Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 26

TWENTY-SIX

KASH TON

“What was that about?” I bark at Adam once her door closes be‐ hind me.

“I have to go. Three bodies were found dumped by Bar rington. All match the same MO—”

“I’m talking about Eve moving,” I interrupt him. “You’re going to tell her no. That you can’t do it.”

He stops and turns to face me. His eyes fo cus on her front door and then on mine. “Look.” He steps forward and lowers his voice. “I love Eve like a sister.” I don’t like how he says it, because I’ve seen how he’s treated Ashtyn and because I know that he’s fucked my girl. “I re ally do, but you’re not going to win this. She’s go ing to do whatever she wants. Just like you’re going to do whatever the fuck you want.”

“You told me that I had to help pro tect her, and I think tonight proves that I need to pro tect her from you as well.”

He’s giving her these jobs all on her own. All they have to do is drug her drink or over power her for a second, and she’s dead. I pinned her down to the couch in the office at the cathedral and ripped her fishnet tights. So I know that it can easily be done. She’s tough but not physically as strong as a man. The only reason she’s made it this far is because she has them at a disadvantage. She catches them off guard. They’re vulnerable, think ing that they’re paying a hooker for sex. Eventu ally, they’re going to start talking and wondering where these guys are disappearing to.

Adam’s phone starts ringing, and he sighs heavily. “I have to go.

Keep an eye on her, and I’ll check back tomorrow.” With that, he

turns, answering his phone as he dips into the driver’s side of his car.

I enter her house and don’t see her in the living room or kitchen, so I go to her bed room. The sound of running water has me walk ing into her bathroom.

She sits in the tub with that bottle of whiskey in her hand. Her head is back on the pillow, eyes closed.

I rip the Jack from her hands and place it on the counter by her sink. Then I turn back to face her. She’s staring up at me with her heavy eyes. “I don’t want a lecture,” she whispers.

My girl looks exhausted. “I don’t plan on giving you one.” Adam is right. She’s going to do whatever she wants to do unless I stop her.

Words aren’t going to change her mind, but actions will keep her here.

I sit on the side of the tub and order, “Sit up.”

She slowly gets to a sitting position and pulls her knees to her chest. The tub is filled about halfway and there are no bub bles, so I can see her tan skin through the water. She’s got bruises on her knees and around her arms and neck. They’re from me and the belts I used on her. What I did to her the past two days.

The one on her cheek is new. And I notice she’s got a large one on her thigh. Also not from my hands.

“I’m going to wash you, then tuck you into bed,” I inform her. “Your body needs to rest.”

“Not going to make me sleep on the floor like a dog?” She snorts.

“How thoughtful of you.”

Ignor ing that, I grab a cup that she has sitting on the side of the tub and fill it with water and begin to wash her hair. She sighs, run‐ ning her hands down her face.

Less than twenty minutes later, as I pull the plug to her bathwater, she can’t keep her eyes open. I help her out, wipe her off, and wrap her in a towel. She allows me to pick her up and carry her to her bed, where I place her under the covers.

“This is your fault, you know.”

I frown. “How so?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She rolls over, but I sit down next to her, turn ing her onto her back so she has to face me.

“It does,” I assure her. “Tell me what I did.”

She licks her lips. “It’s what you didn’t do.” My frown deepens and she yawns. “It’s your fault I was off my game tonight. I was weak and distracted.”

“I’m still not understanding how you putting your self in danger is my fault. You should have called me.” I know she’s seen my number saved in her phone. “I would have gone with you.” Haidyn used to pay for his sex all the time. I know that some have bodyguards. The smart ones do anyway. I don’t give a fuck what a woman chooses to do with her body, but she should al ways pro tect herself. Anything can happen. I could have pre tended to be that for her.

She blinks, her heavy eyes having trouble staying open. “You didn’t let me get off.”

“You didn’t get your self off when you got home?”

Her brows pull down at my question. “Was that what you wanted?” she asks, though I don’t answer. “Were…were you testing me?”

“If I was, it sounds like you failed.”

“Un believable,” she mumbles.

I reach out and push a few strands of wet hair behind her ear and search her heated eyes. “Why didn’t you get your self off, angel?”

She looks away, re fus ing to answer me.

“When was the last time you allowed your self to come?” I ask in‐

stead.

“That’s…none of your business.”

I cup her warm face and run my thumb over her lips. I helped her wash her face clear of her makeup, and she looks just as gorgeous with out it. Her skin is soft and her lips pouty. Her big green eyes seem brighter than they were the night on the yacht all those years ago. “You’re my business, Everett. Everything you do is my business.

That includes touch ing your self.”

She licks her lips. “So what? You’re going to deny me orgasms now?”

“Sounds to me like you’re denying your self of them.” That grants me an eye roll. I was setting her up to see if she would get herself off. I know how she feels about sex with men, but to not even please herself? “Why?”

Her pretty green eyes fall to the bed, and she takes a long breath, but she doesn’t answer.

She was a doll. Maybe they used orgasms as a punishment? Or made her beg for a re lease that she was never allowed to have?

“There’s nothing wrong with getting off, angel.” I go on. “To feel good.”

Meet ing my stare once more, she whispers, “You make me feel good.”

I lean in and gently kiss her lips, unable to stop myself. She sur‐ prises me by kissing me back.

“Come on. You need to rest.” I’ve got a big day planned for her to‐ morrow.

She closes her eyes, and I crawl in next to her, letting mine wander her body as she sleeps on her side, facing me. I run the pad of my fingers gently over her upper arm, caressing the bruises the belts left.

Her eyes flutter open before they fall closed once more and she yawns.

“Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Why?” she asks sleepily, her dark lashes fanning her cheeks.

“To take care of you,” I say simply.

“I can take care of myself,” she mumbles. “I’d rather you just fuck me.”

I smirk at that and prom ise, “I’ll do that too. Just not tonight.”

Moments later, her breathing evens out and her body relaxes into the mattress. She’s sound asleep.

I get up, find the re mote, and turn her TV on, making sure to put the volume on low so it doesn’t wake her. Then I get undressed and climb back into bed, pull her body flush with mine and close my eyes.

It feels good to be needed. For some one to depend on me. It’s been a long time since I took care of someone.

EVERETT I wake up with a groan. Rolling over onto my side, I open my eyes

to look around and see I’m alone.

Finally. A little peace and quiet.

My head is pounding, and my body hurts. The guy I killed last night put up a fight.

“Fucking bitch.” He scowls, grabs my hair, and yanks my head back.

“I’m on to you.”

As he shoves my face into the dirty comforter, his voice is muffled from the blood rushing in my ears.

When he pulls my head up, I twist my body around, feeling his hand tighten in my hair in the process, and I slam my fist into his throat. “Bas tard,” I growl.

Cough ing and sputtering, he lets go and stumbles back. I take the opportu nity and jump off the bed, barreling into him, and the mo‐ mentum pushes him back so he hits the glass wall, and it shatters before we fall to the floor.

I get up on my hands and knees, crawling to my bag, but he grabs my ankle and yanks me back. “Not this time.”

I slam my free foot into his face over and over until he lets go of my ankle. I’m gasping for breath as I reach into my bag and pull out my knife. He jumps on me as I spin around and stab him, splattering myself with his blood.

“Fuck,” I growl, shoving his dead weight off me, trying to catch my breath.

I ended up stabbing him in the chest twice. I made sure he was dead before I left him there.

En tering my bathroom, I use the re stroom, wash my hands, and then splash my face with cold water to wake up. I need some Advil, a drink, and a nap. In that order.

I’m naked, so I grab an over sized T-shirt and slide the soft fabric over my head before placing my hair up in a messy bun to get it out of my face. I swear I’m losing hair from all the men who fist it.

Why is it the first thing any man grabs a hold of when they are try‐ ing to rape or kill you?

De ciding I can’t do anything else with myself, I make my way to the kitchen but come to a stop when I see the back of a man. “I knew it was too good to be true,” I mumble.

Kashton turns around and gives me a smile. “Good morning, angel.

How did you sleep?”

I don’t answer because I was hoping today would be better than yes terday. It won’t be.

The door bell rings and he smiles. “Per fect timing.”

Walk ing over to my front door, he opens it for who I as sume to be Adam, but it’s Gavin. They greet one another and then Kashton points him to me for my follow-up appointment.

Fuck this day.

“Here.” Kashton walks over to me in the living room, grabs my hand, and helps me sit at the dining room ta ble as if I’m incapable of doing so on my own.

Did he not hear Gavin? I’m fine. Passed whatever test he gave me with flying colors. I, of course, didn’t tell him about my headache or the fact that I’m feeling a little dizzy. I’ve been through this before.

It’ll pass. Just has to run its course.

“What are you doing, Kash?” I place my head in my hands, rubbing my throbbing temples.

“Making you breakfast. You don’t have much food here,” he ac‐ cuses. “But I was able to make some pancakes. I hope that’s okay. If not, I can order whatever you’d like.” His blue eyes look at me ex‐ pec tantly.

My stomach rum bles at the thought of food. “Yeah.” I nod. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

He’s moving around the kitchen like he lives here, and it makes me wonder how many times he’s been in my house that I’m not aware of.

“Did you sleep with me in my bed last night?” I wonder. After I got home, parts are blurry.

“Nope. I didn’t go to sleep,” he answers, turn ing to place a plate in front of me, along with a knife and fork. Pancakes stacked five high.

He then sets out the butter, peanut butter, and syrup.

“Thank you,” I say and inhale the scent. “It smells amazing.”

“Of course.” He leans down and kisses my fore head.

It makes me pause. He’s playing house. Like we’re a married couple and this is a common occurrence.

“Eat up, Eve.” Turning, he goes over to my cab inets, pulls out my Advil, and then places two by my plate before giving me a glass of orange juice.

I pick them up and toss them into my mouth as I drink half the glass. I’m so thirsty, and I want this headache to go away.

“Bill’s re ception is this weekend.”

His words have me glancing up at him. The way he said it makes me think he knows something that I don’t. “And?”

“I’m assum ing you’re going.”

Sin and Elli were at our family dinner, and he’s close to Sin. So I know he’s aware that Bill is myfather. The question is, how much does he know? “I am.”

He pulls a seat out, sits down, and reaches across the table to take my hand. He slowly rubs his thumb over my knuckles, and my pulse races. His eyes search mine when he asks. “Will you be my date?”

I swallow nervously.A date? I’ve never been on one of those be‐ fore. A woman like me isn’t seen out in pub lic with a man like Kash‐ ton. Any man, for that matter. “I can’t.” I pull my hand from his and stand, grabbing my untouched plate.

“Can’t or won’t?” he questions, following me to the sink.

I keep my back to him, bowing my head and closing my eyes. If he’s going, then that means his broth ers are going as well. I’m not ready to see them. Or Ashtyn. Not like she’ll notice me or anything.

But I’ll know, and I’m just not ready.

He grabs my hips and spins me around. His hands come to my face, and he holds it in place, forc ing me to look at him. “I’m going

to pick you up at five —”

“Kashton,” I protest. “We shouldn’t.”

“What are you hiding, Eve?”

My heart races. “Nothing.” I try to pull away, but he has my back

against the counter.

“Prove it,” he challenges me.

My breathing picks up, and I try to think of a lie, but I have noth‐ ing. He’s got me flustered. Or maybe it’s the pounding headache.

Gavin could be right, and I have a concussion. It’s messing with me.

Making me crazy.

“Prove to me that you have nothing to hide and be my date.” His hands fall from my face and slowly glide down my shirt until he reaches the hem. He grabs a hold of the mate rial and pulls it up.

I lift my arms on instinct to allow him to re move it. Tossing it to the side, I stand naked in front of him while he’s dressed.

My heart hammers in my chest, and my knees start to shake as his eyes take in my body. My skin heats up, and I feel lightheaded.

His hands come back to my face, and his eyes meet mine before he leans into me. My eye lids fall closed when our lips touch. I let him take my breath away as he kisses me—deep and passionately.

I push my body into him, letting my hands fall to his jeans. I begin to un buckle his belt, but his hands grip my wrists, stopping me. He pulls his lips from mine, and I open my heavy eyes. “Come on.” He pulls me away and back to my bedroom.

We enter my bathroom, and he starts running the tub. “What are you doing?” I thought he was going to fuck me.

“I’m going to play with you,” he answers, popping open the bub bles and pouring some into the water.

That excite ment re turns, but my eyes drop to the water. “In the bathtub?” I ask, taking a step back.

He turns to face me, kisses my fore head, and ignores my question.

“I’ll be right back.” Then he exits the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I begin to pace, nib bling on my nails. I’m a functioning al coholic. I don’t go to group therapy like Bill and Adam have both suggested, but I do know I have a problem.

The only thing is, I have lived alone for the better part of the past six years, so I don’t have to hide al cohol from anyone. And there’s no way Kashton is going to allow me to drink this early.

I start going through cab inets under the sinks, opening draw ers, hoping that I have something some where. But I have no luck.

With one last Hail Mary, I walk into the closet and start looking through my dressers. I catch sight of a backpack on the floor and kneel. Un zipping it, I find a mini bottle of vodka from one of many private jet rides that Adam and I were on.

“Thank God.” I toss the backpack into place, and it hits the box that hides in the corner. Taking a quick look over at the closet door, I can hear the bathtub running but don’t think he’s back yet. I pull the box out and my heart races when I see the tape has been cut down the middle and the sides.

My hands start to shake. I haven’t opened this. It had to be Kash‐ ton. When was he in here? He said he hadn’t slept last night. He could have been all over this place. Or when he was here last night waiting for me to get home.

Shoving it back into the corner, I stand and make my way to the bathroom, closing the closet door behind me. I sink into the scald‐ ing-hot water and quickly unscrew the lid, tossing it back. I swallow the contents in one gulp just as the bathroom door opens.