Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Cain

"Cain!"

I look up from my laptop, my eyes blurry from staring too long, and blink. Someone just called my name.

"Cain, come here!" It's Skylar.

I jump up from my seat and stalk to my office door, my pulse accelerating. Why the hell is she yelling for me? I yank it open, ready to grab the weapon I keep on me at all times. I check the heft of it in my holster, just in case.

It's been too calm around here for too damn long, and my head's been so buried in research I'm still mentally in the dark and dirty trenches of my research.

"Cain!"

My boots hit hard on the top landing as I jog toward the top of the stairs.

"What?" My heart's beating hard, and I don't hear Violet. Where's Violet?

I come around the corner at the top of the stairs, staring down the banister at the living room below. Skylar stands with her hands on her hips and Violet's in her shadow, shaking her head.

"Told her you were busy," Violet mutters, rolling her eyes. She's got a string of pinecones in her hand. "But she insisted." Violet looks up at me and her eyes go a little wider. "See? I told you not to yell his name. You scared the hell out of him. Lucky he didn't blow your damn head off."

" I'm not the one who shoots without reason," I remind her.

She rolls her eyes heavenward. "You shoot a weapon you didn't know was loaded one time and you never live it down."

"Never."

Joe snorts from the doorway, walking in with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a napkin in the other. "Boss, we got a call from a Miss Robbins? She says she has some urgent news."

Violet looks at me. "First time I ever heard of that one." There's a chill in her gaze I haven't seen often, and I look at her curiously.

"Yeah, because the case is as cut and dried as they come." I groan. "And seriously, this Robbins woman's intense."

Violet narrows her gaze so slightly it's barely noticeable, but I notice it. "I'm intense, too."

Really? She's playing this game with me now? I look at Joe when he opens up the napkin he holds and pulls out a cookie.

"For Christ's sake, don't walk in there getting crumbs all over the place," I tell him.

"I won't." He pops the whole thing in his mouth and grins.

"The garland," Skylar says, interrupting whatever's going on between me and Violet. "Violet says it's too much, but I love it, so you're the tiebreaker."

Violet grimaces.

They're arguing over… room decor? I knew I should've taken on the last two cases that came to me, but I wanted to free us up to focus on Violet's parents' case. I'm on the cusp of a breakthrough.

"Oh no you don't," I say to them. "No goddamn way I'm getting in the middle of you two about that ."

Skylar rolls her eyes.

When they first met, Skylar wore nothing but black and often hid her gaze beneath thick, long bangs. She'd found her people among the Wiccans of Salem, and Violet knows and respects that. But much of the way she dressed reflected her dark inner world. Things are a bit different now. Skylar's… changed since she's moved in here.

She still meets with her Wiccan friends, and it's still a large part of who she is. But she doesn't hide the way she used to. Violet's brought her out of her shell, you could say.

Violet has that effect on people. She doesn't have what I'd call a cheery personality—no, she's really nothing like that. She's honest, though, sometimes brutally. She hides nothing, so she values bold truth and unencumbered sincerity.

I love that about her. It's partly why I hate that I've hidden anything from her at all.

But Violet has secrets, too.

"I don't want to decorate, " Violet says, cringing. She throws up her garland-covered hands and gives it to Skylar. "Go ahead. Put ‘em up. Get some… scarecrows for the front yard, or Christmas lights, or whatever the fuck. Peace out." She hands Skylar the pinecones and leaves the room. I hear the kitchen door shut behind her, then the whines and barks of greeting from Romulus and Remus, our pit bulls. They love Violet.

Joe stares at me, his cheeks still stuffed with cookie. Skylar gives me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I don't… really know what set her off. Like, is she hormonal or something?"

Joe holds up his hands and leaves as quickly as he came, likely wanting nothing at all to do with a discussion about Violet's hormones.

I blow out a breath and shake my head. I suspect I know what's bothering her.

"It's not you," I tell Skylar. "Let me handle her."

Skylar turns back to the mantle and arranges the pinecones with a flair of victory. She got her way. "Oh believe you me, I am happy to stand back and let you handle her, as long as you handling her is done behind closed doors."

This, from the girl who once had a chair particularly suited for tantric sex maneuvers in her bedroom.

"Are those scented?" The smell of cinnamon and cloves lingers in the air.

"Mhm," she says triumphantly. "I wanted to get pumpkin spice, but Violet had an opinion on that." She sniffs the air in mock dismay.

It's sunny but chilly when I go out the back door to find Violet. I know I need to. I know I'm the only one that knows what's bothering her, and I don't want anything to fester between us.

I glance to the left where we often train. I've given Violet free rein to teach martial arts classes, and she's enjoying it. But the training field, the outside ring, and the semi-enclosed area near the pool are all vacant. Romulus and Remus are still by the back door, standing guard. I pat their heads.

"Where'd she go, boys? Target range?" They only lick my hands but don't betray Violet's whereabouts. Figures.

I look to the target range, but it looks undisturbed. I open the door just to be safe, but it's cold and dark when I enter. Vacant.

"Violet!" I call her name, hoping she'll answer, but the wind picks up and swallows my voice. Clouds part, brilliant light bathing the ground in front of me. Down by the private beach that flanks my home, I look for footprints, but find nothing.

I know where she is.

I walk down a hidden walkway built from rocks, so discreet and functional, it's as if the side of the mountain where my home's built was designed primarily for this function. I walk down to the beach, hang a left, and head for the large, private open field where I've set up her training station.

My men use it, too, but we all know it's Violet's.

It took a solid week of construction, and the equipment needed would buy me a new truck, but it was worth every penny. The waterproof, outdoor-proof training station is suitable for stretching and boxing. Featuring cables, a dual stack functional trainer for combat and rebounding, two pull-up stations, and monkey bars, it's state-of-the-art.

Violet calls it "going out to play," but the intensity of the equipment and how she uses it is anything but. To the left of what looks like a souped-up playground, we set up a secure shed to house heavy sandbags, strength bands, medicine balls and kettlebells. We have a fully equipped indoor exercise room, but Violet prefers working outside. She thrives in the outdoors with nothing but the sky above her.

I can see her tiny, petite frame, dangling from a pull-up bar, suspended in the air like she's weightless. I stand against the rocky wall that leads to her workout area. Watching.

I cross my arms on my chest and lean back so she doesn't see me. I love to watch the way she curls her body upward, then down again, her slim figure taut as she stretches and elongates her muscles. She pulls up then lowers down once, twice, three times, then swings from the bar, preparing to vault herself toward the parkour station I've set up behind it.

I watch as she gracefully leaps over and under the bars, vaulting herself forward before she swings herself with ease to a platform at the very top. I've set up a ropes training course here as well which she navigates with ease, keeping her instincts primed, her body strengthened, and her reflexes sharp.

She lands barefoot on the springy landing platform at the foot of the highest bar, crouches, and looks my way. Her right side drops lower, her knuckles grazing the ground, a primal look if ever I saw one.

She scowls. "Stop lurking in the shadows and tell me why you followed me. Hiding's so unlike you," she says with disdain.

"I'm not hiding." I step into the light, arms still crossed. "And you're getting mouthy as fuck."

"Getting?" she says with a sneer. "You knew when you kissed this mouth what you were getting into."

It doesn't really bother me that she's impossible to break, impossible to understand, and headstrong as they come. I fucking love that about her.

She turns away from me as if to dismiss me, and heads to the singlesticks, otherwise known as cudgels. She lifts one and weighs it in her hands. A slender, round stick nearly three feet long, it's thinner at one end and thicker at the other, a suitable weapon for someone of her slim stature.

"You're better than this, Violet," I say, heading toward her. I grab a cudgel myself and kick my shoes off.

I face her, stick in hand. I want to bend her over and smack her ass with the damn thing.

"Better than what?" she says, eyes narrowed. Behind us, the waves crash on the shore. Violet shivers with a sudden gust of wind, then shrugs it off with impatience, like she doesn't have time for that bullshit.

"Running," I tell her, just before I swish my stick through the air. She easily deflects the blow, then throws her weight into sending another one my way.

"I'm not running ."

"The hell you aren't." Thwack. My stick hits hers with a thud. "You lost your shit in there, then stormed off like a pouty teen."

"You go to the target range, I come here. So shoot me." She rolls her eyes, swivels, and strikes again. I deflect the cudgel.

"I just want to know why you ran." I swing back at her.

She scowls at me, swings the bar, and nearly knocks me on my ass. "I. Did. Not! "

I deflect the blow, then toss her one of my own. She curses under her breath, stumbling with the effort of deflecting. "Oh for fuck's sake," she growls when she falls to one knee. She's down long enough for me to set her off balance with another whack of my stick on hers. She ducks, and seconds later I've got her pinned beneath me, the cudgels forgotten. Her wrists are in my grip, and her furious gaze is pinned on me.

"My, my, my," I tease her. "You're in an interesting situation, now, aren't you? In fact… I do believe this is almost familiar. Do you feel déjà vu or is it just me?"

"Get fucking off me," she says uselessly, still pinned in my grip. I'm so much heavier than she is, it's almost unfair how easily I pin her.

"You promised, Violet."

She wilts a little, the smallest flicker of fire dying down in her eyes. "I made several promises to you, Mr. Master," she says through gritted teeth. "But you made promises as well."

Ahh. So now we're getting somewhere.

"So this is about promises."

She holds my gaze, her jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Tell me, Violet. Tell me the promises we've made each other."

My heart feels like it's been stabbed when her eyes water. Violet only cries when she's angry, and now she's fucking furious. I hate that it's come to this. A part of me wants to hold her to me, kiss the tears away, and promise I'll make it better. And another part of me wants to toss her over my lap and spank her until she cries real tears, for being so goddamned infuriating and stubborn.

"I… I promised I'd never try to fight you again," she says, somewhat abashed. One could easily argue she was trying right now.

"Right. We work together. As a team ," I say pointedly. "What promise did I make you when we found Skylar together?"

Her eyes flit away from mine, but I grab her chin and force her gaze back to me.

She blinks, a steely note coming back to her voice. "You promised me you'd find my parents' murderer."

I knew it was only a matter of time before we had this discussion.

"I did."

She pushes my wrists, but she can't move me. I double down and hold her more firmly. "And what, Cain? Here we are, and it's almost Christmastime, and what have we done along those lines?"

Ah. It makes sense to me now.

"Did we talk about a timeframe, Violet?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Stop being an asshole and get the fuck off of me."

"Answer me."

I hold her harder until she growls and reluctantly admits, "No."

"And you forgot something else, sweetheart. Didn't you?"

She tries to look away again, but my fingers on her chin yank her eyes back to mine. " Didn't you?"

She inhales, then pushes her breath out and juts her chin. "I did."

"Tell me, Violet."

She clenches her jaw and doesn't speak.

I lean in closer, my grip tighter. "You fucking tell me or I'll make you, and you know exactly how."

She shivers. She won't admit it, but even angry she's aroused when I threaten to dominate her.

"Fine. Fine. I… I promised you that…" she blinks, and her voice is a little choked. "I promised you that I was yours."

I lean down closer and kiss her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed, and a cool breeze stirs over us.

"We made a deal, Miss Price. And I won't let you forget it."

She opens her eyes. The look she gives me stabs my heart. "You won't let me forget my promise to you, but what about your promise to me ? Cain, I can't stand it anymore."

"Can't stand what?"

Her eyes plead with me. "Let me up, and I'll explain. You're heavy."

I let her go and sit on the ground beside her. She pouts, rubbing her wrists. "I've had it. Every fucking job we do that has nothing to do with why I came here. Fucking check the identity of a new hire. Done. Follow the cheating ex of your millionaire playboy's bestie. Done. Vet the legitimacy of a potential business partner for some god-awful billionaire and his harem. Done. Find the arsonist responsible for a crime. Done. I half expected Fontaina to ask you to babysit her daughter on her next goddamn tour, and the worst of it? I would've expected you to accept!"

When I cringe at that, she nods. "Exactly."

"My bad, then."

She drags her knees to her chest and buries her head on them. "I remind you why I'm here, and all you've got is ‘my bad?' No apology?"

"I don't owe you an apology."

She leaps to her feet, and I half expect her to smack me upside the head with the cudgel, but I'm quicker than she is. In one quick movement, I've swept her off her feet and I'm carrying her back up to the house.

"Put me down! Put me fucking down! "

"No. I have to show you something."

"You can't show me while I'm on my own two damn feet?"

I don't say anything for long minutes while I carry her back to the house.

"Violet."

Sometimes the sound of my voice when I call her name is enough for her to settle down. She sighs, a little of the fight draining out of her. "What?"

"I asked you if you trusted me."

She nods, again trying to look away. Her face turns away from mine. "Yes."

"And do you remember what you said to me?"

We'd sat in bed, her curled up on my lap after target practice, a week after we found Skylar. "Do you trust me?" I'd asked her.

She blows out a breath. "I said there's no one in the world I trust more. But that was before."

"Before what?" We've almost reached the top of the hill. The bright beam of yellow light from the kitchen casts a welcoming glow on the path before me.

"Before I… knew you would take so long."

I almost laugh at that. I would, if she wasn't so damn serious.

"Do you trust me now?"

She thinks before she speaks, but it doesn't disappoint me. I like that she only speaks the truth. It gives strength and merit to her words.

"I do."

I wasn't ready to show her anything. I wanted more information before I let her in, because I don't want to give her false hope. But it's time.

We reach the back door. I settle her to the ground and take her by the hand.

"Then follow me."