“And you should know that I didn’t know it was your girlfriend they sent me after. I knew I was picking up a girl named Olivia Townsend and she was being used to get some books before being…disposed of. I didn’t know it was you until I saw you at the warehouse.”
Now I can sympathize with Nash a little more. I see red. Or black maybe. All I can think of is that this guy had come for Olivia. The fact that he wasn’t the one who took her, that he took Marissa instead, makes no difference. The fact of the matter is that he intended to kidnap and then kill Olivia.
“Calm down, right brother? Wait until we talk to Dad, right brother?” There’s smug sarcasm in Nash’s voice. I should’ve known he’d enjoy this. But at the moment, I could care less. I’m struggling with every ounce of self-control that I possess not to beat this man to death with my fists, to see his blood spraying all over his face and dripping down his shirt as I pound and pound and pound on him, not stopping until I feel better, until I’m no longer picturing him holding a gun to Olivia’s head.
I turn and walk out of the shack. I need air. Lots of air and lots of space. Being so close to the man that not only killed my mother, but that was contemplating doing the same thing to Olivia is just too much for me to bear without ripping someone’s throat out. I’m smart enough to know when my control is slipping, though. So getting out is my only option. I’ll leave Nash to follow me when he’s done. And at this point, if he kills the guy after I leave, then so be it. We’ll find another way.
I hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Olivia
I bet I’ve looked at the office door ten thousand times, hoping each time to see Cash’s face there. I’m on pins and needles. It’s like a sharp knife to the gut every time I think of him not returning my confession of love. But, I love him. I’m in love with him. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life knowing he died to save me. If I never get to be with him, never get to live the dream with him, never get his whole heart, it would never change the fact that I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And just the thought of him leaving this earth, this life because of me is unbearable. Even if I can’t have him, just knowing he’s alive…and healthy…and safe…would be enough.
Just knowing he’s out there…somewhere…
For the thousandth time, I feel the burn of tears at the backs of my eyes.
Please God, please God, please God.
That mantra has gone through my head almost continually. I don’t know how in the world I’ve made a single drink tonight. I must have a pretty freakin’ awesome autopilot. As long as it’s not dressing me, that is.
Once more, I glance at the door. As my eyes are drifting away, rife with disappointment, they pass Marco. He smiles. It’s not a flirtatious smile or a particularly happy smile. It’s more a smile of sympathy. I wonder what he’s thinking, what he knows.
I’m not sure why I even care anymore. If things don’t work out with Cash and me I won’t be working here any longer anyway, so what’s the big deal?
You’re an idiot. That’s the big deal.
True. Very true.
I see the house lights dim. That’s how I know a slow song is coming up in the rotation. That’s just what I need right now—a sappy love song to finish ripping my heart out.
I recognize the Saigon Kick song after the first few bars. My father taught me well.
As I suspected, it feels like a knife to the chest. The worry over Cash coupled with the lyrics is enough to take my breath. Literally. For a few seconds I feel like I can’t breathe.
But then, suddenly, I can.
There, standing in the doorway of the office, is Cash. His eyes lock with mine and I feel them, really feel them all through my body. It’s like standing naked in the middle of the night during a warm summer rain. He’s everywhere. He’s on my skin, under my skin, in my heart, in my soul.
I feel like I might burst with the desire to go to him. It takes every ounce of my willpower to stay put, to school my expression. To pretend. But I do it. Somehow, I do it.
Until he starts toward me.
And then I stop. Stop everything. Stop moving, stop breathing, stop thinking. All I can do is stare as Cash’s long legs eat up the distance between us. Without a single word, he shoulders his way through the crush of people. When he reaches me, he steps up to the bar, reaches across it and offers me his hand.
His eyes are still on mine and the rest of the world has disappeared. Suddenly it doesn’t matter who’s watching. Nothing matters but Cash. Nothing ever has. And nothing ever will again.
I slide my fingers into his and he tugs on my hand. I step onto the rail and put one knee on the bar. Cash releases my hand, reaches forward and sweeps me off the slick countertop and into his arms.
I can feel his breath, coming hot and fast, fanning my cheeks. I can feel his need, wild and hungry, searing my soul. And, for just a second, I think I can feel his love, too. It burns me, but in a completely different way. Like a brand that says I’ll always be his and he’ll always be mine.
And then he drops his head and his lips cover mine. Vaguely, I hear shouts and hollers and clapping, but I don’t care. I don’t care who sees or who knows or how they feel about it. I care about the man carrying me. Always carrying me.
When Cash lifts his head, his mouth is curved into a mischievous smile.
“Have I told you that I love you?” he asks.
My heart does a triple somersault right inside my chest, one I feel is mirrored in my beaming smile.
“No. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered that.”
Cash starts walking toward the side stairs, the ones that lead to the VIP room where I first met him. I don’t care where he takes me, just as long as he doesn’t let me go.
Ever.
“Well it’s your own fault. Every time I had a great opportunity to tell you, you beat me to the punch. And you know as well as I do that I’m not the kind of guy to let someone steal his thunder. I like my thunder big. And loud.”
“Oh, I know you do,” I tease. “And this time,” I say, tipping my head back toward the cheering crowd, “you’ve got it. In spades.”
“The funny thing is, the only thing I want is you. Just you. If it was up to me, I’d make the world disappear and it would be just us. Just you and me.”
“I wish you were a magician.”
“Well, I’m not magician, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says with a wink.
“You do?”
“I do. Wanna see?”
“Of course.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, at the top, Cash bends so I can open the VIP room door long enough for him to slip inside. It closes automatically behind us.
He carries me to the center of the room and sets me on my feet. I look around at the interior that signified the day my life would change forever. It doesn’t look any different physically—black carpet, black walls, crazy lights, one whole wall of two-way mirrors that look like windows, and the bar that sits in front of them—but it feels like night and day.