Chapter Four

Ice had just turned and walked away from Vix that day, left her standing there. Ice knew the truth about Vix, which was that she hadn’t been with anyone except him for well over a year now. Oh, sure, the woman flirted with men and flaunted her hot little body – but that came with the territory when you waited for tips at a biker bar. When she’d told him that she was with him only, that he was all she wanted, he’d never doubted her for one second; she was honest with him about her sexual desire and her sexual history. She was also the hottest thing that he’d ever touched – she drove him crazy with want.

And then he had called her a whore, just thrown that absolute bullshit insult in her face. All because he was angry.

Despite his violent history, Ice didn’t much believe in having regrets, didn’t at all believe in wallowing in doubt. If he’d taken a life, it had been necessary, and that was that. He didn’t spend time agonizing over what he’d done and he didn’t lose sleep over any of it… but if he were being honest now, he bitterly and totally regretted saying what he did to Vix in that bar hallway. He felt deep shame about it, actually, and he was struggling with this new emotion; before now, Ice Johansson had thought that he was impervious to it.

This had all happened two weeks ago, and they hadn’t spoken since. Ice knew that he should have gone to Vix that same day and apologized. He should have made it right, and right away, but not only was he a colossal prick, he was also apparently a pathetic coward.

As he poured his fourth bucket-sized cup of coffee, he turned that word over and over in his mind. He doubted that anyone would ever think to call him a coward to his face, not unless they had a death wish, but Ice had to face the truth: he was afraid to talk to Vix, terrified to apologize. And why? Well…

“Don’t trust a woman. Not one, not ever. Don’t let one close to you. Never let one get anything over on you.”

Ice was good and worried about a lot of shit right now, and if he were being honest with himself – and what better time than when I’m sitting here alone and downing gallons of coffee like water? – he was freaked out at how much of a hold Vix had over him. He just couldn’t believe what she’d come to mean to him, despite his utter lack of interest in relationships; he didn’t understand just how she’d crawled into his mind and set up residence in there.

It was an unending source of confusion to Ice just why he’d taken his asshole father’s last words to him to heart, but he had. Fuck knows that he didn’t carry around anything else that the bastard had ever told him, but that advice about women had burrowed into his skin and just taken hold. But why?

Because it’s easier to completely avoid having feelings for a woman than admitting to them. Why be vulnerable? Why care about a woman? What has that ever gotten me, ever?

Nothing but a dead mother. That’s all.

“Fuck it,” he said aloud to the brilliant purple mountains. “Just fuck the whole fucking thing.”

The loud blaring of the phone alarm in his bedroom made him jump out of the chair in a single startled movement. In the kitchen, he confirmed the time as he poured out a fifth coffee: eight o’clock. Time to get his ass into the shower and into his pristine bespoke suit, and then drag himself up to Open Skies for one o’clock. He also had to paste on a less surly look than he usually wore, because today was all about a good thing, in the end. He’d been a complete dickhead to Vix, but he wasn’t going to upset Zoe on her wedding day. She and Scars had been through hell on earth, and this was a joyous occasion, one that they’d fought for and which they’d made happen, despite it all.

So, yay for love, right?

Yeah. Right.