CHAPTER 5 — OF THREATS AND NAUSEA

NOEL

I should be at home sitting in my chamber and icing my wounded thigh, pretending that my career isn’t hanging by a thread the width of a piece of dental floss.

Instead, I am sitting in the darkest corner of a wound down bar. In my hands is a glass of whiskey that cost less than my socks.

Somewhere to my right, is the sister of my arch nemesis who is busy assassinating my character to a guy that looks like he hasn’t showered in decades.

“There is no loophole for being a bitch!” Anahera yells, her voice cutting through the hum of the bar.

I take a slow sip of the burning liquid. Bitch. Nice. Now add that to the list of pompous, ugly, arrogant.

She’s really quite the resume for me.

I watch her over the rim of my glass as she vibrates. Her hands are flying around, punctuating her sentences with enough force to send her partner flying.

She looks frantic and beautiful and completely unhinged. Would I be mad if I say how much I like it?

I shouldn’t be here. I came to take the edge off after she stormed out of my house this morning. And I needed to not be in a space that smells floral and maddeningly clean.

So I came here. And of all the gin joints in all the town, she walks into mine.

“I think you should both meet and talk about it,” the drunk guy slurs, sway slightly on his stool. “Clear things up. In that way, you keep your job and he keeps his legs. Win-win.”

I snort. The guy even makes more sense than she does.

Then, Anahera sighs heavily. She looks helpless in a way that makes me want to feel pity.

“God! The way he kissed me felt so unreal,” she moans, burying her face in her hands.

The whiskey stops halfway down my throat, and I freeze.

Unreal. The kiss.

“I just want to grab him by the shirt and… and…make that moment last so I can get him out of my system. Is that right?”

Instant heat flares in my chest but it’s not anger. It’s something much more dangerous.

She wants to get me out of her system? What the hell does she think I am? Some virus? Did she think kissing me again is the cure?

I set the glass down with a hard thump.

The drunk guy blinks then and his eyes drift past her shoulder, locking onto me. He squints like I’m a physics equation he’s trying to solve.

“Um, no offense soul sis,” he mumbles. “Maybe I’m high off my mind but this Adonis of a man has been staring at you since you got here and I don’t think it’s for the right reason.”

Adonis? I’ll take it.

“W-what?” Anahera stammers, turning her head.

The moment our eyes lock, color drains from her face so fast I think she might pass out right there. Her eyes feel with a panic that is deeply, satisfyingly pure.

She sees that I’ve heard every word. At least that is what her expression screams.

Her mouth moves, “fuck me.”

She doesn’t say it out loud but I hear it. She scrambles off the stool like her ass is on fire, grabbing her bag with fumbling fingers. She doesn’t even say goodbye to her drinking buddy. She just turns and bolts toward the exit.

“Oh, no. you don’t get to run away this time, Anahera,” I mutter under my breath.

Tossing a bill onto the table, I shoot up to my feet. A sharp spike of pain shoots up the muscles in my inner thigh which I ignore. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

The adrenaline of the chase is a much better painkiller. I follow her out into the night where it is freezing my balls out. I see her car under the flickering orange glow of a streetlamp.

Frantically, she jams her key into the lock and mutters curses that would make even a sailor blush.

“Open! Open, you useless piece of metal!” she hisses.

I slow my pace, enjoying the view of her struggling.

Terrified? Good, she should be.

I stop right behind her just as the lock finally clicks.

She grabs the handle but I slam my hand against the door to hold it shut. The thrill that goes through me at the sight of her discomfort pleases me to no end.

She gasps, spinning around. I was right. She is scared.

“Going somewhere?”

She looks up at me with wide eyes. “You followed me!” her breath smells of cheap tequila.

“I walked out of a bar,” I correct her, leaning in until I’m sure I’m invading her personal space. “You just happened to be fleeing the scene of the crime.”

“What crime?” she squeaks. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Slander? Defamation? Conspiring with a bum to assault a patient? Divulging patient information?” I tick them off on my fingers. “I heard your little plan, Hera. You want to grab me by the shirt and kiss me to get me out of your system?”

Her face flames red. “I was drunk! I am drunk! It was just…metaphors! Besides you only have a face relatives can love.”

“Metaphors,” I repeat. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Get away from me, Noel,” she snaps, trying to regain some semblance of that fiery attitude she had this morning. She pushes against my chest. “I quit. I’m done. I’m calling Tiare in the morning and telling her I can’t work with you because you’re a…a stalker!”

My voice hardens. “You are not quitting.”

“Watch me!”

“If you quit, I will destroy you.” The humor in my voice bleeds out completely.

She freezes with her hands still pressed against my coat. “What?”

“I have cameras, Anahera. My penthouse is wired with high-definition audio and video. I have a recording of you wishing physical harm on a patient. I have you calling me ugly and hoping I stay crippled.”

It’s a half-lie. I have security cameras, sure.

Did they pick up her audio perfectly? Maybe. Maybe not. But she doesn’t need to know that.

Her mouth drops open in shock.

“If you walk away,” I continue, leaning down so my face is inches from hers, “I will send that footage to the licensing board. I will sue your agency for breach of contract and emotional distress. I will make sure you never touch a patient again. You’ll be lucky if you can get a job walking dogs.”

“You’re bluffing,” she whispers.

I tilt my head. “Try me. I’m Noel Rautio. I don’t lose and I definitely don’t let the sister of Dominik whatever-his-last-name is dictate my recovery.”

“You are evil,” she seethes, forcing herself to focus.

“Wrong. I am motivated. Here is the deal; you show up tomorrow and do your job. You keep your license and I keep my mouth shut. We finish the twelve days. You disappear after and I go back to my games fully mended.”

Tears spring to her eyes. “I hate you.”

“I don’t care about you or your feelings, Hera. I don’t care where you are or who you talk to. The only thing that binds us together is this injury.”

She’s trapped and she knows it, staring at me with so much emotions swirling in her eyes. I can see the wheels spinning in her tequila-soaked brain. Then, something shifts in her eyes.

The fear recedes and in its place is a sudden boldness. The glaze of intoxication has been pushed to the side. She lets out a little laugh.

“You don’t care huh?” she slurs slightly. She steps away from the car and sways toward me.

“Anahera?” I frown, not liking the look on her face.

She reaches up and grabs the lapels of my coat with a surprisingly strong grip. She forces me to hunch over so our faces are level.

Her eyes drop to my lips. “You say you don’t care, yet you followed me. You’re standing here in the freezing cold after you refused to let me go. Admit it, Noel, you are obsessed with me.”

My breath stutters. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” She licks her lips and I track her movement with a swallow. “You heard me say I wanted to kiss you. Is that why you’re here? You want to help me get it out of my system?”

My heart begins to hammer against my ribs. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have super hearing. I’m beginning to think cornering her at the parking lot was a terrible idea.

For one, the hunter has become the hunted.

Two: she’s drunk, my employee and my enemy’s little sister. The paparazzi could be hiding somewhere at any minute now but God help me, I want her to do it.

“Do it then,” I challenge as my voice drops to a growl. “Prove me wrong.”

She gives me a crooked, sleepy, beautiful smile then pulls me closer. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the contact of her lush lips. Waiting for that soft peppermint tasting mouth to hit mine again.

We both lean in. The next sound is that of something wet and unmistakable.

My eyes snap open just in time to feel a warm, heavy wave of liquid splash against my chest and my neck, and–Oh God–my chin.

“Oh my god,” I choke, releasing the car door and stumbling back.

She heaves again, splattering some more on my boots before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oops…Did we win?”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head and before she crumples to the ground like a puppet with no strings, I lunge for her.

“Anahera! You have got to be kidding me,” I grumble to the universe.

She’s dead weight in my arms. I stand there in the middle of the parking lot, covered in tequila-vomit. That’s when it dawns on me that I can’t leave her here. I don’t even know where she lives.

She mumbles something in her sleep and nestles closer into the mess she made. I look down at her peaceful face and I decide I like her a lot better with her mouth shut.

Yanking myself back to the present, I realize that the only option available to me is parked seven cars across, the key sitting in my soiled breast pocket.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”