Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,60
their future was theirs to decide because she believed in him. She’d trusted him with her body, and he’d beg that she do the same with her heart.
Crazy how one night could change everything. But it had. A clarity had stormed into his consciousness, wrought by his connection to Abby. Nothing was insurmountable as long as they could make each other feel as alive as they’d been last night. He’d live his life to make that happen.
Russell whipped the discarded board shorts off the ground, gained his feet, and pulled them on, halfway out of the cabana before he’d fully tied them. He saw the Yankees shirt, crumpled in the sand and decided to leave it there, liking the reminder of what had ultimately brought them together staying right where it was. When he reached the top of the staircase, his mind was already on what he’d make Abby for breakfast. She liked sweet stuff, like French toast—
“Mr. Hart.”
Russell came to a halt on the road, so immersed in thoughts of Abby, it took him a moment to place the man, standing inside the door of his running Mercedes. Mitchell, the lawyer. What the hell was he still doing here?
He must have asked the question out loud because the guy smirked. “You know why the Sullivan family pays me so well?” He drummed his fingers on the car’s roof. “I make sure problems don’t present themselves. And when they do, I make them go away. I’m really fucking good at it, too.”
Showing no outward reaction, Russell couldn’t help being surprised at the expletive coming from the polished lawyer. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. “Is there a reason you think I give a shit?”
“There’s a good reason for everything I say and do.”
Russell almost looked up, positive he would see an axe materialize in the air. Intuition was like spikes flowing through his veins. He glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder toward the house, praying he’d see Abby, but there was no one. Jesus, where had she gone? “If what you have to say is so important, get to it.”
The look that crossed the lawyer’s face said he was enjoying this. “Ran into Abby a few minutes ago.” With those words, Russell’s dread shifted and escalated into rage. She’d gone to that beach last night dressed in nothing but a swimsuit. A swimsuit he’d seen on the floor of the cabana. Meaning this fucker had seen her in . . . what? The possibilities made his eyes burn.
Russell struggled for a modicum of composure, but the effort was useless. “If you even spoke to her, I’d be worried.”
“I did. Speak to her.” A too-long pause ensued. “You bruise up a lot of girls, Hart?”
He was instantly winded, unable to catch a breath. That axe above him didn’t just drop, it hacked away at him. Hacked, hacked, hacked, severing internal organs without mercy. Somehow, the guy knew his last name, but it was only a dim realization, swallowed up in the earlier statement. “What . . . what are you talking about?”
“Look, buddy.” Mitchell held up both hands, like they could have an honest exchange after the bomb he’d just dropped on Russell’s very existence. “I’m here as the fixer. As understandably upset as she was, Abby obviously needs one—”
“She was upset?” The words fell out of Russell’s mouth and splintered into fragments on the ground, alongside his heart. Had he been wrong about the connection . . . the understanding between them? She’d enjoyed what they’d done, hadn’t she? He wracked his mind, attempting to remember what she’d said in the darkness, before they fell asleep. We have a lot to talk about, don’t we? Christ, that could mean anything. Images assaulted him. Abby’s jaw in his grip. Her hands imprisoned over her head. The way he’d pulled out and bathed her in his release.
His knees felt weak with the need to give out. Was there a man of sound mind on this planet that would do those things to a virgin? No. No . . . he’d done it all wrong. He’d hurt her. Hurt Abby. God, oh God, oh God.
“Where did she go?” Russell managed.
“Probably somewhere you can’t hurt her again.” Mitchell rounded the car at a casual pace, reaching into his pocket and removing a wallet. “And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”
Russell felt the horror down to his toes when the man presented him with a fist full of what looked like hundred-dollar