Kyle nods his head, laughing humorlessly. “Yeah, I bet she did,” he leans close like he’s letting me in on a secret. “Look. I love my little sister, but she’s trouble. She likes to watch guys fight over her. She’ll say whatever she has to, and then her real boyfriend will show up one day with a baseball bat when you’re not expecting it.” Kyle mimics swinging a bat at my legs.
I want to believe he’s lying. I want to believe it down to my fucking core, but a hairline fracture of doubt splits my certainty that I’ve found the perfect woman. I know I won’t act on his words. She deserves more than that, way fucking more. Whatever he says. But I can feel the slight doubt wriggling its way deep into my mind where it will be nearly impossible to pull free.
“Fuck off,” I growl. “You think you’re protecting her by talking shit about her? You should be fucking ashamed.”
An emotion I can’t place flickers across Kyle’s face, but it’s gone in an instant. “I’m looking out for her. I don’t want to see her get into any more trouble. Or get any more innocent guys hurt,” he adds before turning to walk over to the bar.
I wait with white-knuckled impatience for Miley to show up for her shift, but when twenty minutes have passed and she still hasn’t shown up, my instincts tell me something’s wrong.
I pull out my phone as I push my way to the exit and jog to the parking lot. I call the general manager who runs the accounts and payroll for the club and tell him I need Miley’s address to send over a package that showed up at the club. He reads it off without question.
I hang up the phone before jumping into my car. I may come barging into her place and make a total idiot out of myself, but she’s either missing work because something wrong, or she’s avoiding me. Either way, I’m going to find out.
28
Miley
You need to leave,” I say for what feels like the twentieth time.
I’m standing in the kitchen next to the drawer full of knives and Cade is on the other side of the counter. His hair is disheveled and his eyes look a little bloodshot, but the worst part is the smell. I was only with him a few months, but I quickly learned to associate the smell of booze with danger, and right now it’s wafting to me even from several feet away. I still can’t believe I thought he was handsome when we first met. But I guess I should know how even the worst men can put on a clean shirt, comb their hair, and flash a charming smile for a few hours--just long enough to lure me in.
“I’m not going to fucking leave without you,” he says.
“Yes, you are.” My voice is as slow and controlled as I can manage. It feels like I’m trying to talk down a wild animal and even the slightest provocation could be deadly. But I’m not letting him intimidate me into going with him. He’s going to find out what’s in the goddamn drawer behind me if he tries anything.
“Miley. I know I fucked up,” he says. He looks at me with a pathetic attempt at puppy-dog eyes, but to me it just looks grotesque, like some kind of monster putting on a mask--nothing in the expression is quite right, almost like it’s practiced and forced. “If you give me another chance I can be better to you.”
“Another chance?” I ask, voice breaking. The emotion that wells up so suddenly isn’t for Cade. Fuck him. It’s for all the time I’ve wasted with men like him. All the unlucky circumstances and poor decisions up until this point. Maybe it took the worst one of them all to finally wake me up and make me realize I need to change. “Another chance to kick the shit out of me? To beat me? To abuse me?”
“Careful,” he says, dropping the mask of false sorrow so that the cruelty I came to know from him is front-and-center. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, but if you’re going to be a fucking bitch, well, I know how to get you in line.”
I open the drawer behind me and yank a knife free, pointing it toward him. “I swear to God. If you come anywhere near me, I’ll do everything in my power to kill you. I swear it,” I promise.
Amusement lights his eyes. “Everything in your power? You mean jack shit?”
He takes a few slow steps around the counter, coming toward me. I sidestep, trying to use the counter to keep him as far away from me as possible as we both circle it. We change directions, and the amusement on his face turns to frustration. “You think this is a goddamn game?” He lunges forward, clearing half the counter and putting himself within grabbing distance of me and the knife.
I take a wild swing, missing his hand by inches so that the knife clinks off the countertop and sends a nasty vibration through my hand. I’m two steps toward the door to the hallway outside when someone knocks so hard on the door it sounds like thunder.
“Miley!” calls a deep voice from outside. “Are you in there? Miley!”
“Help!” I shout, but it’s all I have time to do before Cade catches me from behind, pinning my arms to my side.
With a loud crash, the door swings open, breaking off its hinges a split second later. I’ve never been as relieved to see someone in my life as I am to see Jayce push his way inside with those gray eyes somehow seeming as hot as fire.
He assesses the situation in a fraction of a second, faster than Cade’s drunken mind can apparently keep up with, and takes one long step toward me before throwing a lightning-fast punch directly into Cade’s nose.
His grip on me goes slack, letting me rush away from him and go to the wall. I turn quickly, holding my knife up in case Cade tries to come for me again. But he’s already on the ground, lifting his head dizzily and holding his bloody nose. Jayce towers over him, legs planted wide and fists clenched at his side--clearly sending the message that if Cade decides to get up again, he’ll regret it.
“You’re Cade?” he asks in a voice that sends a chill through me.
“Fuck you, asshole.” Cade’s voice is thick with what sounds like a broken nose and a mouthful of blood.
Jayce kneels beside Cade, showing no sign of fear at all. Though I guess a man like Jayce has nothing to fear from Cade. It doesn’t take much strength to abuse a woman, especially one who makes the mistake of entrusting her submission to the wrong person. I see that more clearly now that the two men are side by side. Cade looks weak, pathetic, and frail. Jayce is thick with power and confidence, making Cade look like a small boy by comparison.
“I saw what you did to her,” Jayce says. His voice is calm and frighteningly quiet. He hasn’t said a single threatening word yet, but the promise of violence is so clear in his tone that I have to fight my instincts to squeeze my eyes shut.
“I saw the bruises,” he continues. “The first I saw was here,” he says, mercilessly planting a punch to Cade’s eye. Cade’s head snaps back and bounces off the floor. He groans, pulling his hands up to cover his face.
A confusing mixture of sympathy and disgust fills me. Cade is as defenseless against Jayce as I was against him, and as much as I’ve prayed for this moment, to see him get what he deserves and more… it doesn’t feel like I thought it would. I think to how it felt to be hit like that and know I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. All I really wish is that Cade and men like him would never hurt anyone else. So how can I stand here and feel good about watching him get beat senseless?
“Jayce…” I say. “It’s enough, it’s--”
“The second was here,” says Jayce, who pulls back his leg and kicks Cade hard in the ribs.
Cade folds in on himself, squirming and groaning. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Jayce!” I shout, dropping the knife and running to pull back on him, to stop this before he ends up killing Cade.
Jayce turns on me suddenly, and for a moment it’s like he’s not even there--I only see wild rage in his eyes. But in a few moments, he seems to wrestle back some control, features softening as he looks me over, putting his hands to my cheeks, my shoulders, my sides--searching me for any sign of injury.
“I’m okay, Jayce. He only grabbed me.”
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure. Thanks to you,” I say.<
br />
Jayce turns to look at Cade again, and I see some of the inhuman anger start to creep back into his features. I take him by the cheeks and turn his face to mine, standing on my tiptoes I kiss him. It’s the first thing I can think of to stop him from exacting more revenge on Cade, but even as the passion of the moment threatens to sweep me away, I know I’ve made a mistake. I can practically feel Cade’s eyes burning into us. When I pull back from the kiss, Cade has already shuffled toward the door, face bloody and hands clutching at his side.
“I’m not done,” he says before stepping over the broken door and into the hallway.
“I could kill him,” Jayce says lightly.
I look at him in disbelief until I realize he’s joking.
He flashes a half-smile back at me. “Sorry. Too soon?”
“Yes,” I say with a small laugh. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
“You didn’t show up for work. I was waiting all day for you to come, then…” He looks slightly uncomfortable for the first time since we’ve met. Jayce clears his throat before he frowns at me, clearly searching for the right way to ask a difficult question. “You and Cade,” he says finally. “Had you really ended things before last night? Before what we did?”
“Yes…” I say slowly, not understanding why he would ask me something like that. “I told you I did.”
He nods, but there’s a strange look on his face.
“Wait,” I say. “Did you talk to Kyle?” I’ve made a habit of keeping the identity of my boyfriends a secret from Kyle in the past, because he has a bad habit of making up stories to sabotage my relationships. Now, seeing the way Jayce is looking at me and the fact that he questioned what I told him last night has me wondering if Kyle is back to his old crap.
“I did.”
“Wow,” I say slowly. “What he said about you was probably a lie, too.” I’m talking more to myself at this point.
“What?” asks Jayce.
“He said you were charged with human trafficking a few years ago. He was obviously hoping it would spook me into staying away.”
“Did it?”
I tilt my head, considering. “Maybe a little,” I admit. “But I was going to ask around at work tonight. And then…”
“ “And then,” he prompts
“What did Kyle tell you?” I ask, changing the direction of our conversation.
“It’s not important. I would’ve only really believed it if I heard it from you.”
“That’s a lot of trust to put in a stranger,” I say with a small smile.
“You didn’t feel like a stranger when I was fucking that tight little pussy of yours.”
I look away guiltily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
He steps closer, putting his hand on my arm. I hate how the simplest touch from him seems to blast away all my well-laid plans to stay away. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it. Just ask.”
I shake my head, looking down at our feet, wishing I had a magical crystal ball that tells me the right answers. Whether or not I should trust this man when every single time I’ve ever trusted a man, it’s led to me getting hurt--Kyle included. “How do I know it’ll be different?” I ask.
I think I might have to explain more, but I can see from the look on Jayce’s face that he understands. “Because you feel what I feel,” he says softly. “You do. I can see it in your eyes, princess.”
I look away, feeling like meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds is dangerous. Looking into those stormcloud gray eyes is like wading out into a riptide. Where every second I stare into them is another step deeper and deeper, until I can feel the tug of the current at my waist, threatening to pull me so deep I’ll be swept away.
Right now, that scares me more than anything. “Maybe I feel something. But I’ve trusted my feelings before, and look where that got me,” I say, motioning to the few drops of blood on the carpet where Cade was lying.
“One date,” he says. “Give me just one date. You pick the place, the time, everything. If you still feel uneasy after it’s over, then you gave it a shot and you won’t look back and ask yourself if you made a mistake passing this up.”
“Passing this up?” I ask with a grin. “Passing you up, you mean?”
He shrugs. “Sounded better my way.”
I laugh, then shake my head and sigh. “Please don’t make me regret this.”
“Not a chance, princess. Just tell me when, and you’re going to have the night of your life.”
I can’t help smiling a little, because the idea that pops into my head is too perfect to pass up.
29
Jayce
When Miley insisted on driving separately to meet at the place she picked, I wasn’t sure what to think. It was only yesterday that I punched out her sleazy ex, but it already feels like I’ve been waiting weeks to see her again. As much as I’m dying to get her back into the club, or better yet--my personal play room, I know that’s not what she needs. Not quite yet, at least. She needs to see that this isn’t another mistake, and I’ll be damned if I don’t prove it to her.
I look up at the place. Galaxy Golf. It’s a huge, ten story driving range that looms above a green expanse of astro-turf, but there are electronic targets scattered across the range. I looked the place up before we came, and apparently it makes some kind of game out of it. You get more points for hitting the center of the target or for hitting targets farther away, and you get the most points for hitting the back wall.
I have to admit, it sounds kind of fun, even if I’m absolutely shit at golf.
When I finally see Miley walking toward the front of the building, she’s flanked by a woman wearing black fishnet stockings, some kind of black coat with metal rings, and enough makeup that she looks like she’s about to walk on stage to perform at a rock concert. I feel my eyebrows creeping upwards. She brought a friend? Fucking seriously?
My annoyance is forgotten for a moment as I take in Miley. She’s wearing tight, dark wash jeans that make her legs go on for days and a short leather jacket over a dark blue corset that pushes her perfect breasts up and shows just the slightest amount of skin at her waist. She’s the perfect vision of subdued and sex kitten.
Damn. She’s lucky she brought a friend, or I might lose my conviction to keep this date PG. With annoyance, I wonder if that’s why she decided to bring a friend in the first place--to keep me honest.
As much as I wish I had her to myself, I have to give her credit for her cleverness.
“You must be Jayce,” her friend says. “I’m Darla.” Her voice is a surprisingly deep, monotone, and her sleepy eyes never seem to blink.
“I see,” I say, looking to Miley. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a friend. I could’ve invited one of my own.”
“Yeah,” Darla quips. “Maybe you could have set me up with them.” She rolls her eyes and walks inside with this strange, stiff posture and slow but forced grace.
I turn to Miley once we have a moment of privacy. “What are you playing at?”
I can tell she’s working hard to keep her nerve, but she stares right back at me. “I brought her because I don’t trust myself. She’ll keep me from doing anything stupid. And…” Miley says with mild reluctance. “Darla loves this place.”
I look toward her friend with more than a hint of skepticism. “Seriously?”
“What?” Miley asks with a mischievous glint in her eye. “She doesn’t look like a golfer to you?”
I chuckle. “Where exactly did you two meet?”
“I’ve known her since Pre-K. We were both always getting bullied, so it was one of those unlikely allies kind of things.”
Miley says it so offhandedly, but I can tell her childhood isn’t just a memory to her. It’s a scar she carries with her every day. An irrational anger rises up in me at the fact that I’m only now finding her, that I wasn’t there to shield her when she needed it most. But I know all I can do is be good to her now and give her the life she deserves,
if she’ll let me.
“Any of these bullies still around?” I ask. “I could pay them back, with interest, of course.”
Miley eyes me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I know the thing with Cade…” She chews her bottom lip for a second, searching for the right words. “I needed you last night. But having a guy in my life to punch everyone who wrongs me in the face isn’t what I need, not in the long run.”
“I could always punch them in the neck,” I suggest.
She plants a fist on her hip and gives me glare, but she can’t keep from grinning a little. “I didn’t take you for the type to have much of a sense of humor.”
“Well, the first time we met, I was… distracted. And the second didn’t exactly seem like the place for humor.”
“Distracted?” she asks.
“I had more important things occupying my mind,” I say, letting my eyes rove over her body for emphasis.
Her cheeks flush the most beautiful shade of red. I smirk, which makes her take a sudden interest in her shoes. “Sorry. It still doesn’t feel like that was me.. I hardly recognize the me that did something so… reckless.”
“The real question isn’t if you recognize her. It’s if you liked her.”
Miley raises her eyebrow thoughtfully. “Better than the usual me,” she says softly. “The usual me seems to only find ways to wind up the victim.”
“Don’t do that,” I say firmly. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You say you needed me last night? Fuck, Cade needed me. If I hadn’t shown up I think you would’ve gutted him in the middle of your living room.”
She laughs, but the humor quickly drains from her face as she realizes I’m right. “I really do appreciate what you did. I don’t know if I properly thanked you. And I’m sorry for how I’ve been. I guess we just met at a weird point in my life.”
“You’re apologizing?” I ask in disbelief. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m over here jumping through hoops to keep you from running off. The only thing you need to apologize for is being so goddamn irresistible that I’m willing to make a fool out of myself for you.”
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