Chapter 23

I took the seat across from Mr. Frankfire and stared at the empty hallway. The man who'd disappeared down it wasn't normal. He'd shaken me. Climbed inside my head. Left behind an echo of the rough sounds that'd rumbled from his chest. Each inch of skin his hands had touched prickled with awareness. My stomach clenched.

"Here, girl." A candy hit my hand, and Mr. Frankfire lifted a brow. "Focus on something else."

I unwrapped the treat and took a bite. "I'm perfectly fine. Zeke let me stay here. It's his RV. That's just his nephew."

A smug smile twisted his mouth. "That's good. I told you he'd find a place for you. Just... be careful. Don't shit where you eat."

"I'm not." Yet. Because you're here.

He snorted. "Don't give me that crap. I know a wistful look when I see one. You've got those woman eyes. Daydreaming and lashes all," he wiggled his fingers, "aflutter."

My eyes narrowed. "I don't flutter."

"Yes, you do. You're a woman. You all flutter." He took another bite, face a mask of pock marks and scars, and eyes full of a wisdom I wanted to beat out of him.

The last thing I needed was love advice from someone who thought the president was secretly a lizard. "How'd you find me?"

"I asked your new boss. He told me you were staying out here." He took another bite as he simultaneously shoved candy into his coat pockets. "I'd hoped it would be something like this." He ran out of room and moved onto his jeans. "But I wanted to be sure. It's dangerous out on these streets." He unzipped his bag and, with no shame at all, shoved a full bag inside. "Now that I know you're safe, I can go about my way." He smiled, clutched my hand, then stood.

"What do you mean? I'm not abandoning you."

He paused to study me, eyebrows furrowed in a way that made his already wrinkled face even more scrunched. "You? Abandon me?" He shook his head. "It's me who's been helping you, girl. Not the other way around. Now, I'll remember you with great fondness." He patted his bag, signifying the candy inside. "But I'm done babysitting. You've got your shot here, if you fuck it up, that's on you."

I gaped at him. "Don't be an ass! I plan to save up some money and get a place for us! I was going to–"

Mr. Frankfire stepped forward, and in a move uncharacteristic of either of us, he pulled my head into his chest and gave me an awkward hug. "You're a good girl, Jessie. Too good for the shit that's been handed to you." His gnarled hand patted my head before he pulled away. "But I'm an old man. I've chosen my life. Don't you go thinking you can change it."

He walked away without a backwards glance, and it wasn't until the door shut behind him that I noticed the prickling sensation in my eyes. They were tears. Mother fucker. I wiped them away and thought about running after him.

He was wrong. As much as I'd have loved to forget all about the crazy old man, I wouldn't. I couldn't. I'd bring him some food first chance I got, and if I had to drag his ass when I got a place, I would.

My gaze drifted to the hallway. One thing was for sure. The old man was right. I needed to put a stop to this. I was a grown woman with a lot to do, and becoming involved with a man, this one especially, was the worst idea I could possibly have.

I just need to tell him. Be straight about it. I stood and slowly walked in the direction he'd disappeared. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I can't get involved with you. Whatever this is will have to stop... Yeah. That's good. Keep it real simple. It's a work thing. It would be unprofessional. A conflict of interests. We're living in the same...

Bard stepped through the backdoor, muscles just as tightly wound as they'd been when he walked away. "Is your friend gone?" he asked, and the sound of his voice caused goosebumps to rise along my flesh.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I was about to–"

His lips hit mine, harder than before, rough and deep and everything a woman could ever fantasize about. A rush of heat flooded through my chest and pooled into my stomach. Everything I'd planned to say left my lungs in the form of a low moan, and Bard gripped me tighter.

Powerful hands grabbed my thighs and lifted me in one swift move to wrap my legs around his waist. His tongue never left mine, ardent desperate kisses that made my chest tighten and heart thunder.

He backed us into the bedroom and lowered me to the bed. "I want you." His hand drifted under my shirt, rough palms that scratched my skin just enough to send tingles across my skull.

I arched into him. The hell with mistakes. The hell with good ideas. I'd deal with the consequences when they came, but right then, I just needed to scratch that torturous itch that he'd caused. I needed to rid myself of it. To give in and then, when it was over, I could let go.

Bard gripped the material, pulled it over my head, and tossed it to the side as if it stung his hand. His eyes roamed over me, from my face to my collar bones, my breast, my stomach, then back again. "You did all these," he asked, the question smooth as smoke in the otherwise silent atmosphere. He trailed his fingers across my side, outlining the shape of the swirling ink, then down to my hip bone where the tip of a wing just peeked from beneath my waist band.

"Yes." I barely recognized the sultry sound of my own voice. I'd never sounded like that before. This man, something about him, did things to me no other man had ever done. He set my blood on fire, turned my brain to mush, hollowed me out and left me begging to be filled.

But nothing is ever perfect. Karma just makes it look like it is.

Bard's eyes narrowed, and next thing I knew, he gripped my shoulder and pulled. "No." His jaw clenched, eyes ablaze, and when they met mine, they cut me like they never had before. Not sweet. Not lustful. Just... rage. "You..." His eyes widened a fraction, lip curled around a half sneer. "This whole time."

I tried to scramble back, but the grip on my arm was too tight. His fingers dug in, and his thumb rested just below the mark of my former self. The eagle. The onyx eagle.

Shit. He recognized it. He knew... "What are you talking about?"

His face fell, eyes darkened. He shook his head from side to side in a motion so slow it was terrifying. "Don't do that." He pinned me with his bottom half as his face came within an inch of mine. Those eyes, his eyes, seared into mine in a way that made my blood rush for an entirely different reason. "I know this symbol. I'm not an idiot. You've been playing me."

"What?" My breath caught, and I tried to break free again. "You're wrong. I'm not–"

"Who sent you?" The sound of his voice combined with his volume made my heart jump. A million memories flashed before my eyes, a million painful reminders, and I was back again. A cracking whip, a harsh whisper. His grip was too tight, his body too close.

"Fuck off!" I bucked beneath him, my own instincts taking over. I needed to go. I needed to leave. If I could just get away, just wiggle out from beneath him and make it to the door...

His jaw clenched, but his eyes dug deeper. They scanned my face. "I won't hurt you. He knows that. That's why he sent you." He ran a hand along my hair, then lowered his mouth to my ear. "I'm going to let you go. When I do, you go back to wherever you came from, and you tell him this," he said, words slow and clipped. "Men on the mountain don't forget." His eyes met mine, dark and deadly. "Tell him I look forward to hearing from him."

My hands shook, adrenaline rushed, and if I thought I'd known what fear was, it was nothing compared to how Bard appeared in that moment. I didn't give a fuck what history he had with them. All I cared about was self preservation, and right then, that meant getting the fuck out of that room. "Yeah. Sure. I'll tell him."

He pulled back, and the moment he did, I shot out from beneath him and scrambled towards the door. I snatched my pack from the shelf, and said the hell with the shirt I'd been wearing. He could keep it. A souvenir.

"Wait!" He gripped my arm before I could make it off the mattress. "Wait," quieter this time, a hush of a word spoken on a breath. "Your back..."

I flinched. The scars. "Let go, and I'll leave."

"You weren't sent."

No fucking shit. "Let go, Bard. I'm leaving."

"He did it." It was a rumble, even more aggressive than he'd been before. "You're running... Jesus, Tequila. I'm sor–"

I turned back, saw his shocked look, his fixated stare. "I wasn't sent," I said, my fear vanishing as anger took its place. "But you're right to ask me to leave. He's looking for me, and regardless of whether or not he's looking for you, he'll kill you just the same." I jerked away, and his hand fell to the mattress. "I should know." I met his gaze, tried to infuse some of my own hatred into my eyes so he'd fully grasp what I said next. "I was his old lady."

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