Never prepared for either.
Before I could respond to the fact that Nixon was tossing an apron at Chase while Mil popped open a wine bottle and Trace, Nixon’s wife brought a baby for Nixon to kiss.
On the face.
Like he didn’t have multiple kills on his hands.
Dante had jerked me down the hall.
And into his bedroom.
A place I’d never been.
I was always on the other side.
Living in fear of the three hundred square foot bathroom that separated us, always watching, waiting, for him to pounce.
For anyone to see what Petrov had seen.
And take.
The door closed with a dull thud. Dante flicked on the lights and fan then very slowly started stripping out of his T-shirt.
It was happening.
I tried to calm my nerves.
The sickness that spread throughout my stomach, because no matter how good-looking he was, I was going to be another chess piece in a game I had never asked to play.
In a game I would never win.
He faced me. “They see blood anywhere and they’re going to ask questions, especially if it’s not yours or mine.”
I froze, my hands were dead at my side.
He scowled. “El, you need to take off your skirt so I can wash it, I’ll shower after so they don’t suspect anything, but we can’t just toss it into the hamper.”
Stunned, I just stared.
And then he was reaching for me.
I jerked back.
He winced as a muscle popped in his jaw. “I only like the willing.”
It was my turn to flinch.
“The skirt.” He held out his hands. “Trust me, I’ve seen it all, if it makes you feel better I can turn around, but the longer we’re in here doing homework the more they’re going to suspect something, so if you want to be my friend, if you want this to work, you have to suck it up and make a sacrifice — compromise.”
With a slow nod, I unzipped my skirt and let it drop to the floor.
True to his word, his eyes only focused on the material, not my legs, ass, or anything else.
Not even the scar that still marred my thigh.
Or the ugly stitches that were still healing with it.
“Hey, Dante?” Chase pounded on the door. “I know you said you were doing homework, but I heard the shower turn on, can I talk with you—” The knob turned.
Dante cursed and shoved me into the shower clothes and everything, then hopped in to join me, jerking the curtain closed just in time for Chase to walk in.
Dante blocked my body with his. “Is this prison? Do I have no privacy?”
Chase laughed. “Nope. Never. Welcome to the family.”
Dante sagged against me.
And I let him.
For the first time in a long time, the heaviness of a man’s body didn’t feel suffocating — it felt — protective.
I kept my arms pinned at my sides as he breathed out a curse. “Chase, I’ll be done in a minute.”
“I was twenty once, I know what long showers are all about.”
Dante smirked. “You do realize you’re like three years older than me, right? You’re not old, Chase.”
Chase was quiet and then. “Wouldn’t get too comfortable in there, we have thirty minutes of boxing before dinner.”
“Since when?” Dante roared, slamming his hand near my head.
I winced.
He sent me an apologetic look.
“Since I need to blow off some steam,” Chase raged.
“Can’t you beat the shit out of someone else?”
“Nope, you’re my new favorite.”
“Lucky me.”
“Glad you see it my way.” Chase chuckled. “Oh, and when you see El again tell her Frank’s looking for her.”
“Yup.” Dante sucked in another breath as steam billowed around us.
The door clicked shut.
Dante and I locked eyes.
He was beautiful. The type of man that was bad for you, the kind that I knew I would never be able to trust, because he was able to be whoever you needed him to be.
In the moment.
And I’d known a guy like the once.
He’d promised me everything.
And I’d believed him.
Because he told me he’d keep me safe.
He’d lied.
I had believed all the pretty lies because of the package, but when it counted, I suffered for it.
My only job had been to live.
To survive.
I wouldn’t fail again.
Dante’s eyes raked over me, his half-lidded glance told me everything I needed to know.
“Why?” his eyes searched.
“Why what?” My weak voice betrayed me.
“You could have hugged me. Why kiss someone you hate?”
I sidestepped him, our arms brushed, my body shivered. “Why kiss them back?”
The first smile I’d seen on his face appeared, like he was letting me see behind the cool chilly mask he liked to wear.
I sucked in a breath and nearly fell back against the curtain.
No man had any right to be that beautiful.
Or haunting.
“Because,” he whispered gruffly, “it felt good.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
Or the way his eyes darted to my mouth before quickly looking above my head like the tile was more interesting than anything I had to offer.
“Play with fire…” he said in a low voice. “Don’t kiss me again.”
I tried not to react, but something about Dante always made it… difficult, like I wasn’t physically capable of putting on the armor I was so used to wearing in order to survive.
I bit down on my lip, buying time to gather my thoughts, if I reacted to him, he’d see I was weak, if I did nothing he’d think I was stupid, and if I flirted with him, he’d call me on my bullshit.
The only choice I had was to give him a slow nod of my head, making sure he understood that there was nothing he had that I wanted.
We might as well be brother and sister.
“Friends don’t kiss,” I finally said. “And I’m sorry.” And I was, I really was.
“The truth?” He finally looked down at me again as his icy eyes swirled with intensity. “Tell me the truth.”
I opened my mouth, and then closed it.
He tilted my chin toward him with nothing but his right hand, one finger, his pointer finger, and I was already feeling an awakening pulse through my body.
This was wrong.
All wrong.
I hated men.
Right?
Men were the reason I was in that damn shower.
They promised to protect.
To save.
They killed.
“The truth,” he said again, his eyes raking me over as if I was being interrogated, and if I answered wrong I’d suffer for it.
I gulped then met his stare. “I was afraid.”
“Of what?” his mouth was so close, I memorized the way his lips slid together like he was waiting for bad news.
I measured the seconds by my heavy breathing and finally said, “Everything.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dante
THE FEARFUL LOOK in El’s eyes haunted me the entire way to my twin Val’shouse. And when it became unnervingly clear that Chase was suspicious about my homework — considering it was only the second time I’d even mentioned it — he decided it would be best if he joined in on dinner at my sister’s.
This was, of course, delivered in typical Chase form, after clipping me in the chin at the end of our sparring session.
I tried not to touch the already bruising skin as I scowled across the table at him.
Chase had said he needed to blow off steam.