Page 48 of Jace
Jace’s hand suddenly squeezes mine, sweating and shaking, though he doesn’t stop leading the way.
His claustrophobia.
“We got this.” I urge. “Keep going.”
He doesn’t speak. He keeps guiding me, but after a minute, the deeper we’re into the underground tunnel, his steps falter. Collapsing against the dank brick wall, he’s huffing. Skin clammy. Eyes frantically searching the ceiling with no escape.
“Hey.” I step in front of him, clasping his sweaty face. “Look at me.” He tries but can’t focus. My sweet big guy is four years old again and trapped inside a wooden trunk.
“Jace Ryan.” I pull his sweaty forehead down to meet mine. “Stay with me, please. You’re safe. We’re gonna be okay.”
“That’s not my name.” He huffs.
Okay, I’ll play along. It’s his panic attack, and I just want to help him. “Okay, if you’re talking, you’re breathing, so tell me your name.”
“Jasha Ruslanovich Kholodov.”
He says it with an accent so accurate and thick he’s not hallucinating. He’s Russian.DNA. Criminal. Family.I put it together fast.
Jace is Bratva.
Unfortunately for me, my ex-husband watchedJohn Wicklike Keanu Reeves was a cult leader. I had to suffer through way too many Gun-Fu movies.
Fortunately for Jace, I don’t care because I only care about him.
“Okay, Jasha.” I press my forehead to his again, willing his stare to lock on mine. “I’m Vivian Rhiannon Tate.”
He blinks. “Rihanna?”
“No, Rhiannon. I wish I could say I was an R&B goddess or Welsh, but no. My mom worships Fleetwood Mac and thinks Stevie Nicks is a goddess.”
He blinks again.
He’s almost with me.
“And I’m going to kiss you,” I demand, “and it’ll be so earth-shattering that you’re going to walk on water right out of here with me, because God knows, big guy, I can’t carry you, but I’m willing to die trying.”
A smile barely jolts his lips. “No.”
“No? I can’t carry you, or no, I can’t rock your world with my kiss?”
He focuses, exhaling, rubbing his nose to mine. “No to kissing me for the first time in the middle of a panic attack.”
I peck his nose. “Therehe is.”
“Get me the fuck out of here.”
“Come on.” I wrap my arm around his waist, guiding him. He staggers, exhaling longer than he inhales, until we turn right and can see the light. Not God light.Thank God.It’s light streaming in from an iron gate, looming over an iron ladder.
“Okay.” Jace grabs a full breath. “After you.”
“Fuck chivalry.” I gesture to the ladder. “You first. I’m not risking leaving you down here in another panic.” He’s about to debate me. “Besides, I really wanna eye-fuck your ass; heard you got a hot peach.”
Jace is seeing a new side of me, I know.
The feisty old Vivian from my teen years got tranquilized by a bullshit marriage to a man-child. But now she’s wide awake and wants to take care of her very grown-ass man.
He smirks. “I’m not the only one who’ll be explaining things tonight.”
