Open Wounds: Abel and Hope: Love Against the Odds Page 4

  Abel pushed away from the wall and made his way to her couch. Sitting down, his long legs bunched uncomfortably between the coffee table and the couch. Hope rushed over and pulled the table away, giving his legs some room. The movement knocked over her glass, and her tea spilled all over the table. Getting to her knees, Hope wiped up the spill.

  “We don’t have much choice in the matter. You are hard up for cash, so we’ll need to take advantage of the offerings we have.” He leaned forward to help clean up the mess, but Hope shoed his hands away.

  Hope blushed, never having been so embarrassed in her life. Having lived in among the upper echelons of New York, she got used to a certain type of lifestyle. With the money her parents left her, Hope would have been set for years to come … until Mark got his hands on it, that is.

  Reaching out, Abel placed a hand atop hers, and that was when she noticed she was trembling. “Don’t worry. I have cash I can get to, and it’s more than enough to help us out for the time being. It’s a rainy-day fund, and though I hoped I would never have to use it,” he looked out the window to the lightning illuminating the sky, “it looks like that rainy day is here.”

  ***

  Once Thea and Lex dropped off the groceries, Abel started cooking. Hope’s mouth watered as scents wafted through the kitchen and met her nose. If the aroma from whatever was brewing on the stove was any indication, that man could cook.

  Hope always watched her figure while married to Mark. All it took was one extra pound, and he would make sure her life was even more of a living hell than it already was. Every night, he forced her onto the scale, and every night, he would find something about her body that needed to change. Your thighs shouldn’t meet in the middle. It’s disgusting. Hope’s stomach twisted in fear at the thought of placing food in her mouth. If you cared about the way you looked, this wouldn’t be necessary.

  Mark’s voice was engrained in her head, and the memories of his degradation were the only reason she hadn’t gorged herself the second she was free. Because in the back of her mind, she would never truly be free of Mark. Perhaps, one day, her physical wounds would heal, but her soul would be forever scarred.

  “No excuses,” Abel muttered as he opened a steaming pot and stirred.

  His comment pulled her from her memories. She glanced up. “Excuse me?”

  Lifting a container of spices, Abel shook a liberal amount into the pot. “You’re going to eat, and then you’re going to sleep a full eight hours tonight.” Stirring the sauce, he added, “No excuses.”

  Hope prickled at the demand in his tone. “I’m not a five year old.”

  “No excuses.” He hadn’t even looked up, just stood there stirring, while she silently fumed.

  She’d had enough of men telling her what to do. Taking in a deep breath with the intention of telling him just that, she paused. Abel had leaned down and opened the oven door. The scent of marinara sauce, baked cheeses, seasoned meat, and Italian seasoning assaulted her senses, and she could do nothing but stare in wonderment at the man in her kitchen.

  “You’re underweight and have bags under your eyes.”

  Though his words stung, Hope didn’t even flinch at his observation. The aroma coming from the oven brought her to her feet, and she moved to stand inches from him. It wasn’t as if she’d never smelled decent food before; it had just been a long time since she’d contemplated eating a delicious meal without the fear of gaining an ounce.

  “It’s hard to eat healthy when you are on the run.” The excuse flew out of her mouth, as a force of habit.

  Abel slightly lifted a brow, letting her know he didn’t believe her. “That changes tonight.” He turned his body to the side, making room for her to sidle up next to him. “For tonight, we’ll be dining on lasagna, Caesar salad, and garlic bread.” Gently, he took hold of her hand, his warmth invading her cold palm the second he touched her. Guiding her hand to the wooden spoon, he said, “Stir.” Then he moved away from the oven and began to prepare the bread.

  Hope stirred the sauce, light-headed from Abel’s magnetic touch. Of course, she was already riding on cloud nine at the thought of a full belly and a full night’s rest. But while she was hesitant to believe she would be able to sleep through the night, Hope prayed Abel’s presence would trick her mind into believing she was safe—at least for now.

  “Why are you making this sauce, if the lasagna is already in the oven?”

  Abel didn’t glance up from smearing butter on the rolls as he spoke. “That is spaghetti sauce. We’ll make a lot of it, divide it up into containers, then freeze it.” He sprinkled some garlic powder onto the buttered rolls. “Can you turn the heat down under the sauce? We’ll need to let it simmer for another twenty minutes. Then pull the lasagna out of the oven, please. Bread comes out in ten minutes.”

  Hope did as she was told. Leaning her face over the cheesy meal, she inhaled. “Jesus, this smells like five pounds.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but she couldn’t take them back. She turned to Abel to apologize for her crudeness, but instead of meeting angry eyes, she found his soft gaze.

  “Listen to me.” He moved to her, his gait sure and steady. “You’re beautiful as is.” His words knocked her a bit off kilter. She opened her mouth to disagree, but Abel softly placed a finger over her lips to hush her. “When I make comments about your weight, it’s not because you aren’t attractive. It’s because I understand the stress your body is under. I want you strong and alert—always. After all this is said and done, you can go ahead and drop the pounds again, if that’s what you want.

  “But never confuse me with Mark. I am not him. Whatever comments he made, or whatever way he made you feel about your body, starts and stops with him. I am not that man, and I never will be. We just need to get you healthy again.”

  Hope was unsure of what to say. No one had called her beautiful in years. Mark had only ever complimented her when they were dating, and if another man so much as glanced at her, Mark would remind her that her thighs touched and men didn’t like that. Hope knew she wasn’t ugly, but she didn’t feel beautiful; she hadn’t for some time now. To hear Abel say it with such sincerity, while looking nowhere but in her eyes, made her feel good.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Can you keep an eye on the bread while I’m in there?” He pulled away, as if his words hadn’t just rocked her world.

  Hope nodded, feeling once again like a bobblehead.

  It felt like hours—though it was less than twenty minutes—until Abel finished his shower. He opened the door, and a puffy cloud of steam followed him out of the bathroom. Hope almost fell off the couch when she saw he was shirtless. His tanned skin and toned muscles caused her mouth to go dry. That’s when Hope thought back to Thea’s words about finding a man, and wished that Abel was there for any reason other than as her bodyguard.

  Abel lifted the shirt in his hand and pulled it down over his head, covering the glorious view of his chest. He headed to the tiny fridge to pull out the salad. Abel glanced over to Hope, who sat on the couch with her legs pulled up under her butt, book in hand, and glasses hovering on the edge of her nose.

  “How many times have you read that book?” he asked, throwing her a devastatingly sexy smile.

  Taking off her glasses she used them as a bookmark. Taking in the worn edges and faded cover, she also smiled. “In the last few months? Probably five times.” It was an excellent book. And when she’d pulled it from the bookshelf, she’d only meant to find something to keep her mind off Mark, never fully expecting to enjoy the book.

  Abel paused his task of pulling plates from the cabinets. “Seriously? What’s it about.”

  The book had been her rock for the past few weeks, and the storyline—while out-of-this-world nonrealistic—was something she yearned to experience.

  Eager to not sound like a hopeless romantic, she said, “It’s about finding love where you least expect it.” She looked down at the book, just as Abel glanced up at her.
“There’s this man in Virginia, who gets a call from a detective telling him his wife has been arrested for murder in Washington, over two thousand miles away from home. The only problem is, his wife is standing right in front of him.” As she continued to explain the story, Abel dished up their plates. “So, the man reveals to the cop that he has the wrong number; he has no clue who this woman called Claire Deveraux could be. Then he hangs up.”

  “Hangs up?” Abel’s brow lifted. “He just hangs up?”

  “Yep.” Hope stood and made her way to the kitchen to help Abel carry the plates and cups into the living room. When he handed her the plate with the most food on it, she nearly pushed it back into his hands, but the stern expression on his face told her he wouldn’t have it. She made her way back to the couch and settled into her seat.

  “So, I am a bit confused,” he said, sitting in her side chair. Plate in hand, he put a fork full of food into his mouth and chewed until it was gone. “A guy calls him from Washington, tells him his wife has been arrested for murder, and all the husband does is hang up? He wasn’t curious as to why he got the call or who gave the detective his number?” Hope peered up at him from her plate. “Eat,” he demanded.

  Lifting her fork, she jabbed it into a tomato mixed in with her salad. “I haven’t gotten to the good part yet.” She popped it in her mouth.

  “Tell me later. I’d prefer if you ate now, with no distractions,” he suggested.

  Upon the first bite of his lasagna, Hope decided she would tell him later. The food was so delicious, she groaned in pleasure. It was so damned cheesy that if she’d been standing, her knees would have buckled. Closing her eyes, Hope savored every bite. How did this man learn to cook so amazingly?

  6

  Abel

  He watched Hope eat like she’d been starving. What in the hell had her husband said or done to convince her she needed to look like a bag of bones? When he’d first entered her place, he noticed she wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He’d thought it was to possibly hide scars or bruises, but now, Abel considered the possibility that her body was unable to fight the chill in the air. And there was a chill; the AC seemed to pump out freezing air, even though the temp had fallen due to the storm outside. He’d seen the small unit above the window and planned to check it out after dinner.

  Another moan escaped Hope’s lips and his dick jumped. Shit, he was not supposed to lust after a client. Not only was it unprofessional, but it was flat-out stupid. She was in a vulnerable state and didn’t need him eyeballing her tiny, heart-shaped lips.

  Hope moaned around the last bite. “Jesus, Abel.”

  Lost in his inappropriate thoughts, he could only muster a grunt in response. Abel wanted to adjust his cock, as it was uncomfortably bunched up in his jeans. Pulling his plate back, he used it to hide his erection.

  Hope’s eyes popped open. “This is the best meal I’ve had in years.”

  Glancing at her plate, he noticed it was empty, and she looked like she wanted to lick it clean. Abel made a trip into the small kitchenette. Placing his plate on the counter, he lifted the pan of food and brought it into the living room, along with a spatula. Without asking, Abel scooped a second helping of lasagna onto her plate. To his surprise, Hope didn’t protest, but greedily started eating.

  He smiled inwardly. Every woman he’d ever dated always rejected his homemade pasta dishes. One had even told him the body couldn’t differentiate between pasta, rice, or a cupcake. Abel had just served her a salad and waited for the date to be over.

  While Hope ate, he walked to the door where Lex had left his bag of supplies. Abel told Hope that they would stay in Thea and Lex’s house for the two weeks that they were gone, but he soon developed a better idea. He was going to start calling in old favors. Lex was paying him well and Abel decided that renting a small place just outside of town would be feasible. To his understanding, Hope would continue to work at the clinic, though he knew this was something that placed her in danger. But Lex had conveyed this was a deal breaker for Hope. She wouldn’t agree to a bodyguard if she was forced to quit the clinic.

  Abel commended her for wanting to support Thea while she was gone, but he couldn’t help but want to shake the woman and remind her about the threat Mark posed. At the same time, he wasn’t one to hide forever either. Hope’s life needed to continue, and Abel was here to make sure that happened without incident.

  Pulling the equipment out of his bag, he called over his shoulder, “What’s your schedule like this week?”

  “Five twelve-hour days, then Monday and Tuesday off,” she answered.

  Abel smiled when he heard the fork scraping the plate. He would have to talk to Thea about the next few days. He needed time to formulate a plan, check out the work area, and get a few guys to track Mark’s whereabouts. The last part would be hard since he didn’t work for A2 Security anymore, but he was sure he had a few favors in the bag there, too. Pulling a motion sensor from the duffel, Abel stood and headed to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Hope asked the second his hand touched the doorknob.

  Abel turned back to her. “I’m going to set this motion sensor up outside. You want to watch?” Her eyes darted to the window, no doubt eyeing the rain still falling. “I just need to go to the covered porch area. No need to get wet.”

  “Yeah, just let me get my shoes.” Hope shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops.

  He eyed her little toes as she shoved on the flip-flops. “No, you should wear tennis shoes.”

  “Why?” she asked, slipping out of the bright yellow flip-flops and donning a pair of Nikes.

  Opening the door, he gestured for her to stay behind him. “Just in case you ever have to run.” He stepped out into the cool night air. Rain still fell from the sky and lightning struck somewhere off in the distance. He didn’t think they had anything to worry about, but better safe than sorry.

  “Oh.” Hope wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Have you ever tried to run in wet flip-flops?” Shaking her head, she followed him out the door. “Good, because it’s damn near impossible.” Scanning the area, Abel tipped his chin to the biker perched on his bike surveying the area. It’d been a steep price to pay for one night’s service, but Abel thought it well worth it.

  “How long is he staying?”

  Abel turned at the sound of her voice. The overhead light illuminated her face in a harsh, artificial glow, yet somehow still showcased her beauty. “He’s here until tomorrow morning.” Abel set up his inconspicuous surveillance and ran the wire through the door. “I am going to call a friend and move us to a different location.” He side-stepped Hope, and moved to continue threading the wire, but he didn’t miss the gleam in her eye. She was relieved that she wouldn’t lead Mark to Thea and Lex’s home.

  “Good, but can I afford that?” She nibbled her bottom lip.

  Abel smiled. “I can, and that’s all that matters.” Though he needed to be cautious with his money, he couldn’t imagine staying in this little efficiency with Hope now that Mark knew her whereabouts.

  She cast him a wary glance. “I don’t know. I mean, this place is only a hundred bucks a week, and that’s inclusive.”

  “Inclusive because it includes a husband who threatened your life and knows your whereabouts? Jesus. Stop trying to save a buck and let me worry about helping you save your life.” Abel hadn’t meant to sound like a dick, but he also didn’t desire to have the money discussion every time he intended to do something. If he needed cash from her, then he would bring it up. But since he planned on staying in the new place after this job was done, while taking on more private security jobs, it was a non-issue.

  Hope pushed passed him and slammed the door behind her.

  “Fuckin’ shit,” Abel muttered under his breath. Making fast work of setting up the system, he headed back inside. Glancing around, he found she was in the bathroom. Abel shut the front door and double checked each lock. Heading to
the bathroom door, he noted she’d cleaned up the dishes and put everything away.

  With a weary sigh, he knocked on the door. “Hope?” Her silence told him everything he needed to know. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Her safety was his priority. Stressing about funds wasn’t something he wanted her to do. “Hope, just listen to me.” He pressed his forehead against the door. “Maybe I was a bit insensitive back there, but you have to understand something—” The door flew open and Abel caught himself. Stepping back, he watched as Hope moved past him wearing a long sleep shirt and a pair of long johns.

  Lifting her hair, she threw it into a messy bun. “Don’t worry about it.” Her tone implied he sure as hell should be worried about it.

  How had this shit happened? How had he somehow entered the world of this passive aggressive shit women pulled when a man made any kind of sense in an argument.

  In a flat voice she said, “It’s fine.”

  He scoffed. “Is it?”

  She nodded and pulled back the covers to the bed. “Yup.” Abel tried to meet her eyes, as she readied herself for bed. Avoiding his gaze, Hope slid under the covers, reached for the little lamp above the bed, and clicked it off.

  He shook his head and quietly made his way back to the living area to grab more surveillance cameras and motion sensors. Even though he and Hope weren’t staying here, Abel wanted to keep an eye on the place while they were gone.

  While he didn’t believe Mark was in town, the fact remained, someone was working for Mark in the stalking of Hope—stealing her sense of security and independence. He froze. Had he become so dense as to not understand how his earlier words had stripped away even more of her independence? He glanced at her sleeping frame, realizing he needed to formulate a heartfelt apology before speaking—words were really all he had to give, but she deserved more.

  “I’m not a victim,” she murmured so softly, Abel thought she was sleep-talking. Then she added, “I don’t want you to see me as a victim.”