SWNOVELS Brutal Savage: Chapter 4
“I brought you breakfast, Gran.” I knock on her door, waiting for her to answer.
Yet my mind is still on the mystery man.
I have to keep my distance from him. Being attracted to a man who might be in the Mafia is one of the worst things I could possibly do, especially if said man is somehow connected to my past.
“Coming, dear!” She shuffles around from behind the door before it opens. Her gray hair is in a short ponytail, her floral dress reminding me of a spring day. “You’re so good to me.”
Her arms come around me in the warmest hug before she takes the brown paper bag and coffee cup. “Do you wanna come in? We can watch some Family Feud like we did when you were little.”
“Not right now, Gran. I wanna get my run in before we go see Grandpa.”
“Of course, sweetheart. I understand.” Her pale blue eyes shine brightly.
“I’ll come pick you up in about an hour. Love you, Gran.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.” She smiles before closing the door behind her.
I slip my earbuds in and turn on some music.
Starting to jog, I head toward my usual spot: an open road, forests and mountains in the distance. It’s scenic and peaceful, not too many cars passing by.
I like running. It helps clear my mind, like my own form of therapy. I try going whenever I can. On the weekends. After work. Sometimes more than once a day.
A mile into my run, and my mind is back on that awfully attractive stranger. No matter how hard I try to push him out of my head, he storms right back in.
His dark and dangerous aura commands my thoughts. But when he smirks, my heart grows weak. It’s like I can still see him. Right in front of me.
Then, with a sudden shift, it’s Jerry’s hand around my throat…squeezing.
Tighter.
And tighter.
My breaths lurch out of me, my chest burning with every inhale.
“Fuck,” I grit. “Get out of my head!”
It’s then I see them together, prowling toward me. The stranger and the man my father sold me to.
I blink past the tears and fight them. Fight the pain and anger. Fight the reasons I’m still being hunted.
I focus on the present. On the fact that I’m still alive. On my job. The kids. On Brody. Sweet Brody, who always makes me happy even when he doesn’t say a word.
Those things help me stay grounded. Because amidst the chaos, there’s still a lot to be grateful for.
Once I hit three miles, I start heading back to town so I can get my grandma.
But suddenly, I feel something behind me. It’s like my body knows someone’s there before my mind does.
I lower the music, registering the roaring of an engine.
Every hair on my body prickles across my skin as I slowly yank the earbuds out of my ears and stuff them into the pouch.
My pulse ricochets in my throat as I glance behind my shoulder, finding a black SUV slowly following me.
Fuck.
Could it be them?
It has to be.
If I run, they’ll just shoot me down. If I stay, maybe I can talk my way out of this.
A ball of nerves rides up my throat. I wish I had my gun on me. If it’s Jerry or one of his people, I want to be ready.
I won’t go down like a coward. I’ll fight him until my last breath.
Frozen on the road, I wait for the car to come to a full stop, my chest heavy as the passenger side window rolls down.
And when I see who’s inside, I realize it’s not Jerry or his people.
It’s him.
The man from the café.
A whoosh of a breath leaves my lungs, but the instant relief is only momentary.
“Ms. Hill.” He greets me in a soft, yet rough tone, and I hate the way I take in those cunning green eyes, murky and full of secrets.
“Are you stalking me?” I arch a brow and his mouth lifts a fraction.
“Just out for a drive. How’s your run?” His gaze laces down my body, and my breathing grows labored, every part of me aware of where his eyes have been.
“Fine. Until now. Anything I can do for you?”
Without a word, he opens the passenger side door. “Get in, Ms. Hill.”
Okay, so he’s clearly a lunatic too. Great… Why else would he want me to just jump into his car for no apparent reason?
“No, thanks.” My features upturn with annoyance.
“It wasn’t a request.” His eyes narrow in challenge.
I scoff and start jogging.
Sure, pissing off a supposed Mafia man is probably not the smartest of choices this morning, but here we are.
I register the growl as he sends the car rolling down the road to catch up with me, the door still open.
“You need to leave me alone.” I stop moving and send a hard stare his way. “This is getting borderline criminal.”
He chuckles, and I hate to admit the way my stomach dips when I hear it.
I brush off the feeling and continue glaring. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” That one word, rough and gravelly, sends a tremor down my body. “Now, be a good girl and get in so I can give you a ride back into town. You never know who you’ll find driving down this road.”
“I do now.”
His lips form a thin line. “Come on, Ms. Hill. Don’t make me wait any longer. I’m not a very patient man.”
I have two options: fight him or give in.
Thinking through it, I’m not sure running would get me very far. Because a man like this always gets what he wants.
What’s the worst that can happen?
He could kill me…
Discreetly, I slip my hand into my pouch to retrieve my keys. They’re the only weapon I have handy, and one could do lots of damage with them.
Stabbing him in the throat comes to mind.
My fingers close in around them as I nervously start toward the SUV.
Everything about him screams death and destruction, and I wonder if I’m headed toward my own grave.
He looks satisfied with himself when I hop in beside him, while every molecule in me begs to get out.
When I try to fasten my seat belt, he grabs it from me. “Let me.”
His eyes snap to mine as he buckles me in. And when his knuckles accidentally brush my arm, my body crackles like fireworks.
I inhale sharply, his eyes hooded as they drop to my mouth, then back up, gaze sinking deeper, like he wants to devour me.
But the devil won’t be able to. I won’t let him.
He straightens his spine and starts the car, moving it slowly—like he wants to keep me here for as long as possible.
“Do you normally pick up random women on the side of the road? You should know that’s how some creepy movies start.”
That mouth, it twitches like he wants to laugh. “Do you think I’m creepy?”
“Will it get me killed if I answer truthfully?”
He tilts his penetrating gaze to mine. “Why would I kill you?”
I shrug. “Because you’re you.”
“What do you know about me? What did your friend tell you?” His voice simmers, and my stomach tightens.
“Nothing?”
“Come on, Ms. Hill.” His palm drops to the top of my thigh right above my kneecap, and I instantly shiver, biting my lip to stop myself from groaning, my nails digging into my palm.
This is embarrassing at this point. How can a man affect me this much?
A tattoo snakes around the top of his hand, a lion with cold, discerning eyes, like it’s watching me.
“What do they say about me in these parts?”
My breaths grow ragged when he squeezes his fingers a little.
I tremble in my seat, unable to withstand the strange creeping of need slinking down my body. Unable to shake off how much I like the way he’s touching me right now. His hands—large and rough and masculine—like he’d throw me around with ease even if I fight him.
“Nothing. I swear.” The words choke out of me, and that causes a harsh, short chuckle to break through his lungs.
“You’re a bad liar.” His touch leaves me, and the spot where his palm was feels instantly barren.
“I just heard you’re dangerous. That’s all.” I stick with honesty because I’m sure he knows exactly what people say about him.
“Hmm. That wouldn’t be a lie. And what about you, Ms. Hill? Are you dangerous?”
My eyes grow, and I quickly look out the window, trying to find a reply that won’t get me a bullet in my temple. “Me? No. I’m just a teacher. I’m not the one who’s supposedly connected to the Mafia.”
Crap. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
“You think I’m connected to the Mafia and you just freely offer up that knowledge?”
“I guess I’m not that smart.”
It’s back. His touch… A single finger crawling up my thigh.
My pulse throbs in my neck as I wait to see where it lands.
“I find that very hard to believe.” His voice oozes with prowess, and I ache for him to do more.
I imagine myself touching the stubble riding up his angular jawline, while his eyes drift to a close, enjoying it as he holds me on his lap. Those big hands on my hips, keeping me just where he wants me.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
My God, when was the last time I was this attracted to a man? Much less this brazenly.
His hand disappears, and I’m both relieved and sad. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched. Since I’ve wanted to be touched.
That’s what this is. Lust. Pure, undulated lust.
“How do you like it? Teaching.”
His question has me clearing my throat. Definitely need to keep the conversation on normal things like my job. That’s safe.
His hands on me, on the other hand? Not very safe.
My smile widens when I think about the kids. “I love it. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I love helping them, getting through to them. It fulfills me.”
He nods. “And is that what you did back where you moved from?”
Shit. I don’t want to give anything away, yet I have to give him something. There’s no way he knows where I’m from or that we’ve been moving from place to place for the past year. This town is the longest we’ve lived somewhere.
“Yes.”
“Commendable. We need more teachers like you, who care.”
“Thanks.” I stare at the empty road ahead. “Wish I could do more, though. You know, for the kids who need it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s hard. Some kids come from heartbreaking situations and need extra love.”
“Someone in class is being hurt?” He looks in my direction, and his icy glare makes him appear almost human. It nearly looks like he’d care if a child was being mistreated.
“Oh, nothing like that.”
We continue to lock eyes, and I instantly regret it. He makes me feel things. Bad things. Or good. Depends on how you look at it, I guess.
“Then what, Ms. Hill?”
Can he stop saying my name like he’s constantly flirting with me?
As though hearing my thoughts, that sinful mouth curls on one side.
“There’s a boy in my class. He’s…”
“He’s what?” His jaw clenches.
“He’s sweet and kind and he…he stopped talking about a year ago. And it breaks my heart that I can’t do anything for him.”
I don’t miss the way his hand tightens around the wheel, knuckles turning white, and I wonder if I made a mistake by saying something.
“You know why?” he asks.
“Why what?” My heartbeats speed up, fear of this man returning.
“Why he stopped talking.”
“His parents died. That would do it. Trauma does a lot to a person, especially one so young.”
His body turns visibly rigid, the vein in his neck twitching. He barely looks at me anymore as he drives us back to town. And before I can tell him my address, he’s on my street.
A chill creeps up my arms.
He knows where I live.
The devil knows where I live.
He stops right in front of my home. “Have a good day, Ms. Hill.”
His demeanor is no longer friendly. Those eyes darkening. His facial expression cold.
I stuff down my anxiety and hop out.
Closing the door behind me, I vow to get as far away from him as possible.