“Are you okay?” Wes asks, his voice dripping with what must be fake concern.
“What?” I snap out of my reverie and can’t help but stare at his exposed arms, covered in bulging muscles and damn,those tattoos. Seeing them up close is intoxicating. His right forearm has ivy and roses covering all of the skin, snaking up into his sleeve and reappearing at the crook of his shoulder and neck. It’s beautiful. His other forearm has a skull with a dagger through the eye and a thorny vine without flowers disappearing into his hoodie sleeve.
I got a tattoo after my father died. It was the start of my road to freedom from my family and Shane, and represents strength and transformation. It’s a giant phoenix with its wings spread, ascending while facing upward, the image starting below my right breast and stretching out along my right side and onto my hip.
Shane disappeared before he even realized I had it.
That’s two fucked-up men I’ll be free of soon.
My brother, the third? I can’t bring myself to cut him out of my life. Not yet, anyway. I don’t think he’s a bad person. He just needs to reassess his priorities.
“You just had about a million expressions cross your face,” Wes says, again with the kind voice. He’s examining my face as if he really wants to understand me.
“What, so you’re an emotional mind reader?” I snap at him. Fuck him! He has me zip-tied. Zip-tied!
The asshole has the nerve to grin.
“I have been told I have a very high emotional IQ.”
“Told by whom?” What on earth is he talking about? Emotional IQs? I almost forget to be mad and scared.
Wes shrugs, and we stare at each other for a full minute, him with an infuriatingly adorable little smirk on his full lips, and me giving my best scowl, but I’m sure it’s coming off as confusion. He’s got a sharp jawline and icy blue eyes that look almost clear. Broad shoulders, sinewy forearms hinting at muscles for days. He is truly a beautiful man.
“Alright, Callie Callahan,” Wes says in a soft voice, licking his lips as he watches me examine his face. He sits up and crosses his arms, his shoulders pushing against his sleeves. “Why don’t we talk about finding your husband?”
“Huh?” I twist my wrists, but the plastic bites into my flesh even more.
“You messaged me to meet up. Said you wanted me to find your husband?—”
“Ex husband, as soon as I can make it happen.” I interrupt him because I hate referring to Shane as my husband, even though it’s technically true. And it feels important that Wes understands that.
“Right. Okay.” Wes nods thoughtfully. “So let’s talk about that.”
“I don’t want to work with you anymore.” The nerve of this guy? I scoff. “Is this how you handle your business?”
But of course it is. Criminals and all.
Still, I kinda wish I hadn’t just said those words. If Wes doesn’t help me, then who will? I’ll just head back to Jake’s apartment, head hanging, and continue to wait for Shane to show up?
Wes raises an eyebrow, then glances at the fire, which is still glowing warm against my back.
“Why don’t you think about it for a few more minutes before you make that decision? I need to grab more firewood.” Wes nods outside. “We’ll need it tonight.”
“Tonight?” My voice is high-pitched, but when I glance out the large window, I have a sinking feeling, like an anchor slipping from my lungs to my gut.
It’s dark, but an outside light illuminates the fact that there’s a freaking blizzard outside.
Wes is already zipping up his jacket. He pulls on blackgloves and a full black balaclava. When his hand is on the front door to the cabin, he turns to me. Only his eyes are visible, and I can see the blue from across the room.
Oh my god. Why do I find him so hot right now?? Is it the freaking mask? I never knew I had a mask kink. I don’t! No mask kink. No zip tie kink. No kink for bad-boy kidnappers. I’m not one of those girls.
But this makes me wonder if maybe I am? Because I like what’s happening right now way more than a boring-ass good girl should.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Then Wes fuckingwinks.
“Hey!” I shout, but then he’s out the door.
At least his absence gives me a second to think, like he suggested.
