Promise (49 page)

Lilly’s eyes moved beneath the thin veil of her lids. Without a hint of surprise, she looked at Flynn as though she’d expected him to be there, her focused glow of green and gold on him like a cheetah deciding which angle of attack would be most efficient.

“I hate you.” She went straight for the kill.

“I know.” Flynn sucked in some air, the sound of her voice weaving a noose around his neck.

Flynn caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over her bed, his face cast in half-shadow by the moon. He looked like a man who had nothing to lose.

“I love you,” Flynn whispered.

“I know.” Lilly’s eyes keened on him, her voice sadly resigned.

“Come with me. Right now, we’ll disappear.”

Flynn knew it was pure folly, but he was about to die, so he let his fantasy take flight in the streaks of moonlight that filled the air between them.

Flynn Dunleavy—the bastard son of the infamous Colin Dunleavy, marked by his mother's hot green eyes and his father’s elegant symmetry of features. He was equal parts lean fighting-thug and Detroit, mob royalty.

“That’s impossible. I’m already invisible. I don’t exist. And soon, you won’t either.” Lilly brushed the tangle of waves and curls off her translucent pink cheeks as she shifted under the stark white bedding and leaned, half sitting, against the pile of pillows at her back.

“Why haven’t you screamed yet?”

“I’m playing with you. Isn’t that why you’re here?” The forced cheerfulness in her voice shining light on the hopelessness it tried to hide. “What made you decide to speak to me? I’ve gotten used to the silent stare. I think I’ve enjoyed wondering what’s been going on inside that head of yours more than actually knowing.”

He watched her hands pull at the covers, then wrap around the lush curve of her waist. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, to silence the insecurity that told her somehow her glorious soft lines made her less-than.

“It took me a long time to decide what to say is all.”

“It’s been almost a month since you spoke to me.”

“I had a lot to think about.”

Flynn could see the almost imperceptible movement of her pulse just below her jaw. His own blood rushed downward, filling the length under his pants even as he realized that he would die without ever discovering the dream of binding himself to her.

“So, you’re here. All I have to do is scream, and they'll come. It will take them a few seconds to get through the locks, but it won’t be enough time for you to get away. After a month of thinking, do you have anything interesting to say?”

Her eyelashes fluttered. He could see the way the blood flushed and blotched over the swell of her chest. Her hair, an utter mess, only made him want her more. And, the way she looked so fragile yet so fierce told the story of the years that had molded both of them into the broken soldiers of their family duty.

“No.” Flynn choked on the word because he had so much to say, and yet nothing to say.

Come with me, I need you more than air. I’ll carry you through thorns and storms and the highest mountains until they can’t find us. I’ll make love to you until you can’t remember what it was like for us to be apart. I’ll put walls around you, choke with razor wire any fuck who comes near you until the world understands this is a bridge not to be crossed. I’ll taste you until your flavor becomes part of me, root inside you until your belly swells and your smile never leaves your lips. I’ll leave a path of destruction behind us with all the faces of those who made you what you are now . . . who caused your indifference, your heart to forget to beat, lest you feel anything.

“Two poison vials and we could be yet another star-crossed lovers’ tragic story. Only, we never got to be lovers, not really.” Lilly fisted the white sheets in her hands.

It became difficult to take a breath. The word ‘lovers’ coming from her rose-petal pink lips creating in him an entirely new level of need.

“Maybe I don’t scream.” Lilly’s voice turned flat. “Maybe we die together. You snap my neck like you did to that boy, then throw yourself off the tower onto the patio. That would be a fitting end, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” Flynn locked his gaze with hers, his tension showing in the notch of his eyebrows.

“Could you imagine?” She shrugged. “What a war you could start; it would almost be worth dying for. Our fathers, once united in their pursuit of all things evil and profit-making, turning against each other in mutual blame and hatred. Neither of them able to claim the prize of fortune I hold inside my head. What a tale it would be back in Ireland. We would be legend. Folktales filled with angst and heartbreak, all about us. They would have to embellish, of course. Lovers have to be lovers, after all.”

The gentle lilt of her accent made Flynn think of running away with her, back to the stone cottages and fields of a world far away.

“If you love, you’re lovers.” Flynn looked at the floor, not sure he’d even said the words out loud.

“People like us don’t love. We don’t get happy endings. That’s what you told me the day you picked me up off the front steps. Remember? Colin came out, told the driver to let me carry my own bags, then showed me exactly how
he
would love me. You—as silent as you are now—watching as he split my lip and kissed my forehead. My future husband, the man I thought loved me enough to bring me halfway around the world and make me the happiest girl ever.” Lilly tipped her head and put her hands under her chin like a bad actress.

“You changed my mind.”

Lilly ignored him as she looked at the ceiling, then settled her jaguar-green eyes on his.

“I remember precisely what you said. You helped me up, then told me, ‘Did you plan on Prince Charming, Cinderella? This place ain’t no fucking fairy tale. There’s no love here. Welcome to hell.’ ”

“A lot’s changed since then. I changed. You changed.”

“No, nothing’s changed. You were right, about everything. I’m the princess in the tower, right? My own father abdicating my care to a man with hands and heart as cold as ice. Then, there’s you. What do you want from me? I have nothing for you. What we could have been was exactly what you told me not to believe in. A fairy tale. This is a tragedy. Everyone dies in the end.” Her smile, as dark as the sky, still lit up the room, and Flynn felt his own heart pound against the wall of his chest. He felt sick.

“I want to die.” Flynn fought to keep his voice steady. “I’ve seen enough people die, I’m not scared. Hell will be better than this. I know that’s where I’m going for the things I’ve done. I could have been everything to you, everything you want, everything you need. You fucking belong to me even if I never get to have you.”

A creak on the floor boards outside the door drew their eyes.

The slow, steady steps faded, and Flynn watched Lilly’s chest begin to rise and fall again.

She reached for the cut crystal glass on her nightstand, the resting vessel for the amber liquid she kept hidden in a shoe box on top of the mahogany armoire.

“I’m not going to scream.” Lilly looked out the window and took the last sip from her glass.

Flynn leaned forward, trying to catch his breath, imagining how it would have felt to be inside of her, two souls melting into a bliss only reserved for those willing to risk indescribable pain. He could smell her subtle scent in the air. It rippled his skin and made the room seem too warm.

When he raised his own emerald eyes, Lilly sat staring at her hands, playing with the gold band on her right ring finger, a reminder of the mother she wished would have protected her. But, still the one person in the world she loved.

“I want you to live.” The ice in her voice melted.

Flynn strained to hear as her voice softened until he could barely make out the words. “I want to keep you around as a reminder of just how close I came to real danger, the kind of danger that only comes when you allow yourself to be seduced by what could have been. By fairy tales.”

Flynn let out another long breath, both hands rubbing over his head before settling on his face. He felt the weight of their sadness, their obligations and secrets. The room felt like it was filling with ice water, both of them freezing and suffocating and unwilling to swim to safety.

“Did you hear me?” The cut in her voice brought him back to the moment.

“What?”

“I’ll let you live if you make me a promise.”

I’m not sure I want to live. I came here to die. I was ready—now my heart is beating again.

“What?” Flynn felt the wave of sick grip his gut.

“Don’t come back here. Don’t think of us. Pretend I’m dead . . . or you will be.”

The crystalline reflection of a single gathering of salt water in the corner of her eye wrapped wire around Flynn’s slowly thumping heart. His fingertips were cold and the room warmer with every second he let his eyes stay on hers.

She held his life in her hands. He’d come here to die. He’d already decided. One scream from her and it would be over.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Flynn didn’t bother to whisper. He was done playing.

The gathered tear found its way down the ripe warmth of her cheek, and a sardonic smile curved the fullness of those beautiful lips.

“I hate you,” she said.

“I know.”

Flynn closed the ten feet between them and took those lips from her, tasting the flavor that haunted his dreams every night since she took his hand that day on the front steps.

Her taste crashed over him. When he released her, the sound of her scream echoed inside the mansion loud enough to raise the roof. Within a minute, the room filled with the sound of footfalls from the hall and the click of the locks opening from outside her gilded prison.

And let it all be done.

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Chapter One

Colorado

Six Weeks before Thanksgiving

Cameron didn’t taste the blood. The metallic flavor so familiar, it didn’t register anymore.

“Can you keep going?” Ahmad asked even though he knew damn well Cameron was fine.

A kick to the teeth and the busted lip that followed barely a blip on his pain radar.

Cameron gave Ahmad a single nod of his head, drops of sweat burning his eyes, lips pulled back exposing the neon yellow mouthpiece streaked with crimson.

Finish him. Quit fucking around—get your head out of your ass. He made you fucking bleed dude. Unacceptable. Take your fucking pink panties off and kill him.

Cameron shook his head sending drops of sweat flying; tunnel vision blocked out everything but the face of his nameless opponent with the purple mohawk and a douche bag ‘TAPOUT’ tattoo over his chest. When the buzzing started in Cameron’s ears, the switch flipped, and the beast took over.

The next sixty seconds turned to a frenzied show of slapping fists, growling animals and the crunch of bone on bone as Cameron brought his shin around like a Medieval morningstar.

His opponent’s head cracked at a right angle to his neck, and he dropped like a crash test dummy onto the mat.

Sometimes, you just need to taste the blood to bring out the beast.

There she stood, all French manicured and highlighted, boobs like cantaloupes standing unnaturally high and hard on her chest. The life sized Barbie doll leaned against the cinderblock wall in the hallway outside the locker room.

“Hey, Cam.” She popped her gum and gave him as smile as fake as her tits. “You know they call you the Force? I didn’t know that until Tiffany told me—you’ve got the most powerful punch they’ve ever recorded.”

Her sing song Trixie tone made his skin feel like fire ants were crawling up and down his back.

“You ready?” He didn’t even bother stopping as he took the sharp right down the hall toward the ‘Exit’ sign.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She toddled behind him on those ridiculous six inch rhinestone encrusted two-buck-stripper heels.

His cock ran the evening’s agenda even though every other reasonable part of Cameron wished he was somewhere else.

“Get in.” Cameron pointed to the passenger door of his 1967 Emerald Green Camero.

The engine fired with a vibrating roar; then settled to a thumping hum as Cameron’s hand felt the smooth round head of the gear shift. He threw it in first, popped the clutch and barely noticed she didn’t have her door shut.