Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)

by Aly Martinez

  Liv suddenly appeared, sliding up against my side. “Well, this looks pleasant.”

  I draped an arm around her waist and squeezed her hip, never dragging my eyes off her dad.

  “Not to spoil this testosterone party or anything, but I’m exhausted and Mom and I decided we’re all going to Fleet’s for champagne brunch in the morning.”

  Leo and I both groaned. Fleet’s champagne brunch consisted of pussy gourmet food that would no doubt lull my taste buds into a coma. Women loved it though. Eliza had flipped when Till had taken us all there for her birthday one year. It was expensive as fuck, and Flint and I had still had to stop at a burger joint when we’d left to keep from starving.

  I tossed Leo a commiserating smirk. “I’ll pay for Fleet’s—you pay for wings on the way home?”

  He extended a hand my way. “Works for me. We’ll go over security plans in the morning. Bring your checkbook.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  After a quick shake, Liv and I set about saying our goodbyes. Ten minutes later, I was following her back to our apartment.

  And then to my bed.

  “Fuck,” I cursed. Reaching down, I brushed back her long, brown hair, which was curtaining off my view of her face. Her mouth was wide and filled with my cock.

  I hated not being able to see all of her, but she was wearing one of my T-shirts. Rarely would I complain about such a sight. However, I wanted to see her large breasts swaying every time she glided up to my tip. And I wanted to feel them naked and pressed against my thigh as she took me to the back of her throat.

  “Give me your pussy,” I ordered.

  She hummed her refusal, and my balls tightened from the sensation.

  “Not until I’m inside you,” I growled only for it to turn into a groan when she raked her nails down my abs, not stopping until she was gripping my nuts.

  Staring up at me through her lashes, she silently dared me to come in her mouth.

  She’d been playing this torturous game for at least a half hour.

  Each time I’d refused, she’d worked me harder.

  I’d been gentle when we’d first gotten home. After the shit night we’d had, I’d wanted nothing more than to bury myself inside her and forget the cloud of chaos that had settled over us. However, she’d been attacked while leaving work. I didn’t think mounting her from behind in the shower would have been appreciated.

  Liv had proved me wrong though. As soon as we’d crawled into bed, she’d shifted directly between my thighs and sucked me until I’d gotten hard.

  Now, she was about to suck me empty.

  My hand fisted in the back of her hair. “Shit. You win,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, holding her head down as my cock fired off in her mouth.

  Her hand found the base of my shaft, stroking the length her mouth couldn’t accommodate.

  Inventing new curse words, I came hard down the back of her throat. She hummed in pleasure as if she were getting off on nothing more than swallowing my release—the idea only made me come harder.

  As my body relaxed beneath her, she licked from base to tip, cleaning every inch while I jerked and twitched against her tongue—the sensations becoming too much.

  I was still a panting mess when she finally crawled up the bed and rested her head on my shoulder.

  “Jesus Christ, woman.” Gripping her jaw, I guided her mouth to mine.

  She giggled against my lips, purring when I palmed her breast over the cotton.

  “I figured you needed to relax tonight.”

  “You figured right, but there was no reason we couldn’t relax together.”

  She kissed me again, nipping at my bottom lip as she pulled away to sign, “Are you complaining?”

  I returned the nip. “Not at all.”

  “Good. Then go to sleep. You have to be up early to go to the gym before brunch, and I’d like to be thoroughly ravaged before you go.”

  “I could thoroughly ravage you now.”

  “You could but then I’d have to take another shower before bed, and you’d feel the need to join me because, for some reason, nothing makes you hornier than running water, and then it would be, like, two in the morning before we got back in bed. And I’d be exhausted at brunch tomorrow, so when my dad asked why, I’d have to tell him that you spent the night fucking me. Then I’d have to add him killing you to my growing list of murders I need to prevent. So, really, it’s best if you just go to sleep and do dirty things in the morning.”

  I stared at her for a moment then burst into laughter.

  “Golden” Garrett Davenport had ruined my night. I’d spent half of it in a fit of rage, willing to take out my own brother if it meant I got my hands on him for even one minute.

  Yet, somehow, I was going to fall asleep sated, with Liv safe in my arms, a smile on my face, and an overwhelming sense of contentment filling my veins.

  And, if I had any say over it, this would happen…

  Every. Single. Day.

  My entire body went stiff, and Eliza’s eyes grew impossibly wider as he roughly shoved, sending me scrambling forward. Just as quickly, he grabbed Eliza and dragged her to the door.

  “No!” I jumped to my feet.

  He had no fucking business even talking to her, but I’d kill him before I let him hurt her.

  “Get your fucking hands off her! You’re not taking her anywhere!” I rushed forward.

  I heard Eliza screaming with every step, but adrenaline fueled me.

  She was ours. I wouldn’t let him have her.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He spun Eliza to the side just as I got close, sending her crashing to the ground.

  I landed a blow to his side, but his hand folded around my throat and the cold, metal butt of his gun landed hard against my face. Pain exploded as someone dimmed the lights.

  I felt my body crash onto the floor, but then everything changed.

  I wasn’t thirteen.

  I wasn’t in Vegas.

  And it wasn’t Frankie dragging out Eliza.

  Right before my eyes, Liv appeared in Davenport’s arms.

  Her long, dark hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tipped a gun to her temple.

  Her big, brown eyes were wide and filled with a fear I had never seen before—and would never be able to forget.

  Her mouth opened, but it wasn’t her voice that came out. Well, at least, not the one I’d come to know. It was the sound of twelve-year-old Liv screaming from behind a closet door.

  And it was like a knife to my gut—only worse.

  “Get up, Page!” Davenport taunted, pressing the gun deeper into her flesh.

  I couldn’t move though. I was paralyzed, unable to even blink.

  Liv’s scream continued in one long continuous cry, and Davenport laughed wildly as I sat immobile on the ground.

  A flash of movement caught my attention, drawing my eyes away from Liv. Then a weight so heavy that I thought my chest would break hit me. I saw Mia’s body seizing on the floor, her hands flailing wildly until one landed in a pool of blood. My heart lurched as I followed it up to Flint’s lifeless body. His cold, dead stare somehow managed to remain filled with quiet disappointment.

  My lungs burned, and regardless how hard I fought, I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Liv’s scream suddenly cut off, snapping my attention back to her. She was still being held captive in Davenport’s arms, only now the fear was gone and a tender smile covered her beautiful adult face. Her voice was still that of Liv the child as she uttered the familiar words, “I’m safe with you, Quarry.”

  Davenport pulled the trigger.

  Drenched in sweat, I shot up in bed. My stomach rolled, and bile crept up my throat. I scrambled over Liv and into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before throwing up.

  I was vaguely aware of the light coming on and then a cool, damp washcloth being pressed against the back of my neck.

  “I’m safe with you, Quarry,” echoed through my deaf ears.
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br />   My stomach heaved again. Oh, God.

  Closing my eyes, I attempted to breathe, but visions of my nightmare projected on the backs of my eyelids made it impossible.

  I had a minor success and managed to stop puking. Shifting back against the side of the bathtub, I took the cloth from her hand and used it to wipe my mouth.

  Liv squatted in front of me. Just the sight of her opened my airway and breathed me back to life.

  “Feeling sick?” she signed.

  “I… Fuck.” I gave up and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into a hard hug.

  She came willingly, even straddling my lap to allow me more contact. I was naked, and she was only wearing my oversized T-shirt, but I wasn’t sure my cock would ever get hard again after a nightmare like that.

  She let me hold her for several minutes before she finally leaned away. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I answered curtly, tucking her face into my neck and ending any further discussion.

  Fucking hell. What had just happened inside my head?

  I closed my eyes, but the vision of that gun at her temple leveled me and caused my stomach to heave again. She scrambled off my lap, but I didn’t move back to the toilet. Nor did I close my eyes again.

  Staring blankly up at the ceiling, I felt her dab another cool washcloth across my forehead.

  Lifting her hands into my line of sight, she asked, “You want me to get you something to drink?”

  I wanted a lobotomy.

  I shook my head at her question.

  “You want to try to get back in bed? I can get a trash can in case you get sick again.”

  No. I never wanted to go get in that bed again for the rest of my life. Insomnia had never been so appealing. That dream…

  What time is it? I silently signed, because I didn’t trust my voice.

  She leaned out of the bathroom door to find the clock. “Five.”

  Gripping the tub, I pushed myself to my feet. “I think I’m just gonna go ahead in to the gym. Get a head start on things.”

  She pressed a hand to my chest. “You just woke up puking. You can’t go to the gym. Call in sick.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I just…” I stalled, not willing to tell her that I’d just watched my biggest fears play out in my head.

  She looked up at me expectantly.

  “I guess I ate something bad last night. I’ll survive.”

  At the sink, I turned the water on, splashing it on my face and then pasting up my toothbrush.

  I participated in the rest of the conversation only by watching her hands sign in the mirror.

  “I ate the exact same thing you did last night.”

  I shrugged.

  “Why don’t you just lie down and give it an hour or so? You aren’t supposed to be at the gym until seven.”

  I shrugged again before rinsing my mouth and then moving to my closet.

  When I opened the door, Christmas Tree Cakes rained from the top. “Shit,” I mumbled. “Any chance you can move those to your closet?” I bit out, my fears shifting to anger for no other reason than I didn’t know how to deal with it.

  She was trying to catch my attention as I swirled around the room, but I couldn’t slow down.

  I was desperate to get out of there.

  Away from her.

  Away from the memories of failing her.

  And, because of that, facing my greatest fear of all—losing her.

  Less than a minute later, I’d tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed my keys and hearing aids, pecked her on the lips, and swiftly left.

  “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” I whispered to myself as I heard the deadbolt on our front door click from the outside.

  Quarry was full of shit. He hadn’t eaten something bad the night before. But what I couldn’t figure out was why he was acting like I had something to do with his getting sick. At first, he’d clung to me so tight that I could barely breathe. Then, after that, he had been so standoffish that it was as if he’d decided I’d poisoned his food.

  I had still been signing to him as he rushed out the door—a brisk kiss on the lips my only acknowledgement.

  So freaking weird.

  I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, stuck in my ponderings of the great mystery known as Quarry Page, when I decided sleep was a lost cause. The sun was still well below the horizon, and only the soft, white rays of a nightlight illuminated the room.

  Quarry had purchased it for his room a few weeks earlier. I hadn’t asked him to buy it. Nor had I asked him to buy and sync a secondary iPod just to keep on a docking station on his nightstand. He’d done it though. Because he’d worried I might be scared. Of course, he hadn’t come right out and told me that. But I knew.

  I was a twenty-three-year-old woman who still slept with music and a nightlight. It wasn’t exactly my most redeeming quality, but Quarry had never made me feel like it was a flaw, either. He knew all about my past. He’d once used it against me. But, most recently, he’d used his knowledge to make me feel safer than ever before.

  An odd feeling slid over me—it wasn’t exactly a chill, but it still made me shiver.

  If I really thought about it, over the years, Quarry had always taken care of me.

  Even while he had been with Mia, he’d still made me a priority in his life. Sure, he had done the mandatory job of taking care of his girlfriend’s best friend when the three of us had hung out. But it had always been more than that. He had been my friend just as much as Mia had. I hadn’t been the third wheel or the annoying girl who wouldn’t give them time alone. He’d gone out of his way to spend time with me. Maybe not alone, out of respect for Mia, but he’d made sure I was never left out. He’d bought me the required birthday and Christmas gifts, but he’d also changed my tire when I got a flat and taken me to the dentist when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, and as a newly (practically) widowed twenty-year-old, he had opened his spare bedroom to me because I’d been too scared to go home.

  He’d been handling me with care my entire life.

  As hard as it was to admit, I had to let go of the past with Quarry. His actions the day he’d locked me in the closet had been those of a shattered child.

  Unfortunately, it had still changed us though.

  But not all change had to be bad.

  Maybe we needed to change.

  Maybe I needed to change.

  I just didn’t know how. I hadn’t exactly been born into a life where I could afford to trust blindly. My mother had been a druggy, and her boyfriends, pimps, dealers—whatever they were—had been cruel. None of them had hit me, leaving scars for the world to see. No, their weapons of choice had been much subtler: words.

  Eighteen years later, I could still hear the detailed threats of what would happen to me if I came out of my room at night.

  Those were the scars my childish body had never had to bear. Yet they had been so deeply etched into my subconscious that my adult mind still couldn’t process the fear I’d felt back then.

  I’d told everyone that I was afraid of the silence because of the night my mother had died.

  It hadn’t been a lie.

  It hadn’t been the complete truth though, either.

  I was terrified of being alone.

  Scary things had happened while I’d been alone in that bedroom.

  Her drug-induced, manic laughter.

  Her screams—some in pain, some in pleasure.

  The worst had been when the sounds would disappear though.

  Was it over or just beginning?

  The silence.

  The only defense mechanism I’d had at that age was to spend as much time as possible at our neighbor’s house. She wasn’t particularly a kind old woman, but she adored reading to me from her Bible. Her lessons were usually only good to inform me of the terrible sins my mother committed each day. I could overlook that though. I just liked the company. The interaction. The safety.

  She quickly took it upon herself to teach me how
to read from her Bible. I hated it, but for those hours, I’d sit next to her in a chair, forcing myself to sound out words I didn’t understand, just so I didn’t have to go home.

  After my mother died, my struggle to trust only amplified. So much so that even a relationship with my father was difficult at first. He was so nice to me, but I feared the moment that would change. I did the only thing I could think of: I showed him a little girl who was easy to love, not the troubled tomboy that existed below the surface.

  When Quarry entered my life, he wasn’t a man. And I immediately opened myself up to him. In hindsight, my heart had been too fragile to give to an equally troubled ten-year-old boy. But maybe that’s exactly why I’d given it to him in the first place. The quiet storm brewing in those hazel eyes had been so familiar that I’d instantly felt a connection.

  And there I was, lying in his bed, staring at his ceiling, after he had spent years trying to put me back together, most recently by offering me the few remaining shards of his own heart to fill in the lost pieces of my own.

  In many ways, I was still that lost little girl—too scared to trust but too terrified of being alone.

  I closed my eyes and allowed the countless memories of our past to filter through me.

  All the times he’d been there for me, even when he, himself, had been barely breathing.

  All the times the lights had been left on and the music had been left blaring all night long.

  And, last but not least, I finally realized that maybe I really had always trusted Quarry Page, no matter what I’d told myself. I’d been hiding my feelings and guarding myself my entire life. I shouldn’t have given my heart to Quarry the boy. But, without question, I was ready to give it back to the man.

  And then I promptly had a panic attack.

  But, when that was over, I threw the covers back, got dressed, and set out to the gym to watch my sexy boxer work out before officially introducing him to my father as my boyfriend.

  The gym was still dark when I pulled up. I drove around to the back parking lot only to find it vacant. My watch read six a.m. Even if he had stopped to grab some breakfast instead of his usual protein shake at the gym, he should have been there. I snagged my phone off the passenger’s seat and sent him a quick text.