Primal Instinct (22 page)

Colt ground his teeth before answering. “Because you guys are the best. And I want the best for Taylor.” Her fingers tightened on his. “I'm still the primary on this, but I do need backup. Even with the restraining order, that psycho's still out there, and I don't feel like taking on the Grim Weavers by myself.”

Slowly, Sean nodded, his expression completely unreadable. “You're primary on this, but any situations that require a second or a third, call in, and I'll send someone or come myself.” He shot Colt a pointed glance. “This doesn't mean you're getting your job back. This is temporary until we get Taylor sorted out. Understood?”

Colt nodded, relief flooding him that he'd have help—the best help—keeping Taylor safe.

Y
ou sure you want to play?” asked Colt, one eyebrow raised as he chalked the end of his pool cue. Taylor wrapped her fingers around her beer bottle, the glass cool and wet against her fingers. For the past several days she'd been cooped up at Colt's, alternating between working on her music and fucking Colt until she couldn't even remember her name. And while both of those activities were both fun and fulfilling, she was starting to feel a bit stir-crazy. She'd begged Colt for a night out, to a bar, a movie, anything, but he'd refused. She had, however, managed to talk him into a game of pool at the table in his loft.

Taylor took a long pull on her beer and then nodded as she swallowed, smiling at him. “Yeah. I haven't played in ages, but I used to be pretty good.”

The corner of Colt's mouth quirked up in that cocky half smile that made her want to drag him into the bedroom and fall to her knees in front of him.

“Oh yeah? Why don't we make it interesting, then?” he said.

She took another sip of her beer and then brushed by him, grabbing a cue of her own. She glanced over her shoulder. “Interesting how?”

He leaned back against the pool table and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “I win, I get to tie you up.”

She leaned into him and dragged her lips over the shell of his ear, her stomach exploding with butterflies at the idea of being bound for him. “Fine. But if I win, you have to do a striptease for me. And I get to pick the music.”

He pulled back, his green eyes glittering. “Deal. You want to break?”

“Sure, but I'm not very good at it,” she lied. “Will you rack them for me?” She sipped her beer, watching, with pure, female appreciation, the way Colt's forearms flexed as he racked the balls. She walked around to the other side of the table, cue in hand, and bent forward, loosening her grip on the cue as she lined up her shot. She glanced up at Colt through her lashes, biting her lip as she pulled her cue back. She took her shot, which just barely grazed the cue ball and sent it rolling slowly into the side rail. “Shit. Does that count?”

Colt smiled at her, wolfish and hot. “Why don't you let me break?” He repositioned the cue ball and broke smoothly, scattering the balls across the felt. As ZZ Top played on the stereo, Colt proceeded to sink ball after ball, while Taylor sunk a couple of balls but flubbed the majority of her shots.

As Colt bent over the table, he shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you said you knew how to play,” he said just before he sunk an impressive bank shot.

“I do! I just haven't played in a while. Give me a round to shake the rust off.” As the game progressed, she let herself sink a few more shots, just so her losing wasn't so obvious.

Several minutes later, Colt sunk the eight ball, winning the game, and he closed the distance between them, pinning her against the pool table. Before she could say anything, he kissed her, slow and deep. “I'm going to make you so happy you lost,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her earlobe.

“Mmm,” she purred, knowing he was 100 percent right about that. “Want to play again?”

He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling over her skin. “Sure, gorgeous. Same stakes?”

“How about double or nothing? If I win, I get to tie
you
up.” She felt his dick twitch against her hip and knew he was just as into that idea as she was.

“Deal. You want me to break again?”

“Nah. Lemme try again.” He stepped back and let her walk around to the end of the table. Instead of using the rack to organize the balls, she gathered them all at the end of the table and then used her forearms to rack them into a perfect triangle in seconds flat. She bent forward, lining up her cue with the cue ball and she glanced up, winking at Colt before she broke with a blistering crack, the balls shooting out across the felt. Colt stood still, staring at her with a half-pissed, half-turned-on expression on his face.

She tipped her chin at him. “Hey, we gonna play? It's your shot.”

Grumbling under his breath, he took his shot, but within a few minutes, Taylor had sunk all of her balls. Only the eight ball was left, and she took a sip of her beer before leaning forward and lining up her shot. Her cue poised in her hands, she looked up at Colt, who was watching her with a mix of admiration, lust, and the tiniest bit of irritation.

“I'm gonna make you so glad you lost,” she said, right before she sunk the eight ball and won the game.

He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the doorbell, and he held up one finger in a “hold that thought” gesture. “That's probably Carter. Sean said he'd be by to pick up the copies of my files I made for Virtus.”

“Oh, well, I want to come say hello and thank you. I always liked Carter.”

Colt studied her for a second, but with a tip of his head, he turned and left the room, Taylor following closely behind.

Colt glanced through the peephole and frowned. “Who is it?”

“Zack De Luca from Virtus. Carter had something come up with his kid, and he sent me to get the files,” called Zack through the door, his deep voice as familiar as ever. “Here's my ID. I can wait while you call into the office to verify.”

“Do you know him?”

She froze as her heart plummeted like a stone into her stomach, her eyes glued to Colt's front door as though, if she stared hard enough, she'd be able to see the man on the other side. She managed to nod weakly. “He's legit.”

Yeah, she knew him. Zack, the man she'd been hoping to avoid. Zack, the man who'd sent her into this little tailspin to begin with.

Tracking her gaze with an arched eyebrow, Colt turned to look at the door. He opened it, and Zack held out his hand to Colt. Colt shook it, glancing once again from Zack to Taylor. Zack zeroed his dark brown eyes in on her, rubbing a hand over his thick, dark brown hair. A layer of stubble clung to his jaw, framing his thick lips. “Hey, Taylor. It's, uh, been a while.”

Taylor glanced at Colt, whose eyes were bouncing back and forth between Zack and Taylor, and the line of Colt's shoulders tightened slightly, his expression darkening almost imperceptibly. Taylor knew, just looking at him, that he'd put two and two together and figured out that Zack was the guy she'd dated.

She straightened, and Colt clapped Zack on the shoulder, maybe a little harder than was necessary. “Colt Priestley. I don't remember you from when I was at Virtus.” Colt crossed his arms over his chest, studying Zack.

Zack rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and Taylor noticed the scrapes on his knuckles, probably from training. Zack's dream was to be a professional mixed-martial-arts fighter, and he was actively pursuing it, training almost every day and fighting professionally in one of the bigger fight promotions in Southern California.

“Oh, yeah. I think I was your replacement. After you…after you left.”

“And you know Taylor.” It wasn't a question.

“Zack and I dated,” said Taylor, wanting to get it out in the open. To get the honesty over with. She forced herself to meet Zack's eyes, just for a second, and then she looked down, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off of her jeans. “Hey.”

Her mind flashed back to when she'd told Zack she was in love with him, and he'd told her that he cared about her, but he wasn't in love with her. That he was sorry if she'd gotten the wrong idea, but they were just casual, having fun, not serious. That he wasn't looking for anything permanent, or long-term. The subtext, of course, was that he wasn't looking for anything serious, permanent or long-term
with her
. She'd handed him her heart, damaged and messed up as it was, offered it up to him, and he'd handed it back. It hadn't been good enough.

“Hey,” Zack answered, studying her the way a veterinarian might study a wounded tiger, wary and cautious. “It's good to see you. Sorry to hear about all the shit happening.”

She shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I'll go grab those files,” said Colt. “Be right back.” He slipped an arm around Taylor's waist as he passed and pulled her into him, planting a hot, hard kiss on her before releasing her and heading up the stairs.

He'd staked his claim, and damn if she didn't like it. More than like it.

She felt the weight of Zack's gaze on her, and after a deep breath, she met his eyes. She braced herself, but she was relieved when she found that her heart didn't flutter, that her breath didn't catch, that her skin didn't hum and vibrate when she looked at him. It used to. Now, looking at him, gorgeous as always—ridiculously gorgeous, really—she only felt a dull, residual ache, like a bruise that was almost healed, but was still a little sore if you pressed on it. An ache coupled with the heaviness of shared memories, both good and bad.

“I wasn't sure if I'd see you,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she'd intended.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. “When I heard about what was happening, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded, letting his words settle over her.

“For what it's worth,” he continued, “it was supposed to be Carter tonight, but he had something with his son, and I volunteered. Sean didn't want me on the rotation.”

“Thanks. That's, uh, nice of you to care.”

He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Taylor, I do care. I always have.” He shoved his hand back in his pocket. “I know I've said this before, but I need you to hear it. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I never meant to. I wish things had gone down differently.” He sighed heavily. “I let things go too far, and I don't expect forgiveness. I just want you to know that I didn't want to hurt you. That I do care about you.”

“You didn't want to, but you did hurt me, Zack. You did. But I know you didn't mean to. The whole situation got away from us, and for a while, I hated you for it. But as much as I wanted to hang on to that anger, to believe that all of this happened because you're an asshole, I know that's not true.” She felt lighter as the truth she hadn't known was buried deep inside her flowed free.

“Do you still hate me?”

She swallowed, mentally poking around through her baggage for the answer, for the truth. She looked at him—
really
looked at him—and shook her head. “No, Zack. I don't hate you.”

He nodded, the lines of his face softening a little as some of the tension left him. “Maybe if the timing had worked out differently, or...fuck, I don't know. I'm just sorry I couldn't love you the way you deserve.” Tentatively, he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Because you deserve it all, babe. You deserve someone who can love you so big and so hard that you don't even know what to do with all of it. More than anything, I just want you to be happy.”

Her throat thickened, and she swallowed, blinking away the tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. He'd never be able to undo the damage he'd caused, but hearing the words helped. Not just hearing them, but actually believing them, turning them over and examining them, and keeping them.

Colt came back down the stairs, and their eyes met. Her heart didn't flutter; it grew wings and tried to fly into his hands. Her breath didn't catch in her chest; it couldn't, because there was no oxygen in the room. Her skin didn't hum and vibrate; it caught fire and burned, every single cell in her body blooming into flame for him.

“Okay?” He mouthed the question as he walked toward her.

Taylor smiled and nodded, but her smile dropped away when she noticed that every line of Colt's body had gone hard and tense. Zack's hand went to his hip and the gun holstered there. Three men in suits had emerged from what looked like an armored Lincoln Navigator that had pulled up, and they were now making their way up Colt's driveway. Colt pulled his SIG free of his waistband and stepped in front of Taylor, shielding her with his body.

“Give us the girl, and no one gets hurt,” said the biggest of the suited men, his deep voice booming. Colt and Zack looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Zack gave the tiniest nod and took Colt's place in front of Taylor as Colt approached the trio. Taylor's mouth went dry as she wrung her fingers together, trying to anchor herself against her furiously pounding heart.

“Yeah, that's not gonna happen.” Colt studied the men, and Taylor had no idea how he could be so calm. Especially when the men advanced farther onto his property as though they hadn't even heard him.

“Your daddy owes us a lot of money, sweetheart,” said the tall one, his dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Money he doesn't have. But you have it, don't you? So you're going to come with us and get us our money. Simple.”

Well, shit. For once in his goddamn life, her father had been telling the truth. He owed these guys money, and he'd tried to warn her that they'd come after her.

“How much does he owe you?” she asked from behind Zack.

The big one shrugged casually. “Well, once you factor in the forty percent interest and the late payment fee, his tab's up to $500,000. It was supposed to be more, but our boss likes round numbers.”

Taylor's stomach swirled uncomfortably, and she thought she might be sick. “I…I don't have that kind of money,” she said. Her entire net worth was just over three million dollars, and a lot of that was tied up in her house and the few investments she had. It had been years since she'd last had a hit record, and although she'd seen success, success didn't always mean crazy wealth. She didn't have half a million dollars cash on hand, and even if she did, she sure as hell wasn't going to use it to pay her father's debts.

“That's why you're gonna come with us, so we can work something out,” said Ponytail, and they started to advance. Colt aimed his gun at the closest man, who looked like a version of Homer Simpson come to life, bald and overweight.