Surrender To Me

WREN

I LOCKED up the shop and let out a breath. Today had been hectic, but not as hectic as my thoughts had been. After leaving Bane’s apartment this morning, I’d returned to my place to collect a shirt I’d forgotten to pack with Andy as an escort. He’d checked things out for me, reassuring me the place was as secure as it ever was.

“Ms. Montana.”

I looked around when I heard my name. I glanced at the car pulling up at the curb.

“Andy,” I said with a smile.

“Mr. Rivera wanted me to take you home and check things out for you.” Opening the rear door of the town car, he invited me to get in.

I hesitated, looking down at my fur-covered shirt. “I’m going to get hair everywhere.”

“I’ll have the interior cleaned after I drop you off.”

With a bob of my head, I slid onto the leather seats and let out a groan of relief-I’d been on my feet all day. The ride back to mine was very short, and I would’ve argued that fact if it weren’t for Bane’s words to me before I left him after our shower.

Andy pulled up to the curb and opened the door for me. “Thank you,” I said, staring up at the building.

“Are you ready, Ms. Montana?”

I nodded, and we walked inside. I kept my eyes moving, my senses on high alert. I was still jumpy after last time, but having Andy here helped. I’d even taken my gun with me to work today, something which I’d never done before. I’d found the dogs were unsettled if they could scent the oil and gunpowder.

Andy opened my apartment door, motioning me to stay behind while he did the sweep. A few moments later, he was back. “All clear, Ms. Montana.”

“Please, call me Wren.”

“Wren,” he corrected. “Mr. Rivera has asked that I stay outside on watch tonight. This is my number.” He handed me a card. “Call me if you need me.”

He strode away, his steps confident and commanding, and I retreated into my apartment. Walking around, I made sure all the windows were locked, finding that the broken catch had been repaired, then triple-checked the front door locks. Once I was confident nobody was getting in without my knowing about it, I stripped out of my shirt and leggings, kicking my panties off and dumping my bra on top as I walked into the bathroom to start the shower. I shut the door behind me, not willing to let all that amazing steam disappear.

When the water was hot, I stepped inside and let out a groan of relief. Taking my time, I washed my hair, putting in a treatment while I shaved my legs. After I washed everything out, I stood under the spray for what must have been fifteen minutes, letting the spray pound at the muscles of my shoulders and neck.

When I stepped from the shower stall, I wrapped one towel around my head and the other around my body. I took a minute to look at myself in the mirror. For the first time in what felt like forever, I looked moderately well-rested.

I reached for the handle of the door but recoiled when a warning flashed in my brain. Looking down, I tried to figure out why my hand was red and beginning to blister. I looked back to the door and then noticed the smoke creeping in underneath the bottom of it. Snatching the hand towel from the side of the basin, I turned the knob on the bathroom door…

“Fuck!”

My apartment was on fire. Not just a small little kitchen fire but blazing. The heat and smoke assaulted my senses right away, and I recoiled as I turned away from the living room, slowly catching on fire. Smoke and flames filled the hallway down to my bedroom and the kitchen. The only part of my apartment that wasn’t fully ablaze was the living room.

Ducking back into the bathroom, I grabbed the extra towel hanging on the back of the door and soaked it, along with the other one around my body, in the shower. Once it was dripping wet, I wrapped one around my chest and the other over my shoulders.

The heavy terry cloth felt suffocating, but it would save my life. Stepping back out into the hall, I shielded my face from the ferocious flames that had grown in the time I was wetting the towels, the glowing red beast feeding off all my shitty old furniture, consuming it and looking for more. I took one step toward the living room, the floor beneath me creaking with the weight. Panicked, I looked down. How long had the fire been burning? And what about the rest of the people in my building?

Looking up, I focused on where I wanted to be. I needed to get over to the living room window so I could get down the fire escape. Coughing, I drew the towel over my nose and began to run. I was halfway through the room when I tripped and fell, hitting my head on the edge of the coffee table. The smell of blood flooded my nose, warring with the smell of smoke. Around me, the air seemed to crackle, the bones of the building groaning around me as the flames consumed it. Racked with coughs, I got onto my hands and knees, clutching at the towel over my shoulders as I crawled toward the window, but no matter how much I moved, I hardly seemed to advance.

Collapsing onto the floor, I peered up at the window, almost tasting the fresh air. There was a slow groan and then a crack.

And then the darkness took me.

I WOKE to the sound of beeping-an incessant beeping that seems to be in time with my heart. The violent cough that forced its way out of my body took me by surprise. It led to a fit of coughs that made my already sore throat raw.

“Drink this,” a man said gently, shoving a straw near my mouth. I gulped down the cool water I was offered, my eyes finally focusing on the hand holding the bottle. Bane studied me with heart-crushing concern, the seriousness on his face making my already strained heart thump faster. When I finally had my fill of water, I let go of the straw and sat back in the bed-the hospital bed.

He placed the bottle back down onto a table, then dragged his seat even closer to the side of the bed.

“Bane.”

He stood, wrapping his arms around me. I clutched his arm around my chest, the tears streaming down my face taking me by surprise.

“What happened?” I asked.

He pulled away, his eyes darkening with rage. “Someone set fire to your apartment.”

I remembered the flames. I remembered the smoke. Even now, I could still smell it. “Why?” I croaked.

His hands curled into fists. “I have no idea, but I will goddamn find out why,” he vowed.

A knock on the door drew my attention. “Ms. Montana, I’m glad to see you’re awake,” a woman with blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun said as she walked into my room. Her gaze darted to Bane for a moment before returning to my face. “My name’s Detective Cox. I’m investigating the fire at your apartment.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bane snarled at the detective. I looked between the pair, seeing the antagonism simmering there. “Bane, do you know her?”

He turned his eyes back to me, the anger bleeding out. “We’ve met before, yes, Little Bird. Although I have no idea why she’s here now,” he ground out.

“Like I said, I’m investigating the fire.” Detective Cox dragged the other chair that was against the wall over to the side of the bed and settled into it. “I have some questions for you, Ms. Montana.”

“Call me Wren,” I mumbled. “Do you think someone set that fire on purpose?” I’m sure of it,” she replied, holding out her phone to me. She scrolled through about half a dozen pictures of the burnt remains of my place. “See how there are scorch marks here and here?” She pointed at something in the photograph, but I couldn’t see it. “This indicates an accelerant was used… most likely gasoline. That’s why it burned as fiercely as it did. That, plus that building wasn’t to code, so it had no fire protection or prevention methods in place.”

She switched off her phone and placed it back on her lap, looking at me like I was a naughty child who had to confess to something that had happened.

“Do you have any enemies, Ms. Montana?”

Enemies? I looked at Bane, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Cox. “No. No enemies.” “Nobody at work who’s threatened you?”

“No. I’m self-employed.”

“Where do you work?”

“Bubbly Paws.”

She nodded. “That grooming place on Trade Street?”

“Yeah.”

“Your brother, Ms. Montana, has he pissed anyone off recently?”

I resisted looking at Bane. “There was a bookie,” I replied. “But I don’t know the particulars.

You’d have to speak to him.”

“Maybe I’ll just do that,” she murmured, looking at Bane. I glanced between them, wondering what was going on. He had a death grip on my hand now, and I flexed my fingers to let him know he was holding me too tightly.

Cox’s shrewd gray eyes darted down to our joined hands. “And what’s your relationship to Mr.

Rivera?”

“None of your goddamn business,” Bane snarled while standing. “Get out of here, Cox. Wren is off-limits for you.”

The detective got up from her chair smoothly and smiled at him. “You don’t get to tell me how to do my job, Mr. Rivera.” She looked back at me. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Montana.”

As soon as she left, Bane barked, “Cunt!”

“Bane, what’s going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair and then over his stubbled jaw. “Nothing, baby.”

Anger at being dismissed surged. “Fuck you, Bane, it’s not nothing. Something’s going on between you two.”

“Wren, leave it alone,” he warned.

“No, Bane, I won’t leave it alone. Are you fucking her, too? Is that why she’s pissed off with you?”

His mouth popped open in surprise. “What?”

“Are you fucking her? After you told me you wouldn’t look at other women while I was in your bed?”

“No, baby.”

“Then what the fuck was that about?”

He began to pace, then turned to me and blew out a breath. “She’s been coming to the club. She thinks she’s got evidence she can pin on me regarding dealers getting hit.”

My heart thumped at his words. “Does she?”

“Fuck, no, she doesn’t. She’s just fishing to see what we’ll give her.”

I looked down at my ash-covered hands folded in my lap. “Did the fire have something to do with you?”

“What?” he hissed.