She landed on it heavily and half fell sideways. “Stop pushing me around!” she snapped, gripping the back of the couch and righting herself. She glared up at him. “I don’t like being locked up, I don’t like being pushed and I don’t think I’m being unreasonable to expect my own room.”
Jozef was exhausted after a fucking long week with little to no sleep. He didn’t need attitude from this woman, even if she had a good reason to be mad. He needed her to settle down and accept her situation so they could get on with it. Namely, sleep.
Jozef did the only thing he knew how to do when confronted with a person who wasn’t listening to him. He pulled his gun from the holster under his leather jacket and pressed the barrel against her forehead, a reminder of her precarious situation. He did it automatically, without thinking. The gun had become such an extension of him that he saw it as more of an extra limb than a weapon.
Shaun clearly thought of it as a weapon. Her eyes widened with fear, tears giving them a shine as she stared up at him. Her entire body froze as though she thought he would pull the trigger if she so much as breathed.
Jozef regretted his action, since he'd told her he wouldn’t kill her and now she thought he would go back on that promise. He put the gun away.
She collapsed back onto the couch and let out a hiccoughing sob. She dropped her head into her hands and cried. Her shoulders shook and tears dripped from between her fingers.
He wasn’t sure what to do. The only women he’d ever had to comfort were his cousins when they were young. Both had grown into adults with the same backbone as their mother. They rarely cried anymore, at least not around him.
Jozef didn’t like Shaun’s tears, especially because he was the cause. He wanted to tell her to stop, to reassure her that he wasn’t going to kill her, but she wasn’t looking at him. He dropped to his haunches in front of her and touched her hair. She jerked back and lifted her head to look at him fearfully. Tears marked her stricken face. He hated that look, wanted to erase it from her face.
But he couldn’t. It was more than likely he would have to continue terrorizing her until she was forced to settle into her new existence. She was a saint among thieves, and he was head of the thieves. She didn’t belong in his world. In the long run she might end up wishing he’d killed her in that clearing.
The weight of his responsibility toward this woman settled heavily on him. She was a human and unless he intended to turn her into a mindless slave, he would have to find a balance between making sure she understood her place and preserving her core personality. For some reason, it was important to him that who she was remained intact while under his care. He’d made the decision not to kill her and now she belonged to him.
“I’ve never seen a real gun before… except for police officers.” Her voice was quiet and strained. She didn’t look him in the eye as she spoke but kept her gaze on her clasped hands. “I’ve never had a gun pointed at me and I’ve never seen someone die violently.”
Jozef reached out slowly so she could see his hand. He touched her knee with his knuckle, but nothing more. He didn’t want her to feel threatened again. He lifted his hand and tilted her chin until her eyes were on him.
You are safe.
She shook her head and a tear dripped down her face, creating a wet trail. “You put a gun to my head five times in the past two days. I don’t feel safe, Jozef.”
Jozef loved the way she said his name, soft and sweet, even though she spoke of her fear of him. He nodded thoughtfully. I will never again put a gun to your head.
She stared at him for several long seconds. “Can you make that promise?” she whispered.
Jozef lifted a hand to his chest and tapped over his heart. You have my word.
“Okay.” She let out a long sigh, the tension releasing from her shoulders. Once she was able to gather her composure, she looked around the room, curious for the first time. “I’m exhausted. Where can I sleep?”
She wasn’t going to like the answer. She wasn’t looking at him, so he was saved from having to answer. Instead, Jozef stood and held a hand out to her. She looked at it and then hesitantly placed her hand in his palm.
Jozef curled his fingers around hers, liking the feel of her delicate bones shifting beneath her skin. If he chose to close his hand into a fist, he could crush her.
He stood and drew her to her feet next to him. He waved his hand toward the door to his bedroom. Their bedroom.
Chapter Eleven
Jozef opened the door and indicated that Shaun should step through. She did as he asked and quickly stepped away from him. She opened her mouth to thank him for showing her to the guest room, but he stepped in with her, then closed and locked the door behind them. She turned warily as he strode across the room, dragging his leather jacket from his shoulders as he walked.
He tossed the jacket on a chair and reached for the buttons on his shirt. It was becoming rapidly clear that they were not in a guest room, as she had thought, but in Jozef’s room. A king-size bed occupied the space in front of a large stone fireplace, which was glowing brightly in the cool evening air. Someone had lit a fire in anticipation of Jozef’s arrival.
There was also a large battered leather chair, a small plush couch, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe in the room. Against the wall was a bookshelf, stuffed full, with several books tossed haphazardly on top. Though the room itself was large, it had a cozy feel. It was sparsely furnished, but the few furnishings he had were meant for comfort.
Shaun backed up and reached for the door, intent on going back out to the living room. Jozef was across the room so fast she was left gasping as he whirled her around and shoved her against the door.
He didn’t try to use sign language but allowed his stern gaze to speak for him. He had one hand on Shaun’s arm and the other on the door next to her head. His scent, a combination of masculine sweat and leather, made her head spin.
“Please don’t make me sleep with you,” she begged him, her gaze darting past him to the bed.
He growled in frustration and let her go, taking a step back and shoving a hand through his dark hair, making it stand on end. I won’t touch you, but you sleep in here.
She shook her head. “Why do we have to sleep together?”
This is not negotiable, he signed, his hands moving quickly as he conveyed his annoyance. Either you get in the bed or you take the couch. I don’t care which one. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.
Shaun’s head spun as she tried to keep up with his rapid hand movements. Before she finished absorbing the last sentence, he turned away from her, strode back to the fireplace and continued unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it from his shoulders and tossed it on top of his leather jacket on the chair next to the fireplace.
Shaun’s eyes were immediately drawn to the chiseled musculature of his back. It was as brutal as the rest of him, clearly defined muscles shifting as he moved. He had a black phoenix rising up his inked back, its wings stretched out across each of his shoulders, its beak pointing down. Her gaze strayed to the small round marks at the bottom of his back, near his spine. Bullet holes.
It hit her exactly how far out of her depth she was. Shaun had always thought of herself as a street savvy woman. She'd grown up with affluent parents and the perks of their jobs, but she hadn’t been sheltered. As a black woman, living in a predominantly Caucasian city, she’d experienced some racism in school. At the hospital she’d worked on all kinds of different wounds and illnesses. In her work with Doctors Without Borders, she’d seen and treated horrific injuries. But none of that had prepared her for what she’d experienced at Jozef’s hands.