When she wanted to do a FaceTime call, we could see the intent in Jeff’s eyes from a mile away. The second she got on the call with him, he planned to expose us. But Zade had already anticipated that. It’s not hard to assume the old fart would try to pull one over on us. He’s as predictable as he is stupid.
Everyone has a weakness. A soft spot like on the back of a baby’s head. Hit that spot hard enough, and they’re done for.
Of all people—his wife, kids, and mistress—his mother was the catalyst. Funny that he’s a momma’s boy when women are the number one thing he doesn’t respect.
Bernadette Shelton is nearly on her deathbed anyway, but after one of Zade’s mercenaries took a heart-warming picture of her lying in bed on oxygen, and his gun poised on the tank, Jeff decided to act right. He doesn’t know that Zade nearly kicked his employee’s ass for it and forced him to leave her an edible arrangement for the scare, but the threat worked regardless.
Zade coached Jeff on the story, he then answered Claire’s questions, and she decided it was legitimate enough to come off her cozy island.
Mission accomplished.
Her flight is sixteen hours, so we went back to Parsons to catch up on sleep while Zade is having a team watch over Jeff at the distillery. Gary… well, he died. He was useless with his blown-out kneecaps, so Michael finally put him out of his misery.
“Baby, if you want me dead, I’ll hand you the knife to stick in my chest. Sending us both over the cliff would be a little overkill.”
“And I thought my mom was the dramatic one,” I mutter.
My back is still to him, but I swear I can hear the fucker grinning. “You’re right, you’re the sensible one.”
Shithead.
“You want to tell me why you’re out here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Was hearing the footsteps again,” I admit.
“Seems like they’re manifesting your fears,” he says. His presence closes in on me, and I feel him crouch down beside me. If the ground beneath me wasn’t being tested before, it definitely is with his weight.
“What do the footsteps remind you of?” he questions softly, his voice whispering across the shell of my ear.
“My lack of freedom,” I say, staring out at the Bay. “They remind me of how trapped I was. Every time I’d hear her heels coming toward me, something terrible always followed, and there was never any escaping it. There was one time I heard them, and I tried prying all the nails out of the window so I could throw myself out of it. Didn’t even care if it killed me. All I accomplished was breaking my nails instead.”
His hands land on my hips, and he’s pulling me back, pressing me into his hard chest.
“So sitting on the edge of this cliff makes you feel free?”
“Yes,” I say, turning my head to look up at him. His eyes glitter in the sunlight, and I can’t tell which is more dangerous: the edge of this cliff or the way Zade looks at me. “And it makes me feel alive.”
His hand comes up around my throat, tilting my chin further back. His full lips brush across mine, eliciting sharp tingles throughout my body.
“Is it the promise of death that makes you feel alive, little mouse?”
“Yes,” I whisper, electricity dancing between our mouths.
“Then we will both taste heaven together,” he murmurs.
He kisses me softly and slowly, and I feel every second of it in my soul.
Pulling away, he directs, “Face me, baby.”
Biting my lip, I spin and lean back on my hands, bending my knees and spreading them apart.
His eyes drop, traveling across the curves of my body, sending chills down my spine. He looks at me as if he wants to rip me apart with his teeth, and I don’t think I would stop him if he tried.
My breath hitches as his hand slips beneath my t-shirt, and I shiver from the feel of his skin on mine. Slowly, he lifts the fabric up until I’m forced to lean forward so he can remove it altogether.
I shiver again, the breeze whispering across my heated flesh.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
He plants a hand on my chest and roughly pushes me. I gasp, convinced that I’m about to fall off the cliff, but he catches me. I’m flat on my back, and only my head dangles clear over the edge, but it doesn’t calm the absolute panic circulating throughout my system.
I lift my head, staring at him with wide eyes, my heart racing.
“Jesus,” I breathe. He smirks, reaches beneath me, and unclasps my bra, my nipples hardening immediately beneath the cool breeze.