Lose him.
Chapter 29
Brody
The Austin skyline stretches out in front of me. The dome of the capital building shimmers like a lighthouse, and the Colorado River meanders below us, glittering indigo and gold.
Though the temps are lower in Texas than California, it almost feels hotter without the ocean breeze. The weather’s still mild enough to keep the windows down, and since we’ve traveled through four states with no sign of a Russian tagalong, I’ll take it.
Add that to last night, and I should be nice and relaxed at the moment.
Every time I check the rearview like a good little driver, all I see is us stretched out together in the back. Trinity’s legs encircling my torso as I pumped deeper and deeper inside her until her eyes rolled back in her head, until her back arched as she moaned and repeated my name, over and over. Those tight nipples rubbing on my chest through the entire endeavor.
When she came, it was like the heavens parted. The intensity of her beautiful orgasm rivaled the storm overhead. With her face all blissed out, she stole the oxygen from my lungs.
I did that.
Then we caught our breath and did it all over again. Until Trinity, I’ve never once in my life wanted to fuck a woman twice in a row with no break in between.
We smashed a barrier last night. In her field, I think it’s called an attachment bond.
Yeah, I know fancy psychology jargon too. I understand what it means to connect with someone. To experience the warm cocoon of safety. Or at least, I remember how it used to feel. That sensation bursts inside me with a vengeance.
My mother used to be the only person who ever gave me a sense of security. I was a high-energy shit who got into plenty of mischief, and my mother was my safe space. She protected me from Declan until she died when I was seven.
Losing a parent young is devastating. Losing your last shred of shelter, your storm cellar, changes you. Growing up with a mafia boss playing the part of dad because he’s too ashamed to admit his wife cheated is like living through an F5 tornado every single day.
I used to dream of escaping this life. I wasn’t built to be a mafia man’s son. That’s when my breath failed me, my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest, and Maeve did her best to comfort me by acting like a second mother.
Over time, though, my ass eventually got trained like a dog. Acting as Declan’s lackey became the only thing I knew how to do.
My whole life.
I learned to live outside the storm cellar. To not only face but excel at beating the living shit out of the storm. I fight off Category 5 hurricanes on the regular these days. It’s what I do. It’s all I do.
Until last night, when that sensation of belonging somewhere—to someone—hit hard for the first time since my mother was alive.
This job started out as just another bullet point on my resumé. Then Trinity had to go and make me feel…
Understood. Valued.
I don’t know what to do with that.
How am I supposed to go through with my strategy to deliver her and the drive to Declan knowing how she affects me?
Can I hand her over to my father—betray her and everything we’ve shared—just to earn that man’s favor? What would happen if I said,Fuck it, and let Trinity and her drive with incriminating information go? Hell, what would a fresh startwiththis woman look like? For mere seconds, I allow myself to imagine waking up next to her every morning, seeing those beautiful green eyes each day, hearing that laugh…
Blinking, I force those thoughts from my brain. I can’t afford to go soft.
I side-eye the woman riding shotgun. She’s behaved like a stellar hostage all day and night. Perfectly agreeable.
Perfectly quiet. Once the storm ended, we slept for a little while, woke, and hit the road again, and she hasn’t uttered a word since.
One second, we were reinventing how to fuck. The next, I morphed into some kind of pariah in her eyes.
I keep revisiting what we did and what transpired afterward. Nothing I can think of should’ve caused this weird shift in her.
I glare at the road ahead. When her hands roamed my body, every scar she touched felt like giving away a piece of my soul. Traitors, every last one of them.
