Broken and Beautiful

by Ryan, Kendall

  “I’m fine,” I snap.

  “You broke your hand hitting a wall, Danny,” Caitlin says. “You would end up making a mistake and you and Sam would end up losing everything that matters.”

  I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “But I don’t hear you telling me it’s wrong.”

  “You know me better than that,” she says softly, sounding tired after only a few minutes of conversation. “But you can’t take the law into your hands right now. You would get caught. All the cards are stacked against you. And I love you and Sam too much to let you leave here without speaking my mind. Whether you listen or not is up to you.”

  I swallow hard, fighting the tears that simmer as close to the surface these days as my rage. “Then what do I do? I can’t let them get away with it. They can’t do that to her and walk free. It will kill me, just…eat me alive. Just thinking about it is enough to make me fucking crazy, Caitlin.”

  “So you wait until you’re not crazy anymore,” Caitlin says, leaning in close and dropping her voice to a whisper. “You go to Sam, and while you’re healing and loving your way out of the hell you’ve both been through, you plan every single detail in advance. Take at least a year, longer if you can. Give them time to stop looking over their shoulders and make sure you have an airtight alibi. Then, if you still need this…”

  I hold her eyes. “You’re serious?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  “As long as you can do it without exchanging one thing that will eat you alive for another.” She takes my hand again, making me aware of how cold her skin is. “And don’t let it change you. You’re a good man, Danny. I wouldn’t want you to lose that, or stop believing that you deserve happiness.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I deserve,” I whisper. “We don’t get what we deserve.”

  “And thank goodness sometimes for that.” Caitlin smiles sadly. “I’m so sorry for all of this Danny, but I believe in you and Sam. You will get through this together, I really believe you will.”

  They say time heals all wounds and it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

  But when I finally fly into L.A.—getting to the courthouse hours after the not guilty verdict has been announced, thanks to a delay in Chicago—I know I will never be healed. I will never stop wanting vengeance for the girl I love.

  I search for Sam at her apartment and at the extended stay hotel where her roommate says Sam and her parents were staying during the trial. But the Collinses checked out this morning and Sam is nowhere to be found.

  I call Mr. Collins, but all he’ll tell me is that Sam drove off while he and his ex-wife were checking out of the hotel and hasn’t been answering her phone. The terse tone in his voice infers that somehow that’s my fault. He hangs up before I can tell him how sorry I am that things ended up the way they did and refuses to answer my calls for the next few days.

  I stay in Los Angeles for almost two weeks, haunting the campus, her apartment, the test prep place where she used to tutor kids after school, looking for any sign of her, but she’s vanished into thin air. I put an ad on Los Angeles Craig’s List asking Sam to call me, then cross-post it to every major city on the west coast. The next night I expand the search to the heartland and the east coast. I keep the ads rotating every forty-eight hours until my inbox is full of weird messages from creepy guys and a few desperate-sounding women and I finally realize it’s pointless.

  I’m not going to be able to find Sam unless she wants to be found.

  Finally, after two weeks of crashing at a hostel in Hollywood, sleeping in a weird pod bed that makes me feel like I’m waking up in a coffin every morning, Pete calls saying Tevia is quitting at the end of the week and he can’t get another guide trained on such short notice. If I don’t come back to step in, he’s going to have to cancel fifteen tours and the chances of staying in the black this month will be slim to none.

  I don’t want to go back or give up on Sam, but deep down I know I’m not accomplishing anything here except driving myself crazy.

  I fly home. I go back to work.

  I crash at Caitlin and Gabe’s and spend the summer teaching Emmie how to surf and doing my research on Todd, Jeremy, J.D. and Scott. In the fall, Ray and Sean go back to the American school in the city, Emmie starts home school with Caitlin, and Gabe returns to work doing whatever rich guy thing he does with properties and investments. I spend the mornings with Juliet strapped onto my chest in her sling, walking the picturesque ancient roman streets of Porec while Caitlin and Emmie study, plotting how I’ll make the monsters who hurt Sam pay. In the afternoons, I lead rock climbing expeditions up the face of the cliffs outside town, and at night, I continue my research alone in my room.

  Caitlin doesn’t talk to me about hurting people again, but she doesn’t try to draw me into family dinners or evening sails on Gabe’s boat more than once or twice a week. She gives me my space and lets me obsess, almost as if she knows planning how I’m going to get my revenge is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.

  Without Sam, without being able to love her, without even knowing if she’s okay, it’s like the best part of me has gone missing. Hate helps numb the pain of losing her, keeping me moving around and functioning instead of walking into the ocean across the street and letting the water carry me away.

  The holidays come and go and Juliet starts to crawl all over the house, but Sam’s dad still refuses to answer my calls. Spring rains flood the streets of Porec, and Caitlin and Gabe start talking about getting on a list to adopt another baby when Juliet is two.

  And then, it’s almost summer again and Ray is graduating from high school and planning a European tour with his crazy girlfriend, Sean is convincing me to hire him as a guide even though he won’t be seventeen for a few more weeks, and the summer trip I’ve been preparing for all year long is suddenly only a few days away.

  They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and of all the platitudes I’ve heard in the year since I lost the girl I love, it’s the only one that makes sense.

  I board the plane for Costa Rica in board shorts and a weathered blue tee shirt, looking like I don’t have a care in the world. I’m a laid back surfer on my way to catch some waves, not a cold son of a bitch with a block of ice and hate where my heart used to be.

  I haven’t decided whether to kill Todd, Jeremy, J.D., and Scott while they’re living it up in Costa Rica for their senior trip, or just make them wish they were dead, but I know one thing—whatever I decide, no one is going to suspect I’m the one responsible.

  Even though I have every detail memorized, I go through the plan again during the flight. It’s become a ritual more comforting than any rosary I was forced to say back when my mom still got around to dragging my ass to church.

  Soon, this will be over, and I’m not sure what I’ll cling to for comfort then, but I suppose it won’t really matter. I will have done what was right by Sam. Maybe I’ll be able to move on with my life after, maybe not, but I hope I’ll at least have put some of the regrets that haunt me to rest.

  I get off the plane at six o’clock in the morning Costa Rica time, after a red-eye flight during which I slept less than twenty minutes total. All I’m thinking about is getting to a cab and getting a full day’s sleep before I start building my alibi. I’m not thinking about love or loss or beautiful girls with big blue eyes, but the moment I see the efficient sway of the woman’s hips, I know it’s Sam walking through the airport in front of me.

  Her hair is bleached a dark shade of gold and hangs in a single braid down her back. She’s heavier than she was last summer, with powerful muscles evident beneath her black tank top and more strong, toned flesh emerging from her khaki shorts, but I know it’s her.

  I know it like I know my own name and the constellations of freckles on her tanned arms.

  They say great minds think alike, and as I tail Sam through customs, paying my cab driver extra to stay at the curb until her cab pul
ls out, and then to follow the other car through the busy streets, I wonder if it might be true.

  Maybe Sam has come here for the same reason I have.

  And maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance we’ll be heading into hell—and back out again—together.

  To be continued…

  SAVAGE HEARTS

  the conclusion to Danny and Sam’s story

  is available now.

  Sex Material

  Victoria Ashley

  Jensen

  As if this day hasn’t been shit already, I’ve spent the last hour on my crew’s ass fighting to keep them motivated enough to get through the last job of the day.

  They have no idea how thin my patience is wearing listening to their bitching and moaning every damn second of the day. It can only spread so far before it runs out, and it’s almost to that fucking point.

  My entire body is covered in sweat, making it hard to see what I’m doing without reaching up and wiping the beads with my arm on my forehead every few minutes. But I push through it, because it takes sacrifices to be successful in life.

  It’s entirely too fucking hot out here, and we all know heat leads to irritation and exhaustion, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting my crew stop until this roof is done. I put my top guys on this job, expecting their best performance, and so far today they haven’t been giving me that.

  What they need to understand is that I meet every deadline I set with my clients, and that’s the reason Blake’s Construction is as successful as it is. People want to hire an honest and reliable company to get the job done, and I deliver one hundred percent of the time. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let one of my men fuck my reputation up for me.

  “Can’t we call it a day and finish at sunrise? We have an hour, maybe two of work left, boss. I’m baking out here, and I’m pretty sure I’m a few degrees away from heatstroke. I can barely think with the pounding in my head.”

  “You’re not the only one. But like I said twenty goddamn minutes ago, no one leaves until the work is done,” I say gruffly, looking up at Jason towering over me. His six-foot-three giant ass made sure what tiny thread of patience I had left snapped. I’m just as ready to drop from the heat as they are, and truth be told, as the owner, I don’t even have to be on this roof. I could’ve sent any one of my other guys to help finish this job, but as the owner of a company, I feel like you should put just as much, or more, hard work into a job as you expect your employees to. It’s my business that will sink or swim, not theirs.

  “It’s hot as shit—”

  “You’ll survive. If you can’t, then I’ll find someone who can. Do I need to pull out the list of assholes hounding my ass for an opportunity?” I drop my nail gun and stand up to get the attention of my other two guys. They’re busy at work, which makes me a tad bit less angry at the quitter in front of me. “Anyone else afraid of dying from fucking heatstroke, or can we finish this shit so we can all go home?”

  “Hey, it’s hotter than roasting balls up here, but I’m ready to get things done,” Austin says with a shake of his head. “I’m good, man,” he reassures, his eyes barely meeting mine but for a split second, terrified to piss me off even more than I already am.

  I don’t blame him. He’s known me the longest and knows how I work. Austin knows when to back off and when not to push me.

  Exhaling my anger, I turn to Patrick and he looks up at me. “How about you? Need me to call someone and give them your job? I can have someone here to replace you before your two feet hit the ground.”

  He shakes his head, before reaching up to adjust his bandana. “Hell no. I need this job. I’m not going anywhere until you tell us to, boss.”

  With my jaw clenched, I pull my shirt over my head and wipe it over my forehead, before shoving the white fabric into my back pocket with a grunt.

  I’m difficult to work for. There’s no denying that, and even with that knowledge, I don’t give a shit about changing it. I’m not here to play nice or make friends. I’m here to get shit done, and I make that as clear as possible with all eight of my crews.

  Jason hasn’t budged, watching me when I turn back around to face him, but quickly gets back to work once he realizes I’m not fucking around.

  He’s one of my newer guys, but he proved in the first week to be one of my fastest and hardest workers. I’m starting to think the fucker was just putting on a show to get the job. I make a mental note to keep a close eye on him over the next week.

  I don’t have time to mess around when it comes to my business. My two businesses are the only things I have left that I give a damn about—Blake Construction and Blake Rentals. Everything else in this world is irrelevant to me.

  Both have managed to keep me busy, and out of my head as much as possible. Being in my head isn’t good for anyone around me—especially me. It took me too long to realize that, and I refuse to go back to the way things were before I opened my second business.

  We manage to make it through the next hour without any more bitching from my guys. The only thing left to do now is cleanup, which shouldn’t take long, as long as they exercise their hands and not their mouths.

  I’m in the middle of tossing old shingles into the dumpster when I look over at Hannah leaning against her porch railing, watching me with interest.

  Her fire-red hair is piled high in a messy bun and the cut-off shorts she’s wearing barely exist.

  She’s been renting this property from me for six months now, and has made her attraction for me clear on multiple occasions. It’s something I’m used to with my female tenants.

  It’s obvious by her lingering she has something to say, so keeping my gaze on her, I pull my gloves off and throw them next to the pile of shingles.

  I have no idea how long she’s been out here, but it’s not hard to figure out what she wants from me.

  Every damn woman wants the same thing.

  It’s been this way for the past year and a half.

  “Mind coming inside for a minute, Jensen?”

  I pull my shirt from my back pocket and wipe it over my sweaty abs and chest, before using it to clean my filthy hands off. “I’m busy, Hannah. Got work to do.”

  “It’ll only take a minute. I’m sure your crew can handle cleanup without you. Please. It’s important.”

  I doubt it.

  Frustrated, I tuck my shirt into my back pocket and follow Hannah inside. It’s been a long day, and truthfully, I’m exhausted and ready to kick back with some beers and pass out on my couch. It’s my nightly ritual. I don’t like that she’s messing with that.

  Once inside, she closes the door behind me, taking the time to let her eyes roam over every inch of my hard body as if she’s been dying all day to get a close-up.

  “What do you need, Hannah? Do you have a question about your roof? We’ve discussed everything you need to know.”

  She shakes her head, moving in closer to me, her sweet scent attacking my senses. “What I need you for has nothing to do with my roof and everything to do with my body. Today has been hell. In fact, this whole week has been total hell.”

  “And what?” I ask stiffly as she runs her hands over my abs and chest. “You think I can make it better by fucking you?”

  “From what I’ve heard… yes. Very much so.” She removes her hands from my body, but keeps her gaze trained on me, taking me in slowly. She’s devouring me with her eyes and already mentally choking on my cock. “Come on. We’ve known each other for nearly six months. There’s nothing wrong with two adults using each other to release some frustration. I need this, Jensen. You have no idea how much.”

  “I’m your landlord. Our relationship has been strictly business. You hand me your rent check and I cash it. Simple.”

  With that, I remove her hands from my body and prepare to walk away before I make the mistake of screwing another tenant. I made that mistake one time, or ten. I’m not saying I’m proud, and I’m definitely not bragging.

  “I need it f
ast and hard—no attachments—and that’s something you’re good at, right? I can’t handle any more clingy, attached guys. All I want is to get off and forget about my life. I’m not ready for that. Tell me I’m wrong about you being the right guy for this and I’ll back off, but we both know you’re perfect sex material.”

  Sex Material. It’s what I’ve become good at, and these women aren’t afraid to show me that’s all they need and want me for.

  From the determination in her fuck-me-eyes, I know she won’t give up until I give her what she wants. They never do, and in the end, I always regret giving in. But during… I need an escape from my shitty reality just as much or more than they do.

  I come at her with a small growl and grab her thighs, lifting her up my body with force. “No kissing. I’m in control. Nod if you understand.”

  She nods, tightly wrapping her thighs around my waist as if she’s afraid I’ll change my mind. I’m still considering it, depending on what comes out of her mouth next. That might be enough to make me come to my senses. “That’ll work.”

  “Where are the condoms?” I ask with a scowl.

  “Kitchen drawer, closest to the fridge.”

  Who the fuck keeps condoms in the kitchen?

  I’m frustrated as I make my way through the house in search of a hat for my fucking dick. These women use me, and as much as I hate it, here the fuck I am, giving her just what she wants.

  I make my way back through the kitchen to the living room, not bothering to be gentle with Hannah as I slam her against the wall and reach down to undo my jeans. I always end up giving them my body, but I refuse to give them anything more.

  What the hell? The woman is already moaning out her pleasure before I have a chance to pull my dick out and cover it.

  Clearly, the idea of me being inside her is enough to get her started early. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl came before I could even touch her. Women talk. Word of mouth is the best form of advertisement. They tell their friends how good of a fuck I am and then those friends go and tell their friends. By the time one gets a chance, the anticipation of me sinking between her legs is already high.