I fell to my knees, watching her burn alive, gravity pinning me to the desert floor, forcing me to watch the result of my failure…
I shot up, gasping for hair.
The present world slowly came into view as the sounds of my nightmare faded into the night. As I took in my surroundings, blinking a few times, I realized something devastating.
I wasn’t in my apartment.
A whimper came from beside me. I stiffened, staring straight ahead at the thrifted Journey poster on the wall hanging behind a small television. The scent of jasmine flooded me then, and my gut twisted. I dropped my head, knowing exactly where I was and who I was with.
Slowly, I turned, my eyes falling to the woman beside me. Her back was to me, her purple sheets stopping just above the curve of her ass, and she had her arms wrapped around her pillow, her raven hair scattered across it. Just like it had been in my nightmare.
My jaw tightened, a lump growing in my throat as I stared at the tattooed Phoenix on her back. The watercolor style of the ink reminded me of the flames I should’ve died in years ago. My eyes trailed up the curve of her spine, pausing at her shoulder. I waited, watching it rise and fall with each breath she took. I looked down, finding my own chest bare, and if I squinted, I could make out the indentions her nails left on my biceps.
I looked back to the woman, unsure of what to do.
That was a lie.
I knew what I wanted to do.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, pull her close, fall back asleep. And when we woke up in the morning, I wanted to cook her breakfast.
I wanted to take care of her.
I’d wanted that since the day she was kidnapped and held hostage at the docks. It had been a year since that day, and to my knowledge, she avoided the docks at all costs. I lifted my hand, ready to brush her thick hair off her shoulder and replace it with my lips.
“Gordon.”
My blood turned to ice, my hand suspended in the air, my heart lurching.
She shifted, rolling to her back and moaned, “Gordon, please.”
“Pretend with me,” she whispered, her lips against mine as I pushed her against the door.
“That what you want, Temper?” I growled, pushing my hips against hers, the alcohol surging through me.
I blinked and ran my hand through my short hair, inhaling a deep breath. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back.
Pretend.
That’s all this was to her.
A lie.
Maybe, that’s all it should be, Mitchell.
I didn’t even look at her again as I quietly pulled the sheet back. It took me two minutes to find my clothes and thirty seconds after that to get dressed.
Then I was gone, leaving Margo to dream about a man who wasn’t me.
Chapter One
Margo
The low hum of my dying refrigerator was the only thing I could hear.
I didn’t know what time it was.
I just knew I was late for work and Cardinal, a.k.a. Carrie, would be texting me soon, checking in. She never failed to check in. Even when I didn’t want to talk or be around people. She always checked in. In a gentle way. Never demanding. Never overbearing. Just Cardinal.