Sabin, A Seven Novel (9 page)

The look he gives me is not at all friendly and I don’t get it. One minute he’s all nice and soft, and the next, he breathes frost and ice.

“Not a southern boy. You’re right about that, Ms. Callahan.”

His use of my last name rattles me. “Ms. Callahan? I would think that since we’ll be sleeping together, we could at least be on a first name basis.”

“Listen to what I have to say, because I’m only going to say this one time. We are here to save your neck. Understand? This isn’t some little weekend getaway, or a little joy time where you and I chat and get to know one another. I have a job, my men have their jobs, we will do them, and hopefully succeed, so you can live. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.” I clamp my jaws together. What the heck did I say to put him in such a pissy mood?

“Good. Now, I need to get some work done, so you can continue to fill those pretty little lungs of yours with precious air. Good day, Ms. Callahan.”

Jesus Christmas, what the heck just happened here? We were having a simple conversation and he goes completely psycho on me. Who the hell are these people? And how many times am I going to ask myself this question before I finally get an answer? The hairs on my neck shoot up and I’m not sure I like the way this is turning out. At all.

What the fuck did I just do? Could I have possibly been any more uncivil to the girl? All she did was try to make conversation with me. My stride lengthens as it carries me to the sec center. All eyes land on me as I enter.

“Well?” Rafe asks.

“Well, what?”

He grabs my arm and pulls me to the side. “Judgment Day? The girlfriend? Which one?” He fires off the questions, one after the other.

Fuck. I scrub my face and look at him. Then I march back out and head for the bedroom, but Serena isn’t there. However, the bathroom door is closed. I walk up to it and can hear the shower running. Excellent. Just excellent. Then she starts to sing. Or at least that’s what I think it’s supposed to be only it sounds more like an animal screeching in pain.

“Serena.” No response, other than her singing about swinging from a chandelier and tomorrow not existing. Fuck. Help me. I hope she doesn’t sing in her sleep.

I pound on the door and call her name again. Now she’s singing about holding on for dear life. No shit. Aren’t we all?

“Serena!”

“Ack,” she shrieks. “What?”

“I need to speak with you.”

“Crap. You scared me.”

Yeah, well let me tell you, sweetheart, what your singing did to me. “Sorry. This is important. How long before you’re finished?”

“Hang on. I’ll be out in a sec.” I hear the water turn off. Minutes later she walks out as steam pours into the room. Christ, did she use all the hot water? And how long was she in there? But then I get a look at her wrapped in nothing but that skimpy towel and the smartass comment that was hovering on the tip of my tongue vanishes like a wisp of smoke. And so does the question I was going to ask her.

I am mesmerized as I watch her squeeze the excess water out of her hair. “Do you by any chance have any extra towels around here? I took the only unused one I could find.”

Saliva pools in my mouth as I gawk at her lips. Yes, gawk. I ogle this woman and am incapable of tearing my fucking eyes away from her. She’s exquisite. Her porcelain skin gleams with beaded moisture and I swear to whatever god she worships, if I could lick every droplet off her, I would. I think my cock just moaned, because it’s about to rip a fucking hole in my damn pants.

“Sabin? I asked you a question.”

I want to fall on my knees, grab that towel, and bury my face between her thighs. Instead, I clear my throat. Not once but several times and swallow. Control. I need to regain control. How in the ever loving fuck am I going to spend one night in that bed with this woman and keep my greedy hands off her? Has anyone ever died of a boner before? I may be the first.

“Yes, I will locate more towels for you.” My voice is gruff.

“Thank you. And you wanted?”

Wanted? Other than to slam my cock into you and make you moan, what did I want?

“Yeah. Could you get dressed, please?”

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know where my clothes are. They’re not in the closet.”

Where the hell did Rafe stow her things? “I’ll check that out. In the meantime, I’ll give you something to wear.” There’s no fucking way I can carry on a decent conversation with her only wearing that towel. My cock brain won’t allow it. I hurry to the closet and come up with a T-shirt and a pair of workout pants. “These will be quite large on you, but they’ll do until I can locate your things.”

She goes into the bathroom and comes back out swimming in my clothes. It makes me smile. Nothing, or hardly anything, makes me smile.

“You like?”

“Yeah. Very sexy.” She thinks I’m joking. But I’m not. Not even a little. Even in those damn things that are as big as a sack on her, she still looks like the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in ages. Maybe in my entire life. As much as I hate this, I indicate that she take a seat on the bed. Then I begin.

“You said the necklace was given to a friend that you’ve fallen out of favor with?”

“Yeah, stupid girl thinks I tried to steal her loser of a boyfriend. Now she won’t speak to me. I mean seriously, the guy is the biggest mooch, won’t work, lives with her, and I caught him stealing money out of her wallet. Then
she
gets mad at
me
.”

And this is what drives me nuts about women. “Okay, that’s all fine.”

She stops me with her arm extended, palm facing me. “What do you mean it’s all fine? There is nothing fine about that. At all. He was stealing from her. She had no right to be angry with me. She should’ve been happy that I caught the thief.”

“True, but that’s not what I meant. What I’m going for is that for the sake of our situation, it doesn’t matter about her being angry with you.”

“Of course it matters. Now that she’s angry with me, I’m pissed at her.”

Right about now, my fuse, which is minute to begin with, is about to blow.

“I understand. I would be pissed, too. But can you put your anger aside for a second? We need to focus on the necklace, Serena.” Admittedly, my response is a bit testy.

“Okay. Fine.” Now she’s tapping her toe and that’s a bad sign. I’ve seen her do this before, when she’s not happy with things.

I inhale as much air as my lungs will allow. For some reason, I find I’ve been doing this a lot since Serena’s come into my life. Next thing I know, I’ll be taking yoga. “Okay, so what we need to know is who and where this friend is. We need to get to her and get the necklace back.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

Snap, there goes what’s left of my patience. “What the hell does that mean?” My voice booms.

“Whoa there, cowboy. Calm your rowdy ass right on down.”

Cowboy? Rowdy ass? Before I even realize it, my fingers wrap around her biceps and I say, “Listen to me you silly little girl. You don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on here. Those things that attacked you underwater, the Shaurok, will find your friend. They want that necklace, whether or not you choose to believe me. And if they get to her before we do, they will shred her little body, along with that loser boyfriend’s of hers, to pieces. My men are trying to save your friend’s ass.” By the time I finish, my face is up into hers and I’m yelling.

In a tiny voice that trembles, she says, “You’re hurting me.”

Ahh, fuuuccckkk! I instantly release her. “Christ, Serena, I apologize. Let me see.”

But it’s too late. She backs away from me, scooting across the bed like a wounded animal.

“Serena, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Right. That’s what all men who abuse women say.”

Shit. Now she thinks I’m an abuser. Great. This is going exceedingly well. As good as it can get.

“Serena, I don’t …”

“You know, I think I liked it better when you called me Ms. Callahan.”

“All right then, Ms. Callahan.” If that makes her more comfortable, then I’ll call her whatever she wants. “I was only trying to make a point with you and I guess I got carried away.”

“Um hmm. That’s what they all say. And that trying to make a point thing—I’m sure you succeeded. I’m sure your
points
will be to the tune of black and blue ones by tomorrow, embedded on my arm. I have enough bruises already, thank you very much.”

And that she does.

“Fine, I understand. But we still need your friend’s name and address. Unless you want her dead.”

Then all hell breaks loose. “Of course I don’t want her dead, you assface. What kind of a person do you think I am? I’m not like that. I’ve never ever hurt anyone in my life. It’s always the other way around. I’m the one that gets dumped on, used, and abused. It took me a whole fucking year after I moved out of my parents’ house to even be able to make a single friend.” By the time she finishes, she’s yelling at me. Then her hand flies up to her mouth, covering it as though she’s shocked she’s spewed out all those telling words. She grabs a pillow and buries her face in it. I’m not sure if she wants to hide herself from me, or if she’s simply shocked at what occurred. But when I see her body shaking, I know the answer. She’s crying. Now I feel even worse, like the lowest of the low. I’ve made the poor girl cry. I’m the biggest shit.

Walking around the bed, I sit down and pull her next to me as I put my arms around her. She flinches from me at first, but then relaxes onto my chest as she sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she ekes out.

“Whatever for? I’m the jerk who made this happen. I’m the one who’s sorry. You called it. I’m the worst kind of ass.” I pet her hair as the sobs continue. I’ve never been very good at this sort of thing, but I really do feel terrible for making her cry. And that is disturbing in itself. I rarely feel bad about anything I do. I lift up the sleeve of her shirt and now I feel like a piece of dirt. There’s a nice shade of purple forming into my handprint. Goddammit. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Serena finally lifts her head and her eyes lacerate me. It feels like she’s taken a hot jagged knife and jabbed it straight into my guts. Her eyes never leave mine when her index finger pokes me in the chest and she says through her tears, in a low but firm voice, “Now you listen to me and listen to me good, buddy boy.”

Buddy boy?

She sniffs, wipes her face, and gives a little sob. “Don’t you ever manhandle me like that again. If you do, I will twist your nut sack so hard, you’ll be hitting all the high notes when you sing. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Sniff, sniff. “I get that you’re trying to protect me, but that doesn’t give you the right to bully me in the process.” She uses her shirt to wipe her face.

I swallow hard and shake my head. Well, fuck me. She just gave me one dressing down. This woman doesn’t mess around. She doesn’t look the type that can swing a punch so I ask, “You can fight?” I never would’ve guessed, since she never put one up when I went to her apartment.

She gives one final sniff and wipes the few tears that still dribble. “Yes. I’ve studied Krav Maga. Well, I would suck against you because you’re so, so fucking
big
! And you shocked the heck out of me when you were invisible and all.”

We are a bit intimidating. “So, your friend?”

“Okay!” Frustration pours out of her. “Her name is Tara Miller and she lives in Durham, North Carolina.” She gives me her address. “But I swear, if you ever lay a hand on me again!”

“We’re trying to save you! The Shaurok are most likely headed to Durham as we speak. And if we don’t do something fast, they’re going to try to get Judgment Day and your little friend Tara is going to end up looking like she was put through a meat grinder.”

“Stop trying to scare me!”

I grit my teeth and hiss. “I’m not even close to scaring you. You have no idea what will happen if they get their hands on Judgment Day.”

“Judgment Day?”

“Yes. Judgment Fucking Day!”

“I-I don’t know what that means.”

“Of course you don’t.” My manner turns brusque. I know I’m being the world’s biggest dickwad, but right now, my men are my main concern and they’re getting ready to take a damn beating to get the thing back.