His Passion by Ava Claire Read Free Book Online Page A

void of humor, light, or joy. It ripped its way from my lips and if Leila's crestfallen face was any indication, it sounded as terrifying as it felt.
    She leaned in and pressed her lips against my cheek, then whispered her way to my ear. “I promise.”
    I never knew that a person could smell like words and feelings and emotions, but I was hit with all of the above as I lingered in her touch. I felt safe. Surrounded by love. I felt hope.
    So I told her.
    “We went to the restaurant to meet with Lars and then the-”
    “Son of a BITCH !”
    My jaw dropped at the outburst. Leila's eyes rounded with her own shock, the screech like a bomb going off in the silence. It would have been nothing, meant nothing if it was Brittany.
    But the voice that clawed its way from the bathroom was Cole's voice.
    Leila and I both leapt to our feet, the depressingly familiar haze of adrenaline and unease giving me an out of body experience. This was someone else's life. Someone else's nightmare.
    I got halfway to the door that separated the sitting room from the living quarters when I realized Leila wasn't beside me. She was behind me, glued to the couch.
    The look on her face was filled with a terror that made the blood freeze in my veins. She opened her mouth, then decided against it, shrinking back into the cushion and shaking her head.
    I understood.
    She couldn't deal with it. With Brittany. With whatever terrible thing she'd probably done to my brother.
    “I'll be right back,” I assured her firmly. Before I lost my own edge, I stormed through the door, following the glow of the bathroom. My head told me to wait, to grab a weapon—or better yet, to turn around, sweep up my wife and get as far away from Cole and Brittany as we could get. I shut it all down as I threw open the door and prepared myself.
    Did Brittany find something sharp and reopen the wound at Cole's neck?
    Did she turn the sharpened edge on herself?
    I imagined blood streaked on every surface, Cole cradling his sister's dying body. By the time my eyes focused and there was nothing awry, my heart had already stopped beating. I had to take a few moments to breathe, to erase the picture my mind painted and accept the reality before me.
    Brittany was huddled near the shower, burying herself in a robe, her face clean of makeup but still covered in the marks from her life in Eichmann's hell. Cole was at the sink, both of his hands gripping the thing like it was taking every ounce of self control not to rip it from the wall. When he let out another chilling howl, worry ghosted down my spine.
    Brittany finally noticed me, tugging her robe tighter. “Can I help you?”
    She would be no help at all, so I turned to Cole instead. “What's going on here?”
    He hung his head, shaking it slowly like he'd just received the kind of news that changed a person's life forever. “How could she? What kind of monster...” He balled his fist and slammed it into the counter.
    Brittany gasped and jerked toward him, pulling on him. “Stop it! It's over now. I'm out and-”
    “It is not over,” Cole snapped. “It's tattooed on your fucking skin!”
    This was all about some tattoo? “You've gotta be kidding me.” I turned to go. I wanted out of this mess. Brittany was free, and now, so were me and Leila. “You two are on your o-”
    “Show him the tattoo, Brittany. Show him who paid Eichmann to take you.”
    I stopped. My interest was piqued, but I didn’t turn back to them. I wasn’t sure how that information was monumental enough to make him scream bloody murder.
    Brittany made another appeal, dropping the hard ass role. “Cole-”
    “SHOW HIM!”
    I whirled back to them, for a moment worrying that Cole had snapped and would do God knows what to the girl if she didn't comply.
    “Maybe you should show me, Brittany,” I said tightly, watching my brother like he was a cornered animal that could bite at any moment. “Then we can all get out of here and get on with our lives.” I