"Oh, Mr. Masters, um, I didn't expect to see you, um, and dressed like this."
"Spitfire, you don't need to apologize. Mas is just jealous."
"Mas?" she asked, turning her head to him. I watched as they got lost in one another's gaze; the jealousy and possessiveness I'd felt earlier roared to life even more. I turned, heading to the counter to get out of their sight. Mostly so I didn't walk over there and rip her out of his arms. I had no claim on her, no place to do such an action. He was my best friend and most trusted ally. She was a single woman, no ties to me. I didn't even think she knew I'd been the one in the club. I had no reason to feel this way.
Yet my cock and heart were in disagreement. Straining against the counter, I pressed the stiff appendage into it, hoping to punish myself or gather some relief as I busied with filling a cup. Shit, I needed to think quickly or get out of here. I didn't know which was worse, though. Leaving and having them realize they affected me or staying and punishing myself in the process of my restraint.
My cold exterior helped keep me disengaged, at least, and I bit my tongue not to make a retort. If I heard her speak, I would want her more. That wouldn't do.
"So um, you guys live together?" I heard her ask. "And why would he be jealous?"
"Because of what we talked about last night," he whispered, nibbling her neck. "And, we've always lived together, or well since we've known one another, we have. Package deal."
"Package?" her breath caught, and I had to compel myself to focus on the packet of oatmeal I'd picked up to read. I could tell by her sounds, Sax was attempting to push my buttons. This was torture, actually, it was worse than torture. I’d take waterboarding any day over this. Hardening myself, I attacked, wanting to see him bleed along with me.
"I'm actually surprised to see you with Sax this morning, considering the last time I saw you barely clothed, it was with Nicco. Where is the young chap this morning?"
Sax turned and glared, his ministrations stopping as Loren tensed. She looked at me regarding her over my coffee cup, and I watched as she completely shut down. Loren slid off his lap, tucking the shirt under her, and patted her hair, attempting to tame it.
"Um, yeah, well, he hasn't reached out to me. And, actually, I think it's time I head home. I don't want Jude to worry." She turned to Sax, her voice softening now that she was out from under my watchful glare. "I'm gonna grab my stuff. Can you give me a ride, or do I need to order a car?"
He kissed her nose, smoothing down her long dark hair and tucking it behind her ears. I didn't want to admit how transfixed I was by the movement or how obsessed I'd become watching them. Sax was a different person around her, his hard edges a little softer, his gruffness more directed. When she stood and tiptoed out of the room, her hands holding the shirt over her ass as she crept by, I noticed how perfect she looked in it. Her long legs were accentuated, and her dark hair contrasted against the stark white.
When Sax cleared his throat, I knew I'd been found out. Flicking my gaze to his, I met a disappointed one. It wasn't what I expected, being prepared to deal with his smugness or anger, but Sax being disappointed in me… hurt.
"What?" I snapped, going on the defensive. The beast of a man stood, his muscles flexing as he did, his bare torso displaying his tattoos. It was then I noticed he was the most dressed down I'd ever seen him in the house, even if it was only 7 am on Saturday. Sax typically wore either workout clothes, black suits, or black tactical gear. His clothes had a purpose and nothing more. Seeing him in the soft grey cotton sweatpants was odd, and it stuck out to me. He walked toward the counter I still leaned against, his bare feet padding on the floor in confident strides, and I prepared myself for his attack.
"I don't have to tell you how much of an asshole you were. Whatever you're doing, stop. It won't work. Believe me, I tried and failed myself. Whatever this restraint is about, this holding yourself back you’re doing for some reason, it isn't going to last. You forget I know you better than anyone. I know you want her. Hell, I know how much it's eating you up inside thinking about me having her. I thought you were right, that staying away was wiser, that I could save her that way. But I was wrong."
He let his words ring out, giving me time to think them over. I didn't respond. I didn't even acknowledge him, just staring at his face as I drank my coffee, acting unaffected. When he didn't get the response he searched for, he sighed, shaking his head at me. The movement sliced through my walls, and for a second, I almost gave in and answered him, but I couldn't
"I get it, Mas. I do. But answer me this… what if she isn't the one that needs saving? What if she's meant to save us?"
He let go of the counter and walked backward, watching me for the first few steps, before turning on the balls of his feet and heading out of the kitchen. I placed the coffee cup down and turned, barely making it into the sink when I heaved up what I'd just drank. Grabbing a glass, I filled it with water and swished it around before spitting it out.
This was my weakness, my curse, my one flaw I kept closely hidden.
The very thing my father said would be my demise because I would never have the stomach for what would be required of me as boss of the family because lying made me sick. Literally.
I'd learned ways to control it over the years, but every now and then, things would catch me off guard, like finding the one woman I hadn't been able to stop obsessing over practically naked in my kitchen. And then, my stomach would revolt, and I'd lose it. The Grim Reaper said it would be my downfall. The joke was on him when I shot him and left him for dead. I hadn't felt even a trickle of nausea then.
He was one of two people who knew, the other our family doctor. Not even Sax knew this hidden shame. Over the years, I'd discovered ways to deal with it when I couldn't control things, but having Sax by my side had meant I'd always been prepared for the unknown, mitigating the likelihood. Facing off with Sax now, lying to my family about the shit we were in, scared I'd let Immy down again, carrying everything on my shoulders, and denying myself the beautiful woman I craved with everything in me, had me blowing chunks.
I wasn't allowed to be scared. But I was. I so fucking was.
Sax's words echoed around my head, the possibility she could be good for us, but I dismissed them. If I let them be true, then I wasn't any better than Dayton. I didn't need to be saved. There wasn't anything worth saving left in me. The only hope I had was to make it worthwhile for the people I cared about. Nothing would absolve me from what happened to Immy or Jaz. If I couldn't protect those who knew this type of danger existed, then I had no chance with someone like her.
Chugging the remainder of my coffee, I placed it in the sink, checking one more time it was clear. I slid my gun into the holster under my arm and swung my suit coat up and on. Getting into the practice of wearing a gun had taken some time. With how things were right now, it was stupid not to, even if I didn't always agree with using them.
I headed toward the garage needing to get started on my meetings now that I was back in the city. Perhaps breaking a few people today, leveraging a few secrets would be just the thing to perk me up on this Saturday.
* * *
"It seemswe're at an impasse, Mr. Santos. I believe you have something I need and want, yet you don't seem to want to give it to me. It pains me to have to do this."
The room I was in lit up with colors as the screens around us turned on. His eyes zeroed in on the image I had displayed on the screen. As I watched him, I saw it, the first sign of fear, as he dropped his eyes back to me now and swallowed.
Violence was easy to use and typically gave you the result you wanted. But it was messy, required no finesse, and was amateur, in my opinion. I'd much prefer to cripple my opponents at the knees and then watch them suffer as I took everything from them. Mental and emotional pain was far more reaching and motivating. Of course, I didn't need any convincing of that. I'd been my father's favorite test subject after all.