by Ava Kendrick
He looked serious again. “Yeah, well. I couldn’t get you to tell me where you lived and your friend didn’t answer when I tried calling back from your cell.”
I nodded. Probably busy getting naked with Tony back at her apartment. I felt a pang of jealousy. I wasn’t even capable of a night of no-strings sex? “So nothing happened…?”
He shook his head and put his empty plate back on the table. I had barely eaten half of my food. He obviously had a ferocious appetite. Just not for me.
“No. I brought you back here.”
“And took off my clothes.”
He bristled. “No. I showed you the room. You undressed before I’d even left.”
I cringed.
“Hey come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It sounded like you needed a blowout with all the shit that’s been happening.” He gestured to my head.
I shrugged.
“So you really don’t remember a thing? From the attack?” he said, pulling me away from my thoughts.
I shook my head. “No. I guess I told you. I woke up in the hospital a month later. I can’t remember a thing. I’ve tried and tried. Probably too hard. That was why I just wanted to go and get drunk and…”
“Usually people drink to forget. Not remember.”
“Do you?” I whispered, putting my plate down, half-eaten.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Oh.” I glanced around. Was this my cue to leave? Did I leave it up to him to ask for my number, or did I just ask for his? I didn’t know. I’d never encountered a guy like him, and suddenly I wanted to know more.
“If it worked, though,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
“What?”
“Nothing. I mean… You know. You’re desperate to remember. Well, there are a lot of people desperate to forget.”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
I looked up at him. He was staring at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. All of a sudden, he seemed sad. He shook his head and the moment was gone. He stood and picked up the plates.
“Hey thanks for last night,” I whispered, to break the silence.
He shrugged. “That’s okay.”
I looked down at my hands. “I better… you know…”
He looked at me silently.
“Julia’ll be worried about me.”
He nodded and turned back to the kitchen. He turned around and looked at me. Again I had the feeling that he was conflicted about something. He shook his head.
“Nice meeting you. Just pull back the deadbolt.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but then stopped. It was pretty clear that was the end of us as far as he was concerned.
“Okay. Goodbye then, I guess.”
Eight
Roman
Nice meeting you?
I sat on the couch watching the weekly game report. It was mid-afternoon, and I didn’t know how many hours I’d been sitting there like that. Usually I liked being alone, but now I was unsettled. It was like she’d climbed into my head and set up camp. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, no matter how hard I tried.
Just pull back the deadbolt?
I played my words over and over in my head. For the last ten years, my world has been black and white. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Kill. Repeat. But this was different. This was after the absolute head-fuck of the night before.
She was different.
I’d had a job planned that afternoon, but the moment the door closed behind her I knew I needed to reschedule. It was like ten years’ worth of emotion had hit me at once—I was angry one moment and regretful the next. There was no way I could have allowed my associates to see me like that. They hired me based on my reputation as a tough guy, not a fucking pussy.
But I couldn’t switch it off. I don’t know what made her different to any other woman who had crossed my path. Sure, she was fucking gorgeous, with an ass that could cause accidents if you put it on a freeway billboard. But there was something else. There had to be. This woman, this broken, damaged, sassy woman. She was capable of turning me into a pussy. And that was a dangerous thing for a guy like me.
I shook my head and stood to get a drink. I never thought about my life, not since Maria. But now it was all coming back—the regrets, the what ifs. What if I’d taken a different path after the military? Once upon a time, not long after I’d gotten back from my final tour, I’d made a decision. But that had all changed…
I cracked open the beer with a knife and took a deep pull. But that wasn’t true either, was it? I couldn’t blame anyone else for my choices. Would I really have lived a different life as an upstanding citizen if they hadn’t taken her?
No one did this to me. My choices made me who I am.
“Stop,” I screamed into the emptiness.
I shook my head, scared I was losing my mind. I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up as loud as I could, hoping it would drown out my thoughts.
It wasn’t working. I needed to get out. But where? I couldn’t go back to the bar. I’d seen her twice already.
I squeezed my eyes closed. If only I could have just gone to her; allowed things develop between us and seen where they went. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t some doctor or businessman who met a girl, fell in love and had two perfect kids. No. With my background, I was destined to be alone. I just had to get the fuck over it and accept that.
Nine
Cleo
One Week Later
I left the library and immediately pulled out my cell phone. It was an entire week since I’d spent the night at his place. And I hadn’t heard from him. How could I, when he hadn’t asked for my number? But even that didn’t stop me thinking about him.
He’d been standoffish. He hadn’t laid a finger on me. I should have run a mile. But…
Ugh. The sight of him in his underwear, all buff and masculine. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind.
I put my phone away and told myself to stop acting like such a dweeb. I had bigger things to worry about. Like, where I was going to get the money to pay for my hospital bill?
With no laptop, I’d been spending my days in the public library updating my resume and looking for jobs. It was frustrating, but at least it kept my mind from dwelling on the attack. And him.
I ran down the steps to the subway and tried to put him out of my mind. He wasn’t interested. But I could fantasize, right? I’d been surrounded by finance majors and accountants my entire adult life. The only place I’d seen rugged men was in the movies. Sure, some of my accountant friends were buff. But that was because they spent hours in the gym before and after work.
Mystery Man. Roman. There was something different about him. I could tell he wasn’t the type who lycra’d up at five in the morning to take a spin class. I shivered as I pushed myself into the crammed carriage. No, he wasn’t the gym type. He got that body someplace else.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t interested, though. It was good to have something to take my mind off everything else. I’d been having these fucked up dreams, where it felt like I was this close to remembering the home invasion. But then I’d wake up and it would all just vanish like a puff of smoke. I couldn’t stand it.
And it helped when my diversion looked like he did.
I pictured him as I moved toward the doors. He looks like the kind of guy who fucks like some sort of sex athlete.
I shivered, feeling a bolt of desire and heat shoot through me. I never thought about guys in those terms; never. It was like Roman had climbed under my skin and refused to leave. I took a deep breath, convinced that my arousal was obvious to the people around me. But when I looked around, no one was paying attention to me.
A strange giddy feeling ran through me then—I’d escaped death. I felt like I could do anything.
I left the train and floated up the steps feeling lighter than I had in weeks. It carried me all the way along the street and into Julia’s building, where I let myself into her apartment with the spare key s
he’d given me.
I threw the door open and stopped. Julia and Tony from the bar were on the couch—if I’d been two minutes later, I would have caught them fucking.
“I’ll go.”
“No, stay. Wait,” Julia said, jumping up and pulling down her shirt. “We were just…”
Tony sighed and glanced from her to me.
“Stay,” she said vehemently, opening the fridge and grabbing three cokes.
I threw my purse on the floor beside the door and shuffled over to join them.
“Any luck with an apartment?” Tony asked.
I shook my head. “I need a job first.”
Julia shot him an evil look. “Cleo is staying here until she gets back on her feet, like I told you. If you didn’t live with twelve other people then we could go stay at yours. But you do. So…”
He shook his head and said nothing.
“What are you guys watching?”
“UFC.”
I glanced at the screen and my heart jolted. Something about these tall, strong fighters reminded me instantly of Roman. I wondered if he was a boxer. Or a martial arts expert. I lay back against the misshapen old couch and zoned out.
“Oh baby. Stop wiggling, you’re making me so hard.”
I rolled my eyes and shifted along the couch, backing myself into the tiniest space possible.
Julia glanced at me apologetically.
I shook my head. Despite her insistence that I stay, she was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. And here I was, crashing her date.
I looked back at the TV, doing my best to ignore Julia’s squeals and Tony’s not-so-subtle flirting.
“Oh baby,” he groaned.
“I’m gonna go for a walk,” I announced, standing up and bolting for the door before she could stop me.
I walked and walked. Julia’s neighborhood was sketchy at night, but it was busy and safe in the daytime and early evening. It felt good to get out and explore. After an hour, though, I was exhausted. A month in a coma had atrophied my muscles to the extent that I wasn’t able to be active for very long without getting tired. I also hadn’t eaten in a long time.
I glanced around for someplace to eat, and realized something. I recognized those streets. His place. It was near here. My heart started beating before I’d even made the decision.
It’d be a shame to eat alone, wouldn’t it?
I shook my head and turned so rapidly I felt faint. What was I thinking? The guy had practically shooed me from his apartment. I’d made an idiot of myself in front of him, dancing on tables like some kind of desperate psycho.
But my feet wouldn’t move. I stood there, planted to the spot.
Let go, Cleo. Allow yourself this distraction.
I smiled. I’d just recovered from a head injury. My ex had dumped me when I was still in a coma and I was homeless and unemployed. So what if Roman wasn’t interested in being my boyfriend? It wasn’t like I wanted a long-term commitment. No, I wanted a no-holds-barred fuck with a guy who looked like something out of the movies.
I turned and walked rapidly in the direction of his building before I could change my mind.
Ten
Roman
I froze. I silenced the TV and listened, wondering if I’d just heard the neighbor thumping on the wall again.
It wasn’t that.
Someone was knocking on my door.
I glanced around. The Beretta was my closest weapon; I’d left it in the hall table beside the door. But for my own apartment building? Especially when my apartment was rented in my real name? I went to the closet and pulled out my 22.
Whoever it was knocked again; I could hear the impatience this time.
I stuck the gun down the back of my jeans and tip-toed toward the door, catching my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I passed. I looked grim. Worried.
An overreaction? I didn’t think so. I never got visitors. And those rare few who came to see me never felt the need to knock.
I pulled the door open and stood to one side just in case they tried to shoot through the door. Adrenaline coursed through me as I turned my head to see who it was.
It took a couple seconds for me to realize I’d overreacted.
“It’s you.” My adrenaline started flowing again—but it was for a different reason this time.
She nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Who’d you think it was? Assassins?”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. If only she knew how close she was to the truth. I shook my head and pulled the gun out of my belt, dropping it into a drawer behind me before she could see. “No. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“That was obvious.”
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“I tailgated someone from your building.” She raised an eyebrow. “What you doing?”
I knew I should close the door and lock it. I knew I should push her away and not get involved.
Instead I found myself laughing. “You couldn’t have called to ask me that?”
She leaned against the door frame and smiled coyly. “I didn’t have your number. And it’s not like I planned to come here. I just found myself in the area and thought I’d stop by.”
I watched her as she spoke. She’d gotten her color back and she looked stronger than she had the night we’d first met. But she still seemed so small and delicate. I felt a sudden urge to pull her to me and keep her safe.
That’s why you should have closed the door, idiot.
“Stop looking at me like I’m a baby lamb with a broken leg. Want to go for a drink?”
I shook my head. If I’d had the chance to walk away before, it was gone now. I was hooked on her delicate looks and smart mouth. She was like no woman I’d ever met before.
What I really wanted to do was drag her into my apartment and fuck her brains out. Instead I nodded. “Sure.”
She smiled. “Know anywhere good around here? I’m new to the area.”
I tried to think of somewhere good, but in an instant my mind was filled with the memory of her climbing onto our table in that bar. I swallowed. I didn’t know where in the hell I’d found the self-control to talk her down from there when it was the hottest thing I’d seen in a long time.
“Well?
I grinned. “We could go back to that bar and see if they’d let you perform again.”
Redness crept from her neck all the way up her cheeks. “Oh god,” she groaned.
“What? It was awesome.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. Please. I left Julia’s apartment to get away from their cringy behavior. I don’t want to be reminded of my own.”
I opened my mouth to tease her and then stopped. She was staring up at me and I got the sudden feeling that those bright green eyes would be the death of me. I wanted her. I was drawn to her so strongly that I couldn’t walk away now, even though I knew it was the best thing for both of us.
“Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere.”
Somewhere on the walk from my apartment building to E Street, the plan changed. Now we were going for dinner. By now, I’d accepted it. I was a grown man—I could control my emotions. We’d fuck and I’d finally get her out from under my skin. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant price to pay for getting her out of my mind…
“What about this place?”
I glanced in the window of the little neighborhood Italian she was pointing to. “Sure.”
I held the door open for her. As she passed under my arm, I caught the scent of her shampoo. It was citrus; sharp but sweet. Kinda like she was, I thought, immediately wanting to seriously hurt myself for thinking like that. What was I, fucking Shakespeare?
“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting down beside the window. “You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
I sat opposite her and shrugged. “Work’s been kinda crazy.”
She frowned. “I know you probably told me already, but you know that night was…”
I watched her,
alarmed. I’d been telling people I worked in insurance for years. And I didn’t give a shit. But she was different. I didn’t want her to picture me as a sleazy salesman, forcing useless policies on retirees. What else was I gonna tell her, though? My real job was off limits and a damn sight worse than working in insurance.
I could dress it up any way I liked, but there was no denying the truth. I was a hitman. I killed people for a living. Sure, they were bad people. But it wasn’t exactly a prestigious career, especially not for girls like Cleo.
“I’m in insurance,” I said flatly, feeling shitty for lying to her.
Her expression didn’t change. “What kind?”
The kind that involves hunting down other criminals and putting bullets in their heads?
“Oh, you know. This and that. I sell whatever policies my company tells me to.”
Her eyes narrowed.
My heart hammered in my chest. For a brief moment, I wanted her to see through the lie; to see the real me. But of course she didn’t—if she suspected the truth, she would have been out of that restaurant like a shot.
“You don’t seem like an insurance salesman.”
Sexy, sassy and smart? I thought, groaning inwardly. If my circumstances had been different, this was the type of woman I would have walked over hot coals to be with. But women like her dated doctors or bankers. Not hired fucking killers.
I shrugged, feeling dark about it. Why had I done it? Why hadn’t I joined the cops like my brother? I knew it wasn’t that simple—my hand had sort of been forced. When they’d taken Maria I hadn’t exactly been capable of making sound decisions. Still it hurt. All of a sudden I ached to have a normal life; to spend my weekends wandering farmers’ markets and coffee shops with Cleo’s arm wound through mine.
Holy shit, man, I thought. Before you met this woman, your idea of a good night was based on how many strippers you’d banged. And now? You’re fantasizing about fucking brunch?
“Roman?” she said quietly. “Are you okay? I guess you really hate your job, huh?”