Traded (Blood Ties Book 5)

The side of my face throbbed, driving punishing blows through my head until I thought it was splitting apart. I cupped my cheek as Guild and London went at it. I winced at their roaring.

Any damn moment London was about to explode. When it did…it was going to be bad.

“You can’t be serious,” the bodyguard muttered as we pulled into the street where we lived.

My heart boomed, driving home the punishing blows in my head.

“You’re really taking her back here? For Christ’s sake, London. It’s not safe!”

London cut me a glare. I saw the movement, but I couldn’t look at him. I was frozen, as one hand gripped the door handle and the other clenched around the seat next to me.

“I don’t fucking run.” London turned back to the street, slowing the car before we pulled into the driveway. “Not from them. Not from anyone. The moment you do, you’re dead. You know that.”

That was all he said as he killed the engine.

“You don’t run?” Guild grunted as he shoved open the door, carefully following London out of the car. “You. Don’t. Fucking. Run?”

Boom!

The door slammed closed behind me. I winced, holding onto my head as London rounded the car and opened my door. “That’s what I said.” He held out his hand for me, those dark eyes fixed on mine. “I stand and fight.”

London held onto my hand as I climbed out. I knew what he was saying. I saw it in that dangerous, dark stare. He was going to war over this…he was going to war over me.

Hunger bloomed like a deadly rose inside me. If London St. James was a dangerous man before…he was about to get a lot worse.

“Take a goddamn look. There’s no fucking door!”

But London didn’t say a word. His stare was a heavy weight on my shoulders as I made my way toward the house. The moment I neared, memories slammed into me and terror followed. My steps stuttered and my breath caught. All I saw was the busted open door and the blood that seeped into the concrete path leading to the front steps. All I saw was death.

“She can’t stay here, London. You know that,” Guild urged, coming up behind me.

But still, I forced myself to walk. I’d been through worse, I reminded myself…much worse.

I swallowed hard and forced myself past those splattered crimson stains as London snapped. “The safehouse hasn’t been checked. I can’t be sure that’s safe. So where the fuck do you suggest we go, The Four fucking Seasons?”

My fingers shook as I gripped the doorway and stepped inside. But it wasn’t a foyer covered with Guild’s blood I saw…it was Colt striding down the stairs carrying two bags that looked like they were stuffed…with my clothes.

He dropped them at the entrance with a thud, next to two others stuffed with the same, before he met my gaze. My body trembled at the sight of him. Tears welled in my eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” London growled behind me.

I lowered my focus to the bags, then to the quiet resignation in the son’s stare.

“Her things, by the looks of it,” Guild commented. “At least someone gives a shit about protecting her.”

In the corner of my better eye, London cut him a deadly stare. “You’re lucky you’re wounded, or I’d shoot you myself.”

I took a slow step forward, finding pink chiffon and black denim sticking out of a half-closed zipper. “These are all my clothes.”

Colt gave a slow nod.

Those piercing blue eyes searched my face as I spoke. “And none of yours.”

He scowled, then slowly shook his head, as though it hadn’t occurred to him he’d need them.

“You did all this for me?” I croaked.

Desperation fluttered as he took a step closer and lifted his hand to skim his thumb across my cheek. I winced at the throb, hating it when he pulled away. But he grabbed my hand, gave London a glare, then gently pulled me with him.

We made our way upstairs with me holding onto the railing, wincing with every step. But I forced myself to move until I stepped onto the landing, stared at the open door of my bedroom, and froze. Hours. That’s all it’d been…hours since I was in there, tucked in my bed, trying my best to sleep off the hell we’d endured from the attack at the shopping center.

Then it all hit me.

With a thunderous, heart-shattering roar.

A wounded sound tore free as my knees buckled. But I didn’t hit the floor. Strong hands grabbed me. I was lifted and pulled against a powerful, warm chest and I turned my face, pressing my agony against his strength. My arms went around his neck as my silent captor moved, carrying me into my room. He held me, not wanting to let me go…not just yet.

I clung to him, holding on like he was my life raft in this unmerciful sea of terror, until his quiet voice broke through.

“Vivienne.”

I trembled and shook, unable to do anything but fall into the chasm of despair waiting for me.

“Vivienne.”

The deep, dulcet tone made me lift my head. I opened my barely functional eye, finding him blurred behind my stinging tears.

Those dark blue eyes gripped mine. “We don’t do this,” he murmured.

“Do w-what?” I forced around the boulder wedged in the back of my throat.

“We don’t lose ourselves.”

I stilled, my heart hammering…trying to process his words.

“We might shatter…” His thumb caressed my hand as he lifted it and turned it over. “We might break.” That gentle touch skimmed the gash across the middle of my palm. The gash I’d received when I’d wielded the broken mirror like a weapon. “But broken pieces cut too.”

My body shuddered as my knees locked in tight.

“They cut, baby,” he urged. He lifted his focus to me. “They cut so fucking deep, especially when we sharpen them.”

What was he trying to say to me? I tried to find meaning between the shudders. He turned his head to the clothes laid out on the neatly made bed. Clothes meant for me. Because we were leaving…

Just like Guild said.

We were leaving this house, and we weren’t coming back.

“W-where?” I whispered. That word burned like fire in the back of my throat. Those edges were cutting alright…only they were cutting me. “Where will we go?”

Colt gave a slow shrug, those perfect lips curling. “The Four fucking Seasons sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

I let out a ridiculous bark of laughter. Still, it was like those edges finally cut right through, breaking me away from the heavy weight of fear. I surged to the surface, kicking and clawing, the weight of all this falling away as I finally broke through.

I inhaled deeply, swallowed the air, and exhaled hard, finally understanding what Colt meant.

I was the honed edge.

I was the weapon.

I was the thing they’d tried to destroy.

But they hadn’t, had they?

Because I was here. I was right fucking here, staring up into those endless dark depths of those knowing eyes. The eyes that shimmered with depths. I wasn’t drowning anymore. I was carried, swept away in the current of his love. My pulse thundered as that rushed through me.

Those hard shudders eased as Colt leaned forward and gently, without touching me, kissed me. I closed my eyes at the warmth of his lips and under the rush came the need that burned like fire in my veins. I surged forward, wrapping my arms around him tight, pressing my body against his until I ached.

I didn’t care about the pain.

Not anymore. Instead, I welcomed it.

He never touched me, never wrapped those powerful arms around my body to pull me in tight. He let me take what I wanted, sliding one hand until I cupped the back of his neck. That familiar hunger rose with it. My mouth opened, the kiss deepening. He gave me everything, without lifting a goddamn finger to touch me. It both infuriated and drove me wild and, with a low, guttural moan, I broke away.

His perfect lips were reddened and parted, that ravenous stare fixed on me. But still, he didn’t speak, leaving me to glance at those clothes lying splayed out on the bed once more. “The Four fucking Seasons, huh?”

The moment I said the words, I knew that’s what I wanted. I’d never been to a fancy hotel, never sashayed through a foyer with men turning to stare at me. I’d had nothing for me in my entire life. Everything I’d ever experienced was at the hands of, and controlled by, men.

A movie rose inside my mind. My favorite movie of all time. One made especially for me, even if it came out years before I was even born. As I looked at those clothes on the bed, I relived that movie. I was that Vivienne, courted by Richard Gere with beautiful clothes and a whole new life laid out neatly in front of me. I was that woman whose life was suddenly filled with potential.

My broken nails ached. My body still trembled and hurt.

But it didn’t have to be this way.

I didn’t have to succumb to the pain.

I undressed and dropped London’s jacket to the floor with a soft thud, then I pulled Colt’s shirt off, wincing with the ache in my breast as I dropped it as well. Pink panties lay neatly in front of me. I reached out, lifted them from the bed, and slid them on. Black jeans and a thick blue turtleneck sweater were next. By the time I tugged on my boots and straightened my spine, I felt better.

Colt had known exactly what I needed, even if I hadn’t. “Thank you,” I whispered, listening to the growls and snarls from London and Guild filtering up from downstairs. “Thank you for saving me…again.”

He gave a slow nod and smiled.

That smile was everything. I channeled that inner Vivienne and headed for the doorway, leaving my bedroom behind. I made my way back down to where Guild and London were locked in a glaring competition, with neither a clear winner.

The moment I came down, London turned to me. “The Four S-seasons.” I ignored the tremble in my voice. “I’d like to go there now.”

He didn’t speak, just searched my eye, then gave a slow nod. “Guild, I want the men close. By close, I mean camped on our fucking doorstep.” He swung his gaze to the mercenary.

“She’ll be protected, London. You have my word on that. I’ll have the rest of your things packed and sent ahead to the safehouse,” Guild acknowledged.

“Thank you,” London answered carefully as he lifted his hand to the small of my back. “Vivienne.”

The heavy thud of footsteps rang out in the night as we headed back to the car. London opened my door and waited, but before I eased back in, I stilled, lifted my gaze to his…and slid my hand along the back of his.

He was so damn stubborn, unmovable.

I knew he didn’t like this.

Then I slowly sank, leaving him to close my door behind me.

Colt was silent as he climbed into the car. London followed, sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine. With my two protectors, we backed out of the driveway and left the only place that’d ever felt remotely like my home behind.

It was early, still dark, when we headed into the city. London watched the rear-view mirror like a hawk as bright lights of the late-night clubs drew my gaze as we passed. Colt was still behind me. I didn’t need to turn my head to know his gun was in his hand.

Because we still couldn’t trust the night.

Maybe never again.

London turned the Mercedes into the driveway of the Four Seasons and pulled up hard. “Keep close, Vivienne,” he murmured and cracked open his door.

I glanced at the sparkling bright foyer and my stomach dropped. “Wait.”

I met his gaze, shook my head, and lifted my hand, touching my swollen, throbbing eye. “I can’t…I can’t go in there like this.”

He shifted his gaze to the nearly empty foyer of the hotel, then leaned toward me, hit the button on the glove compartment, and pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Here.”

I stared at the glasses. “Won’t they stare?”

“Not if they want to keep their jobs, they won’t.”