Open Wounds: Abel and Hope: Love Against the Odds Page 9

  “What?” His delighted surprise made her giggle.

  “Yep, Gidae, but you would pronounce it, Gi-day. I changed it to its meaning, Hope, when I was picked on in school for its rarity.”

  He gently squeezed her hands, then flipped them over, tracing circles across her palms. Electricity raced up her spine. Hope’s body heated, and her head went fuzzy. His hands were so sensual, she could feel the tension building between them. And never once had she flinched or run from his touch.

  “Man, I hate kids sometimes,” he said. “They can be ignorant and hurtful with their words.”

  Yes, that was very true, but her childhood had been too amazing for her to hold on to a few memories of bullies. She shrugged. “That all seems so far in the past. I don’t think about it much now, but I just kept using Hope because it was easier than constantly correcting people’s pronunciations.” Gidae was a relatively easy Korean word, but most Americans butchered it horribly.

  A smile grew across his face as he admired her. “Wow, I didn’t even know you were Korean. Not that Koreans look a certain way. Call me crazy, but I’ve worked in a Korean BBQ up north for a few years and you look nothing like any of the ladies I worked for.” He laughed nervously.

  “How so?” Hope wasn’t in the least bit offended. Her mother was half-white and Korean, and her father was of mixed descent as well. She was a blend of many ethnicities, a melting pot of Asian and European descent, and she loved all her attributes. Her dark hair—so similar to her mother’s jet-black, silky tresses—and her pale skin, due more to her ethnicity than her recent bouts of lack of sun. Her skin reminded her of her father. He’d taught her German, promising her one day to take her to Germany, the home of his father’s ancestors. The memories were warm and welcomed, and too often ignored.

  She quirked a brow when his eyes met hers, scrutinizing her face. “What in the world are you looking for?” she asked. Was she blushing again? Now she cursed her pale skin and its betrayal of her emotions. She tried to pull her hands from his to hide her blush, but Abel refused to let her go.

  He smiled a purely decadent smile. “Baby, I’m not looking for anything. I’ve already found it.” As he spoke, his voice took on a reverent tone.

  The sound caused her heart to quicken, and her breath whooshed out of her. What in the hell was he saying? For her, it was different when it was just sex. Sex could just be sex, but when emotions were added into the mix, she wasn’t sure how to react. She’d come from a relationship in which lies and pain were the norm. Could she even try for something serious with Abel, or would her past halt her happiness and destroy him? No, she wouldn’t allow this to happen. She wouldn’t allow the shadow of the past to choke the future and destroy any optimism trying to take root and grow.

  The waiter gave her a moment of reprieve as he arrived with their food. Pulling her trembling hands away, Hope placed them in her lap. Her ragged breath came in pants, and for the first time in a long time, Hope enjoyed the anticipation of what would come next in the night. No fear of pain looming on the horizon, just more time spent with Abel.

  As if on autopilot, Hope picked up her knife and fork and cut into the steak. She watched him across from her as he took his first bite. Though she felt nerves buzzing a mile a minute, Hope knew she’d be safe with Abel, but there was a concern that she hadn’t yet spoken to him about. Unwilling to ruin the night, Hope kept the concern of her inheritance to herself. She didn’t want to talk about her parents’ deaths, nor did she want to admit to Abel that she’d lost everything her mother and father had left her to Mark.

  “So, tell me more about your life in New York.” He took another sip of water. “What was it like living in . . .” He trailed off because she hadn’t really told him much about her life in New York.

  Biting her lip, she searched for something interesting to say. “Things are changing in New York. Rents are rising, the original New Yorkers are moving out, and we have this new wave of wealthy people moving in, driving the cost of everything up.” She shrugged. “I honestly prefer it in Blackwater, but that’s just my opinion. I’m sure you could find a hundred people who’d disagree.”

  “Interesting. I didn’t know that, but I guess it all makes sense.” Abel dipped a steak fry into his ketchup. “Gentrification and all.” He popped the fry in his mouth and nodded thoughtfully.

  “Yeah. I mean, Thea’s place is in a great part of town and costs nearly four times the amount of the place you just rented. Space in New York is a commodity.” She placed her fork down and stole a sip of wine before continuing. “My friend had a place with a view of Central Park.”

  “Millionaire?” He quirked a brow and she nodded. “Damn, it sounds like you like to hobnob with the rich and famous.”

  13

  Abel

  Hope’s lace white dress crisscrossed over her perfect chest, leaving a square of pink skin visible to his view. Her beaded necklace fell between those beautiful breasts, the gold and white sparkling against her skin. He listened as she spoke about a close friend who was worth more money than he’d ever see in one lifetime.

  “She and I went to college together, but she didn’t lose her inheritance.”

  “Say that again?” he asked, a bit baffled by her words. Had Hope lost money?

  Her face reddened and she looked away. “Um, I was just saying that …” She waved a dismissive hand.

  “Don’t start lying now,” he said a bit harshly. The idea of losing the trust he’d gained with her angered him. He knew about her past, and the horrid way Mark had treated her, but there seemed to be more. And the thought she didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it hurt.

  She pushed her plate aside. Reaching out, she mimicked his earlier actions and took his hands. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I feel like a fool about what happened, and it’s hard to talk about it, so I never bring it up.”

  She gave a light shrug as if her secret didn’t matter, but Abel sensed the truth. Her trembling fingers, solemn gaze, and her inability to look him in the eyes said it all. He didn’t want to force it from her. Trust wasn’t taken it was given, but Abel feared the information she kept from him could be pertinent to keeping her safe.

  His silence grew as he waited, unsure as to what she was hiding and if he should try to cajole the truth from her for her own good.

  “Fine.” Taking in a deep breath, words spilled from her lips that utterly sent him through a loop. “I lost my inheritance to Mark when I married him. It wasn’t millions, but it was a sizable amount. Enough to keep me afloat until my medical career took off.”

  Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that. “And why are you ashamed?”

  “I signed it over to him willingly,” she whispered. “We were newly married and I believed in him and trusted him. He was my husband and he seemed extremely successful with managing money. I guess I had faith in his ability to handle our finances. I’m ashamed of being so stupid. Before that point, I had the means to leave him. I didn’t have to stay. But he’d convinced me that investing in him—in our marriage—showed him and his father that I was in it for the long haul. And why not? It was supposed to be a shared wealth, since we were married.”

  Right now, Abel wanted a beer … or several beers. Then he wanted to head up to New York and beat the shit out of the fool. “Don’t be ashamed of the mistakes of your past. Overcome them and then learn from them. It’s all we can all do, baby.” Her small smile lit up the entire room. Abel was sure the sun had burst through the darkened room and shone directly on her.

  “Did you just call me baby?”

  “Don’t change the subject.” He grinned as her smile widened even more. “How can we get your money back? You’ll need to start over once this is all done.” The idea of her having the money she needed after all this was over filled him with a sense of . . . what the fuck was he feeling? The thought of her moving on without him, possibly renting a home in—

  “I can’t get back what he doesn’t have.” Her v
oice was just above a whisper. Well, that was something. His appetite had long disappeared, his interest more than piqued. Abel gestured for her to continue. “He was an account manager to start, then he graduated from Yale and moved to New York to work as an investment banker, but the money wasn’t good enough for Mark.” Picking up her fork, Hope pushed around her mashed potatoes, her dark eyes flitting from her plate to him every so often.

  “Seems like a job that’d pay a hell of a lot of money.” Or at least that was what he thought. Abel brought in less than fifty a year and he was more than content, or he had made fifty-five before his stint in jail.

  “He made about seventy a year in 2011.”

  Abel tried to hide his surprise.

  “He even got twenty G’s as a signing bonus, but that wasn’t enough. Later, he became this hotshot hedge fund manager at the investment firm Bridgewater Associates and was making several million a year. But what I didn’t know, was right before he met me,” she stabbed a pea with her fork, “he was fired for stealing from the company.” She shook her head in disgust. “So, my money was just to keep up a front.”

  “If he’s broke, where is he getting the money to buy you these things and send them as threats?” Abel didn’t have anything worth much, but he knew expensive shit when he saw it. “I mean, that choker alone is probably worth at least—”

  “He bought me a Cartier eighteen carat yellow gold diamond pave bangle bracelets for forty thousand bucks once. He would spare no expense to decorate the parts of my body he crushed.”

  While his blood sizzled, and his fists clenched the fork he’d absently picked up, something in Hope’s voice reminded him of a woman who’d lost her way, but would crawl through fire and hell before she allowed anyone to hold her down again. He found that was one of the many things he loved about her.

  “But I healed. I’ll always heal.” She dazzled him with one of those smiles that made him melt. Distracted by the buzzing in his pants, Abel set aside the thought of making love to her and leaned back to get his phone.

  “Is that V?” she asked.

  “Yep. Mark hasn’t used his card today, but she’ll keep us updated.”

  “Okay, seems like this is working, yeah?”

  Abel thought it was working in more ways than one. He was not only drawing out the asshole who’d hurt Hope, he was falling for her—hard and fast.

  “In more ways than one,” he said.

  Hope bit her lip. “May I ask you something?” Her voice took on a serious tone, and she held his stare. Abel knew she was about to ask a doozy of a question, but he was ready. “I was wondering if you’d tell me what landed you in jail.”

  He had no problem telling her, had even meant to before now. “The woman who does my tech for me called me one night. Her younger sister was at a bar drunk with a man twice her age. She told me she needed my help getting her home. When I got there, her little sister was on the lap of this man.” Abel let out a mirthless laugh. “Shit, the man was huge. Long story short, I made her get in the car to leave and he didn’t like it.”

  Hope played with the cloth napkin in her lap, her eyes never once leaving his. “That was it? You saved a woman from her own stupid mistake and you ended up in jail? What about the other guy?” He could sense the rage just below the surface. Hope was pissed and trying to hide it and he loved it.

  “The other guy was in a coma for a month or so, so I’d say he got his due.” Abel ate more, realizing he’d nearly finished his meal. He glanced at her plate only to see the same.

  “A coma, huh?” She chuckled. “Don’t mess with a woman while ol’ Abel is around. You’ll pay.”

  “Damn straight.” He winked at her, but in reality, Abel knew he couldn’t just go around pounding heads into the ground. Hope’s foot made its way up his leg under the table. The long, white fabric of the tablecloth concealed her foot as it inched closer. Her gaze grew hooded and his cock hardened. The idea of any body part of hers near his dick shot pleasure up his spine. Abel reached under the table and caught her foot. She tugged and giggled until he released it.

  “Baby, and yes I called you baby.” He licked his lips, enjoying the deep flush coloring her pale flesh. “I think we should order dessert . . . to go.” Abel called for the check and before they both knew it they were both at the truck ready to leave.

  He placed Hope in the truck and laid the container of chocolate cake on her lap. Reaching over her, he gripped the seatbelt, but froze. Hope had leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his neck. Abel released the seatbelt and pulled back enough to see her face. Pink lips parted on a sigh, when his hand met her knee and moved upward, until the soft flesh of her inner thigh filled his hands.

  Abel grew hard. He needed her; desired to taste her flesh. His hand moved closer to the spot he wanted most, his middle finger brushing the soft panties she wore. Her sigh turned into a groan. Abel could not do this here, he could not let his guard down, just in case Edwin was near. That thought sobered him a bit and he moved away.

  “What?” A lust-filled haze clouded her eyes.

  He removed his hand and fixed her dress, smoothing it out over her legs. “Soon, baby. Real soon.” The heat between them sizzled and sparked, and Abel was ready to give her what she’d asked for . . . what she wanted from him, emotionally and physically. Again, he reached over, pulled the seatbelt over her, and buckled her in. His phone buzzed two distinctive sharp beats and stopped. He froze instantly, understanding what the rhythmic buzzing meant.

  Hope touched Abel’s arm. “Abel, you okay?”

  “Fuck.” He reared back and yanked the phone from his pocket. The screen lit up like a beacon in the night.

  “Hey, you are freaking me out.” Ignoring her for a moment, he shut the door and raced around to the driver’s side. He slid inside and started the truck. Hope’s panicked voice boomed around him . “Abel!”

  “It was a heat sensor alert,” he bit out, knowing shit was about to hit the fan.

  “Heat? What do you mean?”

  Hope’s concerned voice met his ears and he could only say one word to her. In a tone so grave it sent a chill up his spine, he said, “Fire.”

  14

  Hope

  Hope had expected her night to end in Abel’s passionate embrace, but instead, she stood hand in hand with him, gazing blankly at the smoke and ash—the remnants of what she used to call home. Abel spoke to an irate sheriff and a fire investigator about what was left of the contents in her home after the suspected arson. She hadn’t removed everything when Abel had taken her away; just enough to get by for a couple of weeks—few books, clothing, and the threats Mark had sent her. Everything else was reduced to ash that danced in the summer night’s breeze.

  Mark.

  Shit, that meant he was here, didn’t it? Or did he call Edwin and have him burn her home down? Had he thought she was inside? The panic began to rise in her throat, and oddly enough, Hope didn’t feel fear. Panic, anger, and shame . . . but not fear.

  “Miss?” The investigator tried to get her attention.

  “Yes, she has a place to stay tonight. You can take my number to get in touch with her.” Abel provided his number, then pulled her to the side, away from the growing crowd. She could hear them whispering, and she could feel the eyes as they bore into her, each of them wondering what trouble she’d brought to their small town. The sheriff walked around with an air of superiority, conversing with a few fire fighters. Abel had been able to keep the irate man away from her and she’d been grateful for that.

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a light rub. “We should leave. They don’t need us here anymore, and I don’t want you out in the open like this,” Abel warned. “We can call the owner later to figure this all out.”

  “Do you think he’s here?” A shiver stole over her and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Abel’s hands moved up and down her arms, as if to help ward off the chill. Her head felt full of cotton, and the back of her throat still felt raw from
the smoke she’d inhaled.

  Abel pulled her close, his head covertly swiveling around, surveying their surroundings. “Mark, no. But Edwin? I’m sure of it.”

  Hope wrapped her arms around Abel and placed her cheek against his chest. While her heart beat a rapid tattoo, Abel’s heart thumped steady and sure beneath her cheek. She pulled him closer, ordering her heart to mirror the sturdy thrum. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent and focused on the moment. Before her stood a man who’d fight for her, protect her, and hold her up as she fought to become the woman Mark thought to beat out of her. Taking in a deep breath, Hope pulled away.

  “This is what we wanted—to set Mark off,” she said. Abel slipped a hand down her arm and threaded his fingers between hers.

  “Yes.” He tugged her to the truck. “And now, more than ever, we have to be vigilant.”

  “The fire investigator believes arson was the cause of the fire, and we have proof that we weren’t here when it happened. So, we shouldn’t be suspects, right? He seemed convinced that we’d have a case against Mark if they can find evidence that it was him.”

  He opened the door for her. “Get in, baby.” Abel made his way around the truck and hopped in. “I’ll make sure no one follows us. We want to make sure we continue to have a safe house.” Starting the truck, he backed out and headed down the road. “I’ll peek in the rearview mirror and make sure no one is following us. I’ll drive around town for about an hour.” His eyes quickly drifted to the gas gauge and then back to the road.

  Hope slipped off her shoes and pulled her feet up. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she reached over and switched on the old radio. Static blared from the speakers. She turned the volume down and pressed the ivory push button. Country music blared in the small space and Hope groaned. “I hate country music.” She quickly switched to the next station. Smooth jazz.

  Abel tapped the steering wheel with his thumb and hummed along with the music.