by S. Ann Cole
~
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, we’re leaving Dad’s favorite restaurant after a fun night of dinner and jazz, when we spot Torin freaking Garza in the parking lot. Leaned patiently against his big, black pickup truck, hands tucked in his front pockets. Waiting.
And just like that, I forget my name, purpose, and date of birth. Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart overheats, on the verge of short-circuiting. Like magnet to steel, my very soul is being tugged toward him.
No doubt about it, this man owns me. Heart, mind, body, soul.
I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.
“Oh, dear,” Mom mumbles.
As we near him, he straightens from the vehicle. “Henderson. Lysandra,” he greets with a nod. “All’s well?”
“All is well, thanks to you,” Mom replies with a too-sweet smile.
“He did the job he was paid to do,” Dad says grumpily. “The only ‘credit’ deserved is the big, fat check he cleared.”
At this, Torin fixes his attention on Dad. “We good?”
“For now,” Dad grunts out, then walks off.
“I’ll take her home,” Torin tells Mom, adding quietly, “Maybe.”
Mom pulls me into a hug. “See you at home, sweetie.” Then whispers at my ear, “Hot damn.”
“Mom,” I hiss.
She snickers and releases me, hurrying after Dad.
Left alone with the bronze god, I shift from one foot to the next and transfer my purse from one hand to the other. Just the mere presence of the man unnerves me. “I’m not interested in this,” I somehow manage to get out.
One eyebrow kicks up. “Interested in what?”
“In you ghosting me then showing up when you feel like it and looking at me like…like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” I swallow. “Like you own me.”
His deadpan expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even have to voice the words for me to hear them. I do own you.
“This shit was bigger than you know, Lyra. Led to a lot of arrests. There were all kinds of loose ends to tie up, to ensure they’d be no blowbacks,” he tells me. “I didn’t ghost you. Was just working.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes. “It still would’ve taken less than a minute to reply to one of my messages, Rambo.”
With a jerk of his head, he moves to open the passenger door. “C’mon.”
Though my feet itch to move at his command, I remain grounded. “What if I’m no longer interested?”
He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws something. “Then I guess you should have this back.”
I narrow my gaze at the object in his outstretched hand. It’s the permission card I’d given him. The catalyst for the most intense, magical, soul-shifting sexual experiences of my life.
Hell no I don’t want it back. And the sonofabitch knows that. So damn manipulative.
As all the will I’d mustered to play hard and give him hell seeps out of me, I brush past his outstretched hand and haul my pathetic ass into the pickup.
WE DRIVE in silence.
I’m not one to be lost for words, but what do I use as a conversation starter when I have zero clue what’s going on here? We aren’t dating. We aren’t together. And despite our electrifying chemistry, things between us have always been frustrating and confusing at best.
What now? What next? Does he want to extend our fling? Does he want...more?
A buzz from my purse pulls me from my reveries. I get out my phone and check the screen.
Reuben: Jules wants to meet you. She’s inviting you for dinner this weekend.
Me: Considering she’s been picking out expensive underwear and lingerie for me, it’s the least I can do.
Reuben: Damn. Was hoping you’d say no.
Me: Why?
Reuben: Not sure I can handle a friendship between you two.
Me: Now I definitely want to meet her!
“You found a new man already?” Torin’s voice comes at me, snagging my attention.
I glance over at him. “When would I even get the time to find a man? What with all your men on me everywhere I go?”
“Can he fight?”
“Who?”
“Whoever you’re texting.”
Is he serious? “I don’t know, but at least he responds to my texts.”
He grumbles something inaudible.
“What was that?”
He doesn’t repeat what he said. Probably for the best, as I don’t imagine it’s anything pleasant.
“Where are we going?” I ask after another long stretch of driving in silence.
“Nowhere.” He taps his thumb against the steering wheel. “Just driving.”
“So, you laid in wait for me, rankled Dad, and manipulated me into coming with you all so you could just...drive?”
He slides me a quick glance. “You didn’t miss me?”
“No,” I lie. “The spell’s worn off.”
“Hmm. Well it hasn’t for me.” His phone starts buzzing in the cup-holder. Without even looking down at it, he tells me, “Turn that off for me, will you?”
When I pick it up, I see it’s Monica calling. “It’s your—”
“I don’t care. Turn it off.”
“But it’s—”
“Don’t care. Off.”
Well, okay then. Mouthing a silent, “Sorry Monica,” I shut it down and return it to the cup-holder.
“I miss you,” Torin says without emotion. “And yeah, I came to get you just to drive with you ‘cause when you’re near my mind calms. You want nothing at all from me except to feel good and make me feel good in return. And fuck if that shit isn’t stronger than drugs. So, yeah, we’re just driving. If you’re bored, put on some music, or read one of your ebooks, or even do that annoying chatty thing that you do, ‘cause I’m not letting you out of this vehicle until I’m sufficiently high off you.”
I blink.
I make his mind calm? How? I’ve never felt like anything but a nuisance to him. Always talking, always wanting a piece of him, always needing to be rescued. Not to mention obliterating his vacation and bringing trouble to his family’s doorstep. How on earth could I be like a drug to him?
Unless he’s a masochist?
But hey, whatever floats his boat.
I lean forward and turn on the radio.
WE DRIVE for a long time, and soon we’re cruising along Mulholland Drive. Then he brakes, reverses to an overlook, and switches off the engine. “Come sit with me?”
We’re the only people here. I wouldn’t have taken him to be the type to chill at an overlook. But I really don’t know him all that well, do I?
In answer, I unbuckle my seatbelt and clamber out.
When he gets out and strides to the back of the pick-up, I follow. He lowers the tailgate and hops up onto the cargo-bed, then offers his hand to help me up.
We sit with our backs against the cabin, his long legs crossed at the ankles, mine crossed yogi style. The glitzy city twinkles stunningly below, but it’s nothing compared to the view at sunrise.
Inexplicably anxious, I tuck my hands under my thighs. This moment feels like either the start of something or the end of something.
“When did the magic die?” he asks after a while.
It didn’t. I lied, you fool. “I’m not sure. During the whole revelation, maybe.”
“Hmm.” He emits a low grunt as he gets out his phone and powers it on. “But you finished your vision board before the revelation.”
One, what does that have to do with anything? And two, how would he know that? “I did, yes.”
He drops his phone onto my lap. “And I’m not on it.”
From his phone screen, a picture of my vision board stares back at me. Bewildered, I pick up the phone and stare at the image. “How did—When did you take this?”
“When you finished it,” he replies simply. “I was always with you, Lyra.” He reaches over and grasps my chin, lifting it so my a
ttention is on him instead of the phone screen. “Why am I not on it?”
“Because…” Irritated, I twist my face out of his grasp and toss the phone onto his lap. “Because you’re not a realistic vision.”
He runs his tongue across his teeth. “And who is for you? There someone else you want? Someone else you’ve got ‘magic’ for now?”
What an absolutely ridiculous question. Two weeks ago, he was in my bedroom fucking me into oblivion. Before that, I was freaking living with him. I just got my freedom back and have spent the last week and a half bonding with my parents. When would I have gotten a chance to meet anyone else? Or is this another one of his weird manipulative tactics.
Biting my tongue, I avert my gaze and decide not to dignify his inane question with an answer.
“You want me?” he prods.
How many times must I tell him this? The word comes out before I can bite it back. “Yes.”
“You love me?”
Yes. “I don’t know.”
“I do.”
I snap my attention back to him. “You do what?”
“Know that I love you. That I want you.”
BOOM!
My heart explodes in my chest.
My neck and ears burn like they’ve been coated with gasoline and set on fire.
There’s a fist in my throat. I’m not breathing.
Breathe, Lyra, breathe.
Breathe, bitch!
The words come out in a strangle, “Y-You...love me?”
“I do.”
Confirmed without pause or hesitation. Without stutter or falter. Confidently. Assuredly.
In disbelief, I shake my head. “How? I don’t under—I mean, why?”
He takes my hand and pulls it over onto his lap, clutching it tightly, as if he expects me to bolt. “I’m not particularly good with articulating or expressing my emotions,” he says, “or just being a normal human in general. But I know that when I’m with you, I’m calm. You make me calm. When I’m with you, I’m not in the past, but here in the present, feeling the present, living in the present. Focused. I’m not in Afghanistan stepping over dead bodies of children, babies, pregnant women, or watching my fellow soldiers fall one by one.
“A long time ago, I turned off my emotions so I wouldn’t have to feel, or care. But, somehow, you’ve managed to hack and disable all my self-imposed firewalls. Now here I am, vulnerable and exposed. I feel with you. I feel so fucking much. And I’m here. In the now. I’m content. You make me feel...human, Lyra. And…and I love you. I love you so much it scares the fuck out of me.”
Breathe…
Breathe…
Breathe..
“I…” Words fail me. How? How is it possible that this gorgeous, glorious, formidable, intricately crafted specimen is in love with me?
It’s not possible.
Unable to formulate a coherent thought, the only thing I can think to do is lobby the same question he’s always asked me, “What do you want, Torin?”
“I want you,” he answers in a beat. “A life with you. Marriage with you. Kids with you. To give you a life you deserve...”
Oh, sweet heavens. I chase after my breath, catching less than a lungful. “B-But?”
His head falls back against the window. “But it’s not ‘a realistic vision’.”
“Tell me, then.” I pull my legs up and drop my chin to my knees. “What would the reality be?”
He exhales heavily. “I’d most likely be gone a lot. Wouldn’t want kids ‘cause the last thing I wanna be is an absentee father.” He squeezes my hand. “And like I told you about Ray, my stepdad? That could be me. I could leave one day and never come back.”
“Is that it?” I ask.
He looks at me like he doesn’t understand.
“Dude, I thought you were gonna tell me that I’d have to be a part of a harem where I only get my turn with you every Wednesday or something. Or that you have super dangerous enemies who would shoot and dismember me to get to you. Or—”
“Stop that.”
“What?” I laugh. “Stop giving you real deal-breaker reasons?”
He scowls.
“Okay, when you’re gone on these long jobs, would you cheat on me?”
“Never.”
“Would you hit me?”
His scowl deepens. “The fuck?”
“Would you abuse or neglect your kids?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you prone to substance abuse when stressed? Drugs? Alcohol? Pills?”
“No.”
“Would you ever do anything to put me or your kids in harm’s way.”
“Never.”
I shrug. “Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
“You deserve a better—”
“Yeah, yeah. I deserve a ‘normal’ life with a ‘normal’ man who doesn’t put himself in front of a gun to save a woman from being abducted,” I say. “But, you know, I could also marry a boring accountant and he could accidentally choke on a pen cap and die. Or I could marry a California Chad with good hair and he could cheat on me with my best friend. Or I could marry a handsome, older billionaire and he could neglect me then trade me in for a younger model at the first sign of a wrinkle or boob sag.”
“Ly—”
“You, Dad, or anyone else don’t get to tell me what I deserve. I know when to shut up and let the men take care of things and make the decisions. And I’ve been doing that for the past couple of months without asking questions, because I trust that my father wants the best for me, and I trust your expertise and capabilities,” I roll on. “But this part, my heart, my future, it’s up to me. Only me.
“I didn’t even think more with you was a possibility. But now that I know it is? Screw all your ‘buts’. I’m taking every scrap of what you have to offer. It’s my choice. I want a life with you. No matter how unpredictable and ‘non-normal’ it will be. Because more than anything else on that vision board, what I want is you, Torin Garza.”
Torin lifts my hand to his mouth and drags his teeth across my knuckles. “And I’m too selfish to disagree. The thought of you with someone else...” A low, feral sound rumbles in his throat. “You’re mine, Lyra.”
“Yes, I am,” I agree, a shiver darting through me. As his teeth pulls at the skin of my knuckles, I add, “One thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“If you so much as smile at another woman, I’ll cut your dick off while you sleep,” I warn. “And no, I’m not ‘cute.’ I’m dead serious.”
There’s a flash of white teeth around my knuckles. “That’s easy. I don’t smile.”
“You’re smiling now.”
More flashes of white. “Only because I love you and you’re my woman and you make me happy.”
Though a delicious, heart-tingling warmth spreads through me, I maintain a sober expression so he’ll know I’m not joking. “I mean it, Torin.”
He lowers my hand to his lap as his chest expands with a sigh. “I didn’t cheat on Lexi.”
“What?”
“That’s what your threat is about, right?” he asks. “You think I’ll fuck around ‘cause of what she told you.”
Well, yes. Knowing that, I’d be stupid to think he wouldn’t do the same to me. “Sure, you love me now, but you also loved her when you—”
“I didn’t cheat,” he curtails. “I orchestrated a situation to make her believe I did.”
Huh? “I don’t understand. Why would you want her to think you cheated?”
“It’s a family thing. But long story short, she was never mine to begin with. I stole her ‘cause I was a selfish asshole. Then gave her up in exchange for a better relationship with my siblings.”
I still don’t understand what any of that even means. But how could he have just given up someone he supposedly loved? Or even intentionally hurt her like that, break her heart? He might as well have cheated, because what he did is so much colder. That even now she’s under the belief that sh
e ended things on account of infidelity, not knowing she was completely manipulated.
That’s real screwed up of him. And still my crazy heart swells with love for him. I’m a madwoman. Too far gone for him.
But I don’t mind. He’s my cold, screwed-up man.
“Would you give me up?” I ask.
“Not a chance in hell.”
“What if I fell in love with someone else while you’re on one of your long jobs?”
He arches a censorious brow at me. “His blood would be on your hands.”
“You’re saying you’d kill for me?”
He’s deathly serious when he replies, “You belong to me.”
And I believe he would kill, as I’m deeply convinced he had more to do with Igor’s death than he let on.
And still I want him. Madwoman.
Releasing my hand, he grips my chin in his fist and looks me square in the eyes. “Now that you’ve chosen me, you’re locked in. I’d never fuck around on you. Never give you up, for nothing or no one. I’ll love you in every way I know how. And I’ll kill any motherfucker who tries to take you away from me.”
I’d wanted to know the real Torin Garza, and now he’s showing me. And ooh boy he’s intense. I’m so in over my head with him.
“Locked in?” I ask on a breath. “You mean, like there’s no way out?”
“None.”
I grin, because I. Am. Mad. “Good.”
A slight lip-twitch and a shake of his head. “Normal wouldn’t have worked for you, would it?”
I grin wider. “Nope.”
He kisses me. Slowly. Sweetly possessive. And I feel it. I feel his love. His promise. His passion.
And I know I should probably tell him I love him, too. But the force of what I’m feeling right now is so darn strong, fierce enough for the both of us, it’s better to wait.
With a nip of my bottom lip, he breaks away. “Got something for you.”
He releases me and retrieves something from his pocket. Proffers it.
Frowning, I take it.
Square. Flat. Wooden. Reminiscent of the permission card I’d made for him. Except this one isn’t sloppy and ill-shaped. It’s the smooth, flawless work of a pro. I brush my thumb across the grooves in the wood.
Torin shines the screen light from his phone above it, and it’s only then that I see what the grooves are.