Because of You

by T. E. Sivec

  “Did you get a good look at him? Recognize his voice?”

  I finally stand up and turn to face Finn, our noses practically touching, the tightness in my eyes and my face hopefully warning him that I’m about two seconds away from beating his ass if he doesn’t stop.

  “I think Layla needs a break. At least until the cops get here. She shouldn’t have to go over this more than once,” I tell him.

  I can see the war of emotions on his face: rage, resentment, jealousy, shame. They’re all right there for me to witness as he tries to keep himself in check and not make a scene in front of Layla.

  “I’m going to go get you a few wet towels for your cuts and scrapes, see if I can stop the bleeding, and a bag of ice for your cheek,” I tell Layla without taking my eyes off of Finn.

  Once I’m satisfied he’s finished grilling her, I step around him and head for the massive staircase next to the kitchen, hoping it will take me to a bathroom.

  As I finish wringing out a couple of small towels a few minutes later, I hear the door slam closed downstairs and a raised voice carrying up the stairs. Grabbing the towels, I go out into the hall and look down over the balcony above the living room to see Eve standing next to the couch glaring down at Layla with her hands on her hips, her posture rigid.

  “What the hell were you thinking, you stupid, stupid girl? Have you even seen your face? How in the hell are you supposed to do a photo shoot tomorrow for the cover of InStyle when you look like shit?” Eve berates Layla.

  My blood boils when I hear the words coming out of Layla’s mother’s mouth, and I quickly turn and head for the stairs.

  “I swear to God you are WORTHLESS! You see what happens when you don’t listen to me? Things get ruined. You ruin everything. Now I’m going to look like an idiot when I have to call the magazine and reschedule the shoot,” Eve states as I make my way to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Jesus, wash that shit off of your hands and legs for God’s sakes before anyone gets here and sees you looking like this.”

  I waltz up behind Eve, reach around her, and quietly hand Layla one of the wet towels, giving her a reassuring smile as I do so.

  Eve jumps when she realizes she isn’t alone in the house with Finn and her daughter and quickly turns around and pastes a fake smile on her face.

  “Mr. Marshall! So good to see you again, I didn’t realize—”

  “No, you didn’t realize,” I deadpan, cutting her off. “Layla is fine, by the way. I’m sure she appreciates your concern for her well-being. The guy who attacked her only dragged her by her hair and punched her in the face so hard that she passed out. I got a few good punches in, but he took off before I could apprehend him. That’s what you were going to ask next, right? If we caught the guy who jumped your daughter right outside of a club packed with people?”

  We stand there staring at one another, and the tension is so thick in the room I might be a little uncomfortable with it if I gave two shits what this woman thinks of me.

  “Finn, could you go outside and greet the police officers when they get here?” Eve asks, breaking my stare and walking around me towards the kitchen.

  She busies herself making a pot of coffee, running water into the carafe, and rummaging through cupboards for mugs and coffee grounds, completely ignoring the fact that I just called her on her bullshit.

  Finn spares one more guilt-ridden glance towards Layla before turning and walking out the door. Walking over to where she sits on the couch, I go back to my earlier position of kneeling in front of her on the floor and take the wet towel from her hands. I begin softly patting the cuts and scrapes on her knees to try to get them to stop bleeding, pausing and wincing with her every time she takes in a painful breath when I touch a particularly rough looking spot.

  “You shouldn’t have done that. You’re on her shit list now,” Layla says softly, not looking up from what she’s doing.

  “I couldn't care less what that woman thinks of me,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Eve can’t hear us. “It’s disgusting that she cares more about your appearance than what could have happened to you out there.”

  Layla shrugs and I notice the mirth in her eyes from a few moments ago when I teased her about the size of her home is now completely gone. Her shoulders droop and her head hangs low, the sparkle in her eyes, despite what happened to her earlier, replaced by dullness and resignation.

  “I’m used to it. It’s no big deal.”

  I open my mouth to argue with her. To tell her that it IS a big deal and tell her she’s worth more than her mother even knows, that she’s strong and amazing and nothing Eve says means anything, that EVE doesn’t mean anything, but before I can reassure her, the door opens and the cabin is suddenly filled with members of the Nashville police department and three EMTs who all rush to Layla’s side, shoving me out of the way to tend to her and ask her questions.

  I recognize a few of the men from the force, none of whom I’ve seen since Eric’s funeral because I chose to shut myself off from these people and that life the day I said goodbye to him and began to drown myself in booze. It’s awkward and uncomfortable at first as they shake my hand, pat me on the back, and ask me how I’ve been. I can see Layla’s questioning eyes as she watches the exchange between us. I know she probably wonders how they know me and why they look at me with pity in their eyes. If I want to protect her and find out why the hell she was attacked tonight and who was responsible, I need her to trust me. And I know the only way I can go about doing that is to be honest with her about the kind of person I used to be. Hell, maybe even still am. She needs to know what she’s getting into with me because looking at her right now, with her chin held high and determination on her face as she relives every moment of her attack, I know I’m done for when it comes to this woman. She’s gotten under my skin, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to remove her. I can’t walk away and I sure as shit can’t ignore whatever this is between us. The only way I can figure that out and what happened to her tonight, is to stick to her like glue. And after dancing close to her and holding her in my arms, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now. I just need to convince her of that.

  Ray Bergin holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and pressing it against his black eye while he waits for his call to be answered.

  The last couple of calls he made on the cell phone number he was given went unanswered, so he decides to call on a number he knows won’t be ignored.

  “What the hell are you doing calling me on this number?”

  Ray rolls his eyes and walks out of the kitchen, flopping down on an old ripped couch in the corner of the living room in his trailer.

  “Gee, no hello?” he asks with a laugh as he picks up the remote and flips through the channels until he finds a good soft core porn movie to watch.

  “What do you want?” his contact on the other end asks in an angry whisper.

  “It seems the cell number you gave me doesn’t work. Imagine that?”

  An indignant huff sounds through the line. “I must have given you the wrong number. Just don’t ever call me here again. Someone else could have answered and then we would both be fucked.”

  Ray’s blood boils as he listens to the shit coming out of this person’s mouth.

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not the one going behind someone’s back who trusts me and living the high life while doing it. I just spent the last twenty-four months in prison and live in a shit hole trailer. I ain’t got nothin’ to lose, and you got plenty. It would do you good to remember that.”

  Ray turns up the volume on the two chicks going down on each other and lets his words sink in for a few minutes while he enjoys a little girl-on-girl action.

  “Fine, you made your point. Now make another one. Why the hell are you calling me?”

  “Just figured I’d check in and make sure the job was done to your satisfaction,” Ray replies distractedly a
s he cocks his head and focuses on the television. He sets the remote down next to him and eases his body lower on the couch so he can put his feet up on the milk crates he uses as a coffee table.

  “You went a little overboard, don’t you think? I told you to scare her, not beat the shit out of her,” the voice replies.

  “You should have been a little more specific then,” Ray reminds with a laugh.

  “I didn’t pay you to mess up her face.”

  “So far you’ve only paid me for the letters. And what about my face? You didn’t tell me that PI asshole was going to be following her around like a puppy dog. That guy came out of nowhere and almost had me. There better be some extra cash in that envelope tomorrow to make up for my pain and suffering, or else I’ve got a few recorded phone conversations and emails the press might be very interested in listening to.”

  Ray throws the now-melted bag of peas to the end of the couch and smiles to himself when he hears nervous, rapid breathing on the other end of the line.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I said I’d pay you and I will. I don’t know what the hell Brady Marshall was doing at that club tonight. It’s obvious that slut already has him wrapped around her little finger. He’s a drunk and one more tragedy away from putting a gun in his mouth. That’s the only reason he was hired. It looks good to the public, but he’s too busy wallowing in his own misery to figure anything out. Still, you damn well better be covering your tracks. And I think after tomorrow, your services won’t be needed anymore.”

  Ray grinds his teeth in anger. He doesn’t let anyone talk to him this way. He’s killed people in the past for a lot less, and right now, he’s had enough of the pompous, I’m-better-than-you act.

  “You and I have known each other for quite some time now. You should know that I don’t take orders from anyone, especially someone like you. Now that I’ve had a chance to get up close and personal to little miss Layla, I don’t think I’m anywhere near finished with her yet,” Ray says, his cock swelling in his pants—a combination of the movie and thoughts of Layla Carlysle and her hot little body that he had pressed up against him tonight.

  “What do you mean you’re not finished? I paid you to write a few letters and give her a little scare. That’s it.”

  “Didn’t we already go over this? I haven’t gotten paid for my services from tonight. We’ll see how much of a bonus I get tomorrow. Then I’ll decide when and if I’m finished with that pretty little thing.”

  Ray likes the sound of fear and panic in the voice on the other end. It reminds him that regardless of how much money someone has, it’s good to be the person with the upper hand. And he definitely has the upper hand right now.

  “I’m bored with this conversation and I’ve got shit to do. Leave the money in our usual drop-off place by nine tomorrow morning.”

  Ray hangs up the phone and tosses it in the general direction of the bag of peas, a huge smile on his face as he turns up the volume of the movie as loud it will go, slides his hand down the front of his pants, and palms his erection. Thoughts of Layla Carlysle fill his mind as he remembers the way she fought against him.

  She had a hard little body and it made him hot thinking about her working up a sweat to get it that way. She was also soft in all the right places, especially between her legs.

  His cock grows longer and fuller as he slides his hand up and down his shaft, thinking about his fingers sliding between Layla’s legs. Her thighs were clenched tight around his hand, trying to deny him access to that sweet place he’d love to sink his dick into, but he still managed to pry his fingers between those smooth thighs and touch all that creamy, hot skin for a few seconds before she bit him.

  Ray pumps his fist faster and faster, his balls tightening as he thinks about the heat he felt on his fingers and her wet mouth clamped down on his hand. It hurt like a mother fucker, but Ray got off on the pain. He pictures her wrapping that sweet mouth around his cock and bobbing her head up and down on him while he pulls her hair and pushes himself to the back of her throat until she gags and maybe even bites down on him.

  It doesn’t take long before he’s panting and moaning, cursing Layla’s name loudly in the small confines of his trailer as he brings himself to completion.

  He slumps back against the couch with a satisfied smile on his face, hoping the next time he has a few minutes alone with Layla Carlysle, she’ll fight him even harder. It’s always better when they struggle. And Ray can’t wait to feel that little hell cat clawing and scratching at him again.

  “You’re going to be mine someday very soon, princess. I’m not ready for you just yet, but I will be. And you’re going to be ready for me.”

  The scream rips from my throat as I bolt up in bed, kicking the twisted covers off of my legs. I can’t stop screaming and I feel like I can’t breathe. The soft, cool sheets suddenly feel like hot, sweaty hands wrapped around my legs, and I just want them off.

  The door to my room bursts open and slams against the opposite wall as I continue to whimper and try unsuccessfully to get free, the sheets getting more and more tangled with my legs.

  “Get them off! GET THEM OFF!” I scream frantically as I claw at the material.

  Brady is across the room in seconds, climbs onto the bed with me, and cradles my face in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, Layla. Look at me, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

  I shake my head vigorously, tears pooling in my eyes as I remember my attacker’s words, his breath, and the feel of his hands on me.

  “You’re safe now, just breathe.”

  The fight leaves my body, and I close my eyes, sagging forward until my head is resting against his chest.

  His bare chest.

  “I’m going to untangle you from the sheets, okay?” he asks softly, his hand resting on top of my head.

  A chill rolls through my body at Brady's gentle words, and it has nothing to do with my damp, sweaty skin from the dream and everything to do with the man in my bed.

  The dream is momentarily forgotten as he moves away from me. With the bright moonlight streaming in through the window, and the nightlight in my bathroom, I have a clear view of him now. His sculpted chest and stomach tightens with the movement of his arms as he starts pulling my legs out of the tangled mess of sheets. The only thing he wears is a pair of drawstring sweat pants that hang low on his waist, the deep V between his abs and his hips clearly visible and undeniably mouthwatering.

  “Why are you here?” I ask dumbly as his hand wraps around my ankle and slides one of my legs free so I can finally turn and hang them off the edge of the bed. I ignore the burning on the skin of my leg where he touched me and instead, focus on the fact that I’m barely wearing more than him.

  “I heard you screaming from downstairs.”

  My thin, small, purple tank top doesn't leave much to the imagination so I cross my arms over my braless chest and try to calm my breathing but realize it's pointless because I’m wearing an equally revealing pair of matching boy shorts.

  I look up at him in confusion. “What?’

  He chuckles and reaches over, running his fingers through my hair. It's still damp from the shower I took before bed to try and scrub the feel of that disgusting man’s hands off of me.

  “You asked what I was doing here. I heard you screaming. You scared the shit out of me with those lungs on you.”

  I reach up with one hand and rub my temple, the beginning of a headache forming after the events of tonight and the awful dream.

  “No, I mean, what are you doing here. In my house. In the middle of the night, like…that,” I stutter, my hand waving in his general direction.

  Brady looks down at himself and then back up to me, raising one eyebrow.

  “Well, I usually sleep in the buff, but when I heard you scream, I didn’t have time to throw much else on. Is this bothering you?” he asks with a smirk on his full lips.

  Full, kissable lips. />
  Shut up, Layla.

  “As for why I’m here, I didn’t feel right leaving when that guy is still out there. I’m going to stick around until he’s caught just to be on the safe side.”

  My arms fall to my sides, and I turn and stare at him in shock, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping open.

  “You can’t stay here. I mean, it’s nice of you to offer and all, but I have a brand new security system. And Finn lives in the cabin right behind me.”

  And you being this close to me twenty-four seven when all I can think about is licking your stomach is NOT good. Not good at all.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not negotiating this with you. I was hired to do a job, and I’m not going to slack off. What happened tonight should have never happened, and I need to find out why it did. I can’t do that if I’m constantly worried about your safety by being elsewhere,” he explains.

  Would he really think about me and worry about me if he wasn’t here? Gaaaah, focus! You CANNOT have this man living with you.

  Before I can continue the argument, my eyes zero in on the tattoo I noticed when we went on our run all those weeks ago. Now that he isn’t wearing a shirt, I can see the black inked words that flow in cursive script across his upper bicep. Without thinking, I reach out and run my fingers over the words.

  “I will never forget,” I read aloud in a low whisper.

  Brady’s jaw clenches as I finish running my fingertips over the words and look up at his face.

  “What won’t you forget?” I ask him, looking back and forth between his eyes.

  He swallows and wets his lips, and I can’t help but stare at his mouth when he opens it to speak.

  “Friends, family, all the people I’ve let down,” he speaks softly.

  I shift my eyes away from his mouth and wonder about his words. This is the most he’s opened up to me since that day in the woods and I want more. I want so much more. I don’t want him to shut down by asking more questions, though, so I change the subject.