Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

I knew Vic was pissed as all hell because Vic Gate had always complained when it rained on missions. He hated it. No one knew about his past and he was one cruel, fucked-up asshole who never smiled and hated getting wet. I was confident there were a hell of a lot of skeletons in that guy’s closet, but that door remained locked down tight. Probably how it should stay.

He ran his hand over the handlebars and after a minute of him not saying anything, I stood, flicking the dirty rag onto the seat of the bike.

“Sometimes it helps to do what you’re good at,” he said.

“You mean killing people?” I replied. Because when I was on the drug, I excelled at that.

“I was going to say hiding, but whatever.” Asshole, but I felt the corners of my mouth curve up. “If killing is your thing now, there are a lot of shit men to get rid of in this world. Not saying now or in a few months, but when you’re ready, there’s a place for you. Get your head on straight first though. Don’t need you shooting me in the ass.”

I snorted.

A yellow cab pulled up in front of the house and Alina got out. What the hell? It was only ten. I yanked my cell from my back pocket to see if I’d missed a text from her, but there were none. What was she doing off work early on a Saturday night? And why wouldn’t she call me to pick her up?

“She’s one hell of a woman,” Vic said, his eyes on Alina as she slammed the cab door and headed for the front path. “And for the record, even though your head was screwed up, leaving her in the sewer was a dick move.”

Before I could throw a punch, he was gone.

I watched Alina push open the picket gate and walk along the stone path.

Something was wrong.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her steps stiff, and the natural sway to her hips was gone. But the biggest giveaway was her eyes. They remained on the path instead of straying to the wildflowers in the garden. Every time I’d seen her walk along that path, she admired the wildflowers with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Not tonight.

I picked up my rag, wiped my hands and tossed it back on the bike before striding toward her. “Babe?” She stopped, her head snapping in my direction, eyes wide with fear. What the ever living fuck?

Anger scratched at the wall of control as I immediately thought of some asshole hurting her at work. Fuck, I wished she’d give that job up.

I slowed my steps and took a deep breath to calm the roar. “You okay?” I hopped the low picket fence and weaved through the garden.

“Ah, yeah. Fine.”

Oh, fuck no. She wasn’t okay, her voice quaked and her eyes avoided mine. Why was she lying to me?

I stopped in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders then slid them down her arms to her hands. “Talk to me.” Her head tilted so I couldn’t see her eyes. “Alina, look at me.”

“Connor, I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

Shit. Running. I excelled at it, but Alina was the opposite. She didn’t run from shit and she was running from whatever was bothering her. The scratching turned to pounding which pissed me off more because I wanted to be the one who was calm for her this time. She needed me to be.

“Was it me showing up at the coffee shop today?”

She shook her head.

“Something happen at work?”

“No.” She pulled her hands from mine and pushed by me. “Can I just get some space, damn it?”

Every muscle in my body tensed. “Alina.” I attempted to keep my tone soft, but it came out as a subtle growl.

She kept going, walked up the steps onto the porch, and disappeared inside the house. I stood frozen, my heart thumping, and my control on the cusp of detonation. My coping mechanism was to leave until I calmed again, but I didn’t want to leave her like this.

I could do this. I had to try. I wouldn’t leave her.

Walking into the kitchen, I took my time washing my hands, closed my eyes and listened to the water gently flow from the tap.

Only when the pounding eased did I shut off the water.

I found her in the bedroom already in her white silk pajamas. Her work clothes were scattered on the floor, something she never did. If she didn’t put them away, she laid them on the chair by the window. She ignored me and went into the bathroom and shut the door.

The water turned on.

I picked her clothes off the floor and laid them over the lounge chair then took out my cell and gun, and placed them on the nightstand before pulling the covers back.