Chad's Chase (Loving All Wrong Book 2) (20 page)

I
spent the entire day in Chad’s library, alternating between napping and reading.

Anyone else would’ve been snooping around this place from top to bottom, but I never could get it done. Not unless I had the permission. See, a dozen years ago I’d been kidnapped, and then I was given a long list of rules to follow. Having respect for all those who had authority and command over you was one of the tallest rules that, if broken, had the nastiest of consequences.

Even though circumstances were different with Chad, I guess it was still ingrained in me somehow, because each time I went to his bedroom door, my heartbeat would take off with wild, frantic beats, my palms would get sweaty, and I couldn’t make myself reach out and turn the doorknob.

In my mind, Chad
was
my captor, he
had
command over me, and there was this red warning sign flashing in my head telling me I would suffer terrible consequences if I went inside his room.

So I’d given up, asked Vivian to show me the gym, spent an hour running the treadmill, and another hour kicking the shit out of a punching bag.

Showered after that, then retreated to the library, deciding to remain there until Chad returned. Mainly because it was one of the few rooms that didn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows. Given all that was going on right now, I was paranoid as hell, so I deemed staying away from open windows the smart thing to do.

I was lying supine in a burgundy chaise with a book resting open on my stomach, succumbing to yet another nap, when I thought I heard Chad’s voice. I jerked upright, the book flying to the ground. But Chad wasn’t in the library.

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I got up, picked up the book and set it aside, then navigated out to the main area.

Night had fallen.

Following his deep, easy, flowing voice, I found Chad sitting at the dinner table, bare-chested and fresh from a shower. In front of him on the table was a half-empty china plate, with only chicken bones and asparagus left behind, a cold bottle of Corona in his hand as he discussed whatever with his main bodyguard sitting down at the other end of the table.

So…he’d been back for a while and ate without me. Okay. No hard feelings.

What stopped me, though, was his hair. He’d had it cut. The back low and completely off his neck, the top longer. The longer hair had made him look like a sexy, sunburned surfer, but this new haircut made him more urbane, regally handsome, his facial features sharpened. He was devastating.

Devastatingly beautiful.

Never had I thought a day would come when I’d be drooling over a man instead of tits and lipstick lips. But Chad…Chad made me want things I never knew I needed.

Manners be damned, I strolled up to the table and interrupted their conversation. “How long have you been back?”

As if he hadn’t seen or heard my approach, Chad’s head swiveled to the side, eyes raising to mine. And I bit my tongue to control my anger when I noticed a shiner on his cheekbone.

He opened his mouth as though to respond with something very Chad-like, but then he ditched the idea and took a swig of his beer instead, studying my face, my neck, gaze lingering on my breasts, then back up to my face. “Long enough.”

“Who the hell did that to you?” I demanded to know. “And why?”

No answer. Just a fixed stare, with a hint of something akin to appreciation in his depths.

A grunt came from Ronnie as he pushed back his chair with an unnecessary screech. When I looked at him, his face was nothing but an ugly picture of pure, undiluted hatred for me, his icy blue eyes firing daggers as he stalked past me, making sure his big, beefy shoulder slammed into mine as he did.

Pissed right the hell off that he had Chad sporting a shiner, I didn’t let him get far as I turned and forcefully planted the sole of my foot in the back of his right knee, hitting his weak spot and knocking him off-balance. His big body wobbled before he dropped soundly on his left knee with a leonine growl.

In slow motion, he turned his head to glare at me over his shoulder. “Next time you think to try this shit with me, just remember,
he
wants to keep you alive, I
don’t
. I don’t like you. And I don’t trust you.”

Okay, so I tried to kill his boss; he didn’t like me. Whatever. I couldn’t give a shit. Get over it.

“And
I
don’t give a shit,” I said, advancing on him. “You’re picking fights with me, a
girl
, when your boss is sporting a shiner? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Ronnie made an angry sound in his throat. “You don’t know jackshit ‘bout what happened.”

“I don’t. But what I do know is that he pays you to protect him, and that’s exactly what you should be doing and stop pouting and throwing shit in my sandbox because you’ve got no one to play with in yours!”

Ronnie jumped to his feet, tall and towering, but I wasn’t intimidated, I didn’t back down, and I didn’t give him a chance to speak as I jabbed a finger at his impenetrable chest. “If you don’t wanna get kicked out of the fucking playground, you need to start playing nice, BTW.”

“BTW?”

“Yeah,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, defiant. “Big, tall, and
worthless
.”

Face growing red either from humiliation or rage, Ronnie took one long step toward me. “Listen up, you little bit—”

“Quit it. Both of you,” Chad commanded, his voice a leveled, unperturbed slice of calm confidence, shattering our hot and roiling rage. “Blood, sit down. Ronnie, we’ll finish later.”

I glared at Ronnie, waiting for him to make the first move. Of course, because my ass was badder than his, he huffed and stomped off.

When I heard the elevator open and close, I sat down where Ronnie had been. Chad looked mildly entertained, but the shiner was bothering me. I wanted to drive a knife repeatedly into the chest of whoever hit him.

Speaking of chest…

Chad’s was on display, and for a moment I just stared. The last two times I saw him with his shirt off we were in the dark, so I never got the chance to make out his tats. Now…now he was a beautiful canvas.

His right arm was a sleeve of three-dimensional tribal art, from shoulder blade to wrist. A huge tail, like that of a dragon’s—I couldn’t tell for sure—crept from around his back to his abdomen, the pointy end of the tail disappearing down the front of his jeans. His other shoulder had flames of fire creeping over, seemingly a part of the back tattoo, but the flames were black like the other tattoos, not colored.

On his left pectoral, was one that piqued my interest. An empty birdcage. It was nestled on a bed of black roses, with its little door wide open. Inside, was a small, heart-shaped key, and on one of the petals of the black roses was a clock. Not exactly the kind of tat you’d find on a man, so this one meant something. On his side below that tat were inscriptions. I squinted. Lyrics. Lyrics to…the fuck? Celine Dion? Yeah. Sure as hell those were lyrics to
My Heart Will Go On
.

Now
that
was definitely not the kind of tat one would find on a man. Especially a black-hearted killer like him.

Chad was the most mystifying person I’ve ever known.

After staring at that particular tattoo a lot longer than the others, trying to decipher the story behind it, knowing Chad was watching me, I finally sat down and dragged my gaze from his bare chest to his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You deceivingly resembled peace and purity,” he answered after about a minute of studying me. “Guess I prefer it when you’re asleep. Peace reigns.”

He’d been in the library watching me sleep? I wasn’t sure if I should find that romantic or creepy.

“But I told Vivian to wake me when you came back. I told her I wanted to eat dinner with you.”

“Dinner with me?” Chad’s chuckle was tinged with a touch of bitterness as he leaned forward with his arms on the table, staring me down. “What do you think this is, Blood?”

I pursed my lips, holding my cool. He was back to being the shithead he was this morning before the elevator scene.

“Last night, you chose women, remember?”

So that’s what his attitude’s about? The bullshit argument from last night in the garden. Seriously? He was still upset about our fuck meaning nothing?

“What was this morning in the elevator, then?” I asked him, opting not to tell him that all I’d said in the garden last night was a truckload of bullshit. I felt more things for him than I could contain.

“That was me shutting you up so I could leave.”

“Fucking liar.” I laughed, one completely unrelated to humor as I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head. “You are such a cowardly
liar
.”

Chad twisted the beer bottle between his fingers, watching me from under his lashes. “What do
you
think it was?”

“You
want
me. Just fucking admit it and stop lying to both of us.”

Lifting the Corona to his lips, he took a swig, then shrugged. “Why bother when it’s one-sided?”

“If it’s one-sided, I’m here talking to you…why?”

“Because you want to fuck. Not specifically by me. Just that I’ll do for now because I prohibited you from ordering a call-girl. Would we be having this conversation if you had that girl?”

I didn’t answer. Mostly because I was stubborn and wanted him to believe his off calculations.

“Look, we have a lot of pressing matters in hand, I can’t do this with you. Today was active. I’m beat. Literally and figuratively. So I’m going to bed.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Like I told you, I don’t do meaningless sex. My days are numbered, so my time is valuable.”

Pushing back my chair, too, I stood. “Why are you being such a girl about this whole fuck and feelings and feelings going with fuck and no fuck without feelings thing?” I asked. “Fuck feelings.”

Every bit of easiness left his face, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t respond. He just walked away, giving me the opportunity to see the tat on his back. It was indeed a dragon. A massive dragon, artistically vivid, wings spreading over the upper half of his back, the beast’s head breathing hellacious fire over the right shoulder. Its thick, long tail running down Chad’s spine and disappearing around his side. The expressive ink creature was as scary and intense as the man himself.

When he was a distance off down the hall to his bedroom, he threw over his shoulder, “Have a nice night, Blood.”

Obviously, he was in a shitty mood, so I didn’t bother chasing him. After finger-fucking me in the elevator this morning, he’d dropped something close to a promise for more later, which had me anticipating his return. His attitude now made no sense.

Something must have happened on the road. That shiner on his cheekbone said it all.

Resigning to the idea that he just needed some rest and time to himself, I trudged to the kitchen and helped myself to dinner, then ate in front of the television in the living area while watching
NCIS
reruns.

I was doing everything in my power to keep my mind off the inevitable bad shit that would be hitting the fan anytime soon. See, The Voice phoned me once a week for updates. And now that Chad had burned out my apartment and everything in it, when The Voice made his call for the week and didn’t get me, then sees nothing on the news about my death, he was going to think I ran. And he was going to come looking. And was going to find me.

He always found me.

Bad shit happened. Terror was coming. But being where Chad was made me think that all was right with the world. I guess I was using him as my shield, looking to him to keep me safe. Which was the stupidest thing I could ever make the mistake of doing. Because the last time I trusted him, he’d ordered his lackeys to duct tape me and lock me in a room while he murdered the rest of my family in cold blood.

Evidently, I hadn’t learned a damn thing, because there I was trusting, believing and…loving…Oh God…
loving
him all over again.

And then I knew, right there on his couch while watching
NCIS,
tears welling in my eyes, I knew what this was. The reason I lost my head around him. All the feelings and emotions and weakness, was because
I still loved him
. The reason why I subconsciously botched every attempt to kill him. It was all because I didn’t hate him, and I didn’t want him dead. I wanted to make myself forgive him, believe there was good in him, trust him, and love him again.

And I succeeded in that, but failed everything else.

This, all of this, was wrong. Asinine.

Loving all wrong. I was loving all wrong.

Appetite lost, I switched off the television and went to put my dish in the sink. Using the back of my hand to dry my stupid, dramatic tears, I dragged my ass down the hall to my bedroom.

Chad’s bedroom door was left ajar and I could see the TV light flashing through the darkness, but I didn’t even bother, I just pushed into my own room and closed the door.

Switching on the lights, I was caught off guard by the sight of the woman sleeping on my bed, automatically reaching for a non-existent gun at my waist.

Nadia.

In a tight red dress and red heels, it seemed as if she’d been waiting for me and fell asleep.

The hell?

Snaking quietly over to the bed, I fixed one knee over her slim torso to half-straddle her, keeping my other foot planted to the ground, then wrapped my fingers around her long, gracious neck and began strangling the life out of her.

Nadia’s eyes popped open like a blinking baby doll, her hands slapping at my wrist as she fought desperately to breathe.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

With a deep wheeze, she squeezed out, “M-M-Mr. Niiveux.”

“What?” Her response threw me.

She repeated her answer, and I released her, then waited for her lungs to start functioning again before asking, “Why?”

“To be with you.” Nadia sat up and rubbed her throat. “Something about you choosing to be with me?”

Ah, Nadia was my call-girl.

“How long have you been here?”

“He picked me up hours ago and brought me here. Told me not to leave the room. I’ve been waiting for a while.” She looked down at herself, and then the bed. “Guess I got bored and fell asleep.”