War of Hearts

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at me. I might have a few inches of height on him, but he was broader, and from my kneeling position, he loomed over me. Over Ashlyn.

I shifted my body between them, shielding her from my best friend. I knew he was a dangerous man, but he’d never done anything to hurt me.

“Why did you do this?” I prompted when he didn’t answer my first question. “Why the fuck would you do this to her?”

Didn’t he realize what he’d done? I’d left her behind to protect her. If my father’s enemies had discovered her, they might have used her to get to me. I was Dad’s weak spot, and Ashlyn was mine.

“You missed her,” Marco said, as though that were explanation enough for the horrible crime he’d committed. As a career criminal, he wasn’t above kidnapping. But abducting Ashlyn was a personal crime against me. He’d put her at risk by bringing her anywhere near me.

I wanted to rage at him. I wanted to attack him, to hurt him in a way I’d never contemplated before.

But I couldn’t move away from her. I couldn’t let go of her hand. She was so small, vulnerable. I couldn’t leave her side, not while she was unconscious and powerless to defend herself.

Not that she could have defended herself against Marco. My brutal friend didn’t hurt women, but then again, I’d never have imagined him capable of something like this.

“You abducted her because I missed her?” I seethed. “Don’t you understand the danger you’ve put her in? She was safe in Cambridge. She was safe without me.” The last declaration left ashes on my tongue.

“No, she wasn’t,” Marco countered. “I’m not the only one who was looking into your disappearance. I’m not the only one who found your hiding place at Harvard.”

My pulse pounded through my veins. Guilt and selfish hope tormented me. If Ashlyn had been discovered by my father’s enemies, then Marco hadn’t had a choice. He’d taken her to protect her.

But that meant I was ultimately responsible for ripping her from her pretty, perfect life. I’d never wanted that for her. All I’d wanted was to cherish her and make her blissfully happy.

That wasn’t reality, though. My reality was bloody and brutal, and I’d brought her into this tainted world.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Marco continued. I barely noticed the we. Marco and I were a team, and while he’d made this decision on his own, I was now complicit in it.

Because I wasn’t going to let her go. Not again. I couldn’t, now that I was near her.

The fact that she might be in danger if I wasn’t here to protect her was an excuse to keep her. Some part of my mind knew that. If I were truly a good man, I’d tell her to go to the police for protection.

But at heart, I was a selfish, hungry bastard. I wanted her, and while I’d been noble enough to leave her once, I couldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t.

I turned back to look at her, to drink in the sight of her. I could still feel Marco’s presence at my back, but I didn’t care. He knew all my secrets, and his watchful eyes on us barely registered.

Unable to resist her allure, I reached out and traced the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, trailing my fingertips along her jaw. I wanted to memorize every contour of her face, her body. Even my bittersweet, obsessive memories couldn’t compare to having her here with me.

A little furrow appeared between her brows, and she let out a low groan. Despite the sound of discomfort, she leaned her cheek into my hand.

“Joseph?” she asked groggily, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

The sound of my name on her tongue went straight to my cock, and I immediately stiffened for her. Yearning and lust raged through my system, and my hand tightened around hers.

From that moment, I knew I wouldn’t be capable of ever letting her go again.

Chapter Three

Ashlyn

“It’s me. I’m right here. I’ve got you, angel.” I recognized Joseph’s deep voice, the smooth tone he used when he told me how beautiful I was.

Despite my headache, I sighed and leaned into his touch. I kept my eyes closed as I reveled in the feel of his hand against my cheek, touching me with the careful reverence he’d always reserved for me. He was so big and strong, but he held me like something precious and fragile. His gentle hold was often at odds with the fierce way he kissed me; he worshipped me and devoured me at the same time. I found the combination addictive. I found him addictive.

I longed to look into his eyes again. My lashes fluttered against the sudden wash of light, and I squinted as my pupils adjusted. When the world came into focus, I found myself captured in his beautiful, aquamarine gaze. Twin blue flames flickered in his eyes as he studied me with the familiar hunger that made my blood race.

His lashes were just as long and thick as I remembered, his mouth just as full and sensual. More dark stubble covered his strong, square jaw than usual, as though he hadn’t shaved in several days. His glossy black curls fell around his face, his hair a bit unrulier than the last time I’d seen him. Even slightly unkempt, he was the most breathtaking thing I’d ever seen.

“Joseph,” I rasped, his name catching in my parched throat.