able to see his arms tucked behind his back, pinned beneath him, and his legs, twisted oddly, hooked beneath his bottom. The way he lay on the floor, contorted with his limbs trapped under his body, anchored to the tile with a large boot confining his already constricted movements, seemed excessive.
But then he turned his head.
And those haunting green eyes made my blood run cold.
I fisted the sides of Cash’s shirt, desperate for his gravity to keep me from falling away. His words from only moments ago—yet it felt like ages had passed since hearing them—ran through me. He said he’s going to come after Jade and take Aria. Both unbridled fury and deeply rooted fear bred within me, charging me with the electrifying combination. Heat rolled through my chest like an unfurled fire, burning fast and furious up my neck and scorching my face.
Simultaneously, I released my grip on Cash and pushed away from him, frantically fighting to get to the bastard who’d ruined my life. The hatred and terror he’d groomed within me aroused the normally dormant wrath inside me. The animosity, resentment, and suppressed bitterness rushed forward in a torrent of unrestrained condemnation. “You won’t get her! You can’t touch her! She’ll never be yours!”
Cash’s grip around my waist kept me from him. I kicked my feet out from beneath me while Cash held me in the air, disregarding my flailing arms and wild legs. I’d probably even scratched him with my nails when I dug them into his arms, trying to break free.
“Get ahold of her, Nicholson,” the older man with silver hair commanded.
The room tilted when Cash swung me around, only coming to a screeching halt once he had my back against the counter with his arms on either side of me, trapping me in place. The way he towered over me left me arching my back, and his chest rising and falling in exertion close to mine.
I lifted my chin to find his stormy gaze.
But he didn’t say anything.
And neither did I.
The chaos continued around us while we stared into each other’s eyes. But the longer it went on, the more in tune I became to the conversation happening behind Cash. I could now clearly separate the two men without having to see them. And by the slightly higher-pitched voice and lack of subtle Southern drawl, I identified it was the younger one who said, “He looks like a shitshow, man. There’s no way he won’t say anything. The first person who sees him will know he’s had his ass handed to him.”
“He may only got one oar in the water, but he ain’t stupid enough to talk…are ya, you ol’ buzzard?” A few soft slaps filled the air, and I assumed he’d smacked his face to punctuate his oddly worded insult. “He knows what’ll happen to him if he opens his gator.”
Cash closed his eyes, a rush of air leaving his lips as his head fell forward. And then his shoulders began to shake with the roll of unexpected humor that rumbled in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder, an easy grin on his face, and said, “Any other references to animals you’d like to make? I’ve got a few if you need them.”
The entire situation caught me off guard and made my body tense at the possibility he’d gone crazy. Once I started questioning the reasons behind such a theory, it brought my focus to the here and now. The words and confessions I’d overheard from the bathroom filled my head, and the fact there were three men in my mom’s house, my stepdad beaten on the floor, intensified the paranoia and persuaded me that the man in front of me was a stranger, someone I didn’t know at all. You’re a trained killer echoed in my mind.
When I’d come into the kitchen and saw the green eyes of that monster, I’d blocked out everything around me.
But I couldn’t do that anymore.
Reality smacked me in the face.
I’d been living with a liar, a horrible person.