8. Aria

Chapter 8

Aria

The alarm known around the world as coffee tickles my nostrils and beckons me to a new day. I stretch my arms and legs.

The room is warm and inviting, like the fake fur blanket that I find myself nestling in. I feel wonderful and at peace for the first time in months.

My stomach starts to protest for something to eat, and despite wanting to stay where I am, it pulls me out of bed. I'm naked, so I grab the first piece of clothing within reach and pull it over my head.

His T-shirt smells like him, and I find myself drinking in his musk. He brings out a primal lust in me, one I've never experienced in my life.

The aroma of coffee is challenged only by the sweet smell of cinnamon and bacon wafting through the cabin. I follow the scent to where he stands, frying bacon in nothing but an apron and jeans. The sight of his muscled body and olive skin sends shivers through me. I follow the glistening trail of sweat from his taut back down to the neat little V that snakes into his jeans. He's not just powerful in the world but in his physique, too. Like a Jaguar, and I'm his willing prey. I know he's a killer, but somehow, this morning, I don't care.

I clear my throat before he catches me lusting after him, although my erect nipples may give me away anyway.

"Morning." He turns to drink me in, and I know that I could live with that look for my whole life.

"Morning," I say, suddenly shy. "I'm sorry, this was the closest thing I had to wear. The coffee called to me like a siren to a sailor."

He laughs, and his sincere, throaty chuckle makes me melt.

"No need, lady. If I had my way, that's all you would ever wear." His look of desire makes me self-conscious and I touch my face and hair. I start to pile the wild, flowing locks neatly on top of my head, and he walks toward me and stops me. "Don't." I submit, and my hands stay where they are so that I can feel the warmth of his touch for a few moments longer.

"Come and have a seat. I've made us a nice breakfast, and I was thinking that maybe later we could go on a hike. Maybe we could pack a nice picnic lunch." He smiles.

"Sounds wonderful. I'd love to... You cook?" I ask, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Yes. My entire family does. It's an Italian thing. Nobody talks about it, but everybody knows."

"I could get used to this." The words escape before I can clamp my lips shut, and they hang there between us. I don't dare look at him.

"Aria, we need to talk." I brace myself for what's to come. Every person above dating age knows these four words. I don't know what I was thinking, allowing myself to start to fall for him and entertain notions of happily ever after.

His loyalty to his family will always be paramount, and I'm just a pawn in a perverse game of chess.

"You don't need to say it." I try and beat him to the punch.

"Yes, I do. This is more than a fling or an itch needing to be scratched for me. I'm in deep and I don't know what to do. I only know that my brother can't find out about us." My face falls as I begin to see the path before me as the secret plaything of one brother and the bargaining chip of the other.

"At least not until I can figure something out." He grabs my chin and lifts my face to meet his gaze. His lips find mine and the taste of him washes over me. Sweet and powerful. He pulls away. "I promise."

I look away and turn to look at the forest and the lake outside. I don't want him to see the conflict in my eyes. I have never been much of a poker player. My father would say that I was like Venus, not La Giaconda, who hid everything behind a smile. It taught me to look away or risk betraying my true feelings.

He starts to pile eggs and bacon on a plate and takes a plate of buttered toast to the table.

"Come eat. The trails around here really take it out of you," he says.

"I think I can keep up," I say .

"That sounds like a challenge." He looks at me over his shoulder, and that look just punches holes in my resolve.

"Let's put it this way: loser does the dishes and cooks tonight," I say.

"Challenge accepted." He smiles.

"I thought I smelled something sweet earlier," I venture, trying not to betray my sweet tooth.

"Ahhh, me lady has attuned olfactory powers," he says with a sneer, and I can't help but laugh at this playful, gentle side of him. I nearly choke on my coffee.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

"I'm fine. You made me laugh," I say, wiping my chin. "Are you always such a goof?"

"Nah. Not much call for it in my...line of work," he answers.

"Too bad. I like it," I say.

"Then I'll save it just for you."

***

The oak and mighty redwoods are breathtaking in their scope. I understand why people come here to find stillness and connection. The different greens and the smell of pure, unpolluted air is heady. I almost feel like I'm getting high as we walk along the Bircher Trail. I'm wearing sneakers, but I can almost sense the soft, mossy grass beneath my feet.

"Wow. You weren't kidding," he says. "Do you work out much?"

"A little, but I really just love walking and running sometimes. It clears my head, you know. It's almost meditative. When I left college, I decided that I wanted to walk the El Camino," I say.

"The religious pilgrimage trail?" he asks surprised.

"Yeah. That was three years ago now."

"I never would've guessed it. You don't strike me as the religious type," he asks almost absentmindedly. It's not a judgment call or indictment; it's just a sincere observation. That's one of the things that draws me to him; he's not like other men in this world, who are filled with secrets and agendas. He says what he means and doesn't suffer fools.

I hear a crunch behind us, and he turns and lifts his fingers to his lips. I freeze, and he indicates with his hand that I should get down quietly. He removes a small revolver from his ankle, and I wonder again about the duality of this man—kind and gentle one moment and cold-blooded assassin the next.

I'm sure that it's just a deer or some other forest dweller, but I also know that I need to listen. It's been a long time since I've had to live like this, and contrary to what people think, it doesn't just come back. Well, maybe it does. I am confident in my abilities.

I stay silent, and he comes over to me. He shows me a small hole in a giant redwood and mimes so that I can make my way to the opening quietly, hide there, and wait for him. I walk slowly and carefully to the opening that is like a little alcove in the tree. It's hidden, just enough to give protection but not so much that I lose sight of him.

I watch as he moves through the growth like a cat stalking unsuspecting prey. He moves a few branches off the trail and creates another trail that leads off into another part of the forest. He strides up the trail like a feral child and hides behind one of the broader bushes.

A man emerges from the undergrowth, and I fight every urge to call out and warn Franco. The man surveys the trail, and for a moment, I consider that he might be just another hiker until he reaches into his jacket and removes a gun.

I open my mouth to scream, but another man moves in front of me, just a few feet away from my hiding place.

I remain still. One wrong move could get us both killed and even if I could warn Franco, he'd never be able to subdue the guy in front and get to me before the other guy found me. I can't see the one outside, but I can hear him. Labored breathing. They've been following us for a while, and he is trying to conceal his breathing, which is having the opposite effect.

The man in front moves underneath the tree, and Franco jumps out and knocks him out cold. The guy outside my hiding place starts firing, and I look for something to hobble him with, but then a single shot rings out, and I hear him fall to the ground like a giant redwood that's reached the end of its lifecycle. His head is gone.

I watch while Franco pulls the bodies together and burns both men's clothing. He destroys every trace of their identity.

"Turn away," he says to me sternly. He's in full predator mode.

I don't need to look over my shoulder to know what he's doing. The sound of flesh meeting steel is unmistakable.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to make sure that the wolves get to them and soon." We can't risk anyone finding this place again or finding them.

"What do you think they wanted? No one knows we're here." I'm starting to panic. A marriage contract to unite two warring families was one thing, but having a bullseye painted on my back is another.

"I don't know, Aria. I don't know." I believe him.

***

We go back to the cabin with our uneaten lunch. Hunger is a distant memory now. We walk and say nothing to each other about what's just happened or the men we've just left to be stripped like antelope on the Serengeti by wolves.

It's wrong, and I fight it with every fiber of my being, but feeling this safe with someone, this protected, makes me confused and aroused. Watching him make quick work of those men in the forest was exciting and strangely calming. Knowing that he exercises that much control with just a thought and can move from tender lover to a man willing to kill to protect makes me see him in a strange and exciting new light. I'm torn, though. I wanted to leave that life behind. I don't want a killer. I'm done with that. I should leave.

I left my family because I wanted to get away from the meaningless violence that is their bread and butter, but here I am hundreds of miles and years later, right back at the place I've been running from, and falling for someone who epitomizes everything that I have come to hate.

The confusion is overwhelming, but then so was the fear I felt when I thought they would beat him in the woods. Not fear for myself or my safety but for him. That I would lose him. That scared me more than anything else that happened and still scares me now. I hold onto him even harder. I don't pull away. I drink him in and find solace in his embrace.

We arrive at the cabin and he tells me to go upstairs and take a warm bath or shower to relax. He's going to check the perimeter.

He returns after an hour and tells me that he found their car and drove it in the opposite direction from where we are, in case they're being monitored, and pushed it off a ravine.

"Do you think that will work?" I ask.

"Yes. These woods are designed to swallow people in. It's where people come when they want to fall off the face of the earth." He pauses and strips down to ease himself into the hot, sudsy water. I've never bathed with anyone before and have to suppress a girlish giggle. "There's not much coverage out here, so I guess that it will be a while before they're missed or even found."

I notice the welts and bruises from his fighting and how every time water comes into contact with it, he winces. I get out of the tub and remove some antiseptic and cotton balls from the cupboards.

I get back in the tub and move over to him to tend to his wounds. When I'm done, I begin to slowly massage the knots out of his shoulders, neck, head and arms. I spread my legs, and he slides comfortably into the space between them with his back to me. He relaxes into me and lets me work his tired body.

We're wrinkled when we get out. We towel off, and he goes to the kitchen and returns with food and drinks. We lie on the bed and watch movies on the TV that appears from behind an oak-paneled wall. Surprisingly, he likes light-hearted comedies like me. "Enough darkness in the world," is all he says when I ask why.

Somewhere around Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler's make-up kiss, I hear a gentle snoring from my place in the crook of his arm. I look up and take in his soapy scent, snuggle in, and let the night take me.