She thought she had been until yesterday, when her mother had come into her room and shifted everything out of balance. Shifted? No, it was more like ripped the rug right out from underneath her, shattering her new existence and threatening to send her back into a hellish nightmare.
Nicole pushed through the open doors and blinked against the bright sun reflecting back at her from the sidewalk, pausing long enough to dig her sunglasses from the front pocket of her backpack. Head down, she focused on moving, her steps brisk and certain as she headed toward the bus stop. Even if the buses were running late—which they usually were—she would still be at work early today. Maybe Tony would let her start her shift early. And if not, she could go into the back and look through the pictures on her camera, start thinking about how she’d arrange and enhance and play with them. It didn’t matter that she’d probably do something completely different once she loaded them into the computer program. Just the act of thinking about what to do with them soothed her, like some kind of meditation or therapy.
And it would keep her from thinking about tomorrow, keep her from worrying and wondering what to do. Part of her thought it would be better if she cancelled, or if she just didn’t show up.
Except Mat was picking her up at her mother’s and the last thing Nicole wanted was for her mom to meet him. Not after yesterday, not after all the things her mother had said, not when her betrayal still stung. The idea of her mom cornering Mat, of interrogating him and maybe saying the wrong thing—saying too much—filled her with dread. And she knew that was exactly what would happen, especially after yesterday, after her mom had brought up Donnie, had told her she needed a man to take care of her.
“No, Mom. I don’t need a man to take care of me.” She muttered the words between clenched teeth, anger and shame filling her at the memory of the conversation. Isn’t that what caused Nicole’s problems in the first place? Isn’t that what caused all of her mom’s problems, even now? Always relying on someone else. Trusting and depending on someone else. Falling into the trap of thinking she couldn’t do it on her own, that she was defined by the man she was with.
No. Never again. Maybe her mother would always think that way, would never find a way out of that trap, but not Nicole. She’d learned her lesson—the hard way. Never again.
“Never. Never. Never.” Nicole kicked at a piece of discarded brick in the middle of the sidewalk then winced when it hit her toe. It was exactly what she deserved for not paying attention, for acting before thinking. She needed to stop that, needed—
“I guess you’re finally losing it.”
The voice stopped her cold and she took a step back. Her heart pounded in her chest and she forced herself to take a deep breath, to breathe normally and not react. But that wasn’t possible, not when her eyes met those of the man standing so close to the curb, leaning against the beat-up car parked there. How had she not seen him? Not noticed him standing there, waiting?
His pale eyes drifted down her body then back up. Slow, appreciative, meaningful. Menacing. Nicole fisted her hands around the strap of her backpack, wishing it was an iron shield instead of nothing more than a bag made of worn nylon. She took another step back then cursed herself, her fear, her reaction.
Donnie laughed, the sound harsh and cold. He straightened and stepped away from the old car, coming closer. Nicole took another step back, her body on high alert, ready to turn and run. But Donnie stopped, a flat smile splitting his narrow face, his eyes never leaving her. Like he was waiting for her to do something, anticipating her running away. Would he chase her? Or would he just taunt her? Play with her like a predator played with its prey?
Would anyone notice? Would anyone try to help her? She looked around, quickly studying the few people moving along the sidewalk. Nobody paid attention to them, nobody looked their way. Would they keep walking if she screamed? Or would someone stop and help?
No, they wouldn’t. Not here, not now. In an hour or so, when traffic got heavier, when there were more people around—maybe then. Maybe. But not now.
Nicole swallowed back her apprehension, hoping her fear and worry didn’t show on her face. No weakness. If Donnie saw weakness, he’d be all over it. She lifted her chin and stared at him, her eyes narrowed behind her dark glasses. Could he see them? Did it matter?
He laughed again and stepped onto the curb, coming one step closer. He ran one hand through his shaggy blond hair, pushing it off his forehead. She could see the grease stains on his hands, the dirt and grime under his sharp, ragged nails. A few years ago she had convinced herself that was a good sign, that a man who worked with his hands would be strong, caring. That a man who worked with his hands would never shy away from work.
She had been so naïve to think that, at least when it came to Donnie. The last few years had been educational, but an education that came with a high price. And she knew now that there was a difference between men who worked with their hands—hardworking men—and men who simply pretended. Men who used their hands for something besides work.
Men like Donnie, who only pretended to work, who did just enough to get by and sometimes not even that much. Men whose hands were more comfortable folded around a cold can of cheap beer instead of a wrench or tool. Men whose hands were quick to lash out, to punish simply because there was nothing else to do.
Maybe Nicole hadn’t exactly been innocent and naïve all those years ago, when she first thought herself in love with the tough rebellious young man. But she’d grown up since then, had learned so much—at a cost to herself that could never be repaid.
She stood a little straighter, her eyes still narrowed on the man in front of her. It hadn’t taken him long to lose the appeal she had first noticed, to lose the charm that had reeled her in so quickly and completely. For her to learn that he wasn’t a way out of the trap that still held her mother firmly in its grip. Looking at him now, she didn’t understand what she had ever seen in him.
He wasn’t tall, maybe only an inch or two taller than she was, and his clothes still hung on his lean frame. Too loose, too worn and baggy. The stained jeans fell below his hips, the frayed waistband low enough that she could see the worn elastic waistband of his washed-out boxers. The sleeves of his dark blue t-shirt were rolled up, exposing the blurred lines of a cheap tattoo that ran across the pale skin of his upper arm. That same tattoo continued up the side of his neck, disappearing into the shaggy length of blonde hair that fell around his face. The shirt was ripped near the hem, like it had been caught in something, and a yellowish stain smeared the front of the shirt, just in the middle of his chest.
If she was seeing him now for the first time, her instincts would warn her to move away from him, to hurry her steps and not look at him, not call attention to herself. But she did know him, knew what lurked behind those dark eyes, and her instincts were screaming even louder for her to move away.
She tightened her hand around the strap once more and glanced to the right. The bus stop was just up the street, less than fifty feet away. But there was no sign of the bus. Not yet. Nicole clenched her jaw and turned back to Donnie.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say, you know that.”
“No, Nikki, I don’t.” He took a step closer and reached out with his hand. Nicole stepped back, so quickly she nearly twisted her ankle in the heeled sandals. Donnie dropped his hand and shoved it into his front pocket, but not before she saw it curl into a fist.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want the divorce.”
No! Her mind screamed the denial as an icy cold blast of fear and anxiety shot through her, paralyzing her lungs. No, he couldn’t be saying that. Why? Why would he say that?
Agonizing seconds dragged by as she tried to remember to breathe. She sucked in a deep breath, a hissing sound that echoed in her ears. Another second, then another, as the world righted and reality finally sunk in.
It didn’t matter what he wanted.
It was too late. It had been too late months ago.
“It doesn’t matter, Donnie. You signed the papers. The divorce was finalized two months ago.”
“I don’t care. I changed my mind.” He moved again, one foot slightly raised like he was going to step closer. Nicole stiffened but didn’t step back. Not now, not anymore. She lifted her chin higher and shook her head.
“No, Donnie. It’s over. Leave me alone.” She turned, wanting nothing more than to leave, to never see him again. Seeing him last week, seeing him just now, was more than she wanted—more than she had expected. It was over. It had been over before it even started.
The rumble of a diesel engine echoed behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the bus, thankful that it was actually on time today. Movement caught her eye just as Donnie’s hand wrapped around her left arm. His grip was tight, biting into the soft flesh of her upper arm, squeezing. She gasped and tried to step away but he pulled her closer, causing her to stumble. Anger colored his face a blotchy red and his mouth curled in a snarl.
“Don’t walk away from me, bitch.”
“Let me go!” And God, how she hated her voice, hated the quivering pleading, the weak demand that caused him to laugh. His fingers tightened even more when she tried to pull her arm from his grasp and she winced.
“It’s not over, Nikki. It’ll never be over. You’re mine. You hear me?”
“No, Donnie. I’m not.” She gritted her teeth against the pain, tasted iron as she bit her tongue when he shook her. No, not again. This couldn’t be happening again. He didn’t have power over her, didn’t control her anymore. She’d earned her freedom, thought she’d never have to go through this again.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
The shout was too far away but still enough of a distraction. Donnie’s painful grip loosened and Nicole ripped her arm from his hand. Her flesh burned, a new pain different from the bruising grip but she didn’t care. Too late, she brought her knee up and jammed it into his groin. The breath left him in a pained groan and he doubled over but Nicole didn’t trust him to stay that way for long. She ran toward the bus, her steps unsteady in the heeled sandals.
An older man, his dark weathered face creased with concern, stood next to the bus, his hand outstretched. Nicole grabbed it and stepped past him, her gaze focused only on the steps in front of her as she climbed onto the bus.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She released his hand then looked behind her, expecting to see Donnie chasing after her. But there was only the old man, his dark rheumy eyes full of concern as he watched her.
“I’m fine,” she repeated. She took a deep breath and tried to smile, tried to act like she wasn’t shaking, like she wasn’t terrified. “Thank you.”
The man muttered something, his voice lost in the rumbling of the engine. He looked toward the back of the bus once more and said something else, then shook his head and climbed onto the bus. Nicole turned away, her eyes lowered, and found a seat away from the handful of other people onboard. She dropped into it then leaned her head against the window, heedless of the smeared fingerprints and grime that coated the glass.
Deep breaths. Over and over. Again. But oh God, they weren’t working. She was still shaking, adrenaline and fear whirling together in her stomach until she thought she might be sick. But she couldn’t be sick. Not here, not now.
A few more deep breaths. In and out. Slow, steady.
Oh God, why was Donnie suddenly back? It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t seen him in over a year, why now? Money. He must need money. That had to be it. Had to be why he’d shown up at her mother’s place with his story and lying charm. Why else would he suddenly track her down?
Nicole opened her eyes and stared out the window without seeing anything. She was still shaking, even with her hands clasped tightly together. The sudden urge to laugh seized her, an insane urge she had to fight off. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement but one of desperation. And recrimination.
She was a hypocrite. She didn’t need a man? Yeah. She could tell herself that all she wanted, but it was nothing but a lie.
Because when Donnie had grabbed her, when his fingers were digging into her flesh and the man called out, she had thought, hoped—for one fleeting second—that it had been Mat. That Mat had shown up again, that Mat would save her, just like he had the other day without knowing it.
The realization scared her, almost as much as the encounter with Donnie. If she was so convinced she didn’t need a man to take care of her, why had she been hoping it had been Mat who was there, offering to help her?
And why was she suddenly afraid that made her more like her mom than she wanted to admit?
Chapter Eleven
Mat led the way through the growing crowd, his hand resting lightly in the middle of Nicole’s back. Tension rolled from her, in the way she held herself so stiffly, in the way she quickened her steps. It was almost as if she wanted to get away from him, as if she didn’t want him to touch her. Maybe she didn’t, maybe she just didn’t know how to tell him. Which was just wrong. No woman should be afraid to tell a man to leave her alone, to not touch her.
Mat swallowed back a sigh and dropped his hand then readjusted the pile in his arms. An oversized duffle bag holding two thick blankets and sunscreen and some towels, a small cooler bag with drinks and snacks, Nicole’s backpack, two sweatshirts for later in case it got chilly. Although as hot it was already, with the humidity settling around them like a heavy weight, he didn’t think that would happen.
Nicole stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hidden behind those large sunglasses she always wore. Her shoulders were still stiff, her jaw clenched just the tiniest bit.
“You should let me help carry something.”
“No, I got it.” He flashed her a smile, hoping it would put her at ease. She pulled on her lower lip, the action sending a wave of heated awareness straight through him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Nicole was tense and worried about something, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but his dick apparently didn’t care. Well, his dick would just have to wait.
Nicole stopped chewing on her lower lip then turned away, her steps slowing until he caught up. She’d been this way ever since he picked her up an hour ago: tense, a little nervous, not very talkative. At first he thought it was nothing more than normal first-date nerves. Hell, he had his own share of them himself, because this really was their first date. Never mind that they’d already slept together, already had sex, that didn’t count. Not as a date, anyway. Not to him.
So yeah, he’d chalked it up to nerves. At least at first. But it didn’t take long to realize there was something else going on, something else worrying her.
“Have you ever been to one of these summer concerts?”
Nicole shook her head then reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No. I’ve never really been out this far.”
This far? She made it sound like they had been driving forever, to a different state or even country. But Oregon Ridge Park wasn’t even quite an hour from where she lived in the city, just off I-83. It was situated in northern Baltimore County, a nature park of rolling hills and scenic woodsy landscape. The park hosted concerts during the summer, complete with a symphony orchestra and fireworks. It was a great place to come and just hang out, relax with friends or family, enjoy the outdoors and music and fireworks.
It was the last weekend of July, a bright gorgeous day filled with sunshine, which meant that the crowds would probably be a little bigger and get here even earlier—which is why Mat had picked Nicole up so early. He wanted to find a decent parking space and a good place to drop their things. Some place close enough without being in the middle of everything. Looking around at all the cars and people, he wasn’t sure that was going to happen.
“Well, hopefully you have fun.” And God, what a stupid thing to say. He should just keep his mouth shut until his mind actuall
y caught up. From the look Nicole gave him, just a quick expressionless glance over her shoulder, she probably thought the same thing. Yeah, he was certainly impressing her.
He didn’t say anything else, just caught up to her then took the lead as they climbed the steps to the lodge. Mat waited for her at the top of the steps, wondering how her feet weren’t killing her in those heeled platform sandals. They had some kind of leather strapping that wound up her calf, bringing to mind ancient women warriors. And shit, he really needed to stop thinking like that or else he’d never survive this date.
He gave her a small smile when she reached his side then led the way through the building and out the back. Just as he thought: the hillside was already getting crowded. He reached behind him and grabbed Nicole’s hand without thinking, wanting to keep her close as they walked through the throng of people milling around. Her hand was ice cold, a little clammy, and he didn’t miss the sudden tensing of her fingers. He dropped her hand and turned to look at her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Are you sure? Your hand is ice cold.” And she was wearing a light jacket, made out of some kind of thin material with a high waistline. Mat wasn’t sure how useful it would be if it was really cold but it had long sleeves, which struck him as odd. Was she getting sick?
Nicole shrugged, not quite facing him, then finally nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”
Mat wasn’t sure he believed her but he wasn’t going to push. He hesitated, then reached for her hand again. And again her fingers tensed in his hold, but only for a few seconds. She looked up at him, studying him from behind those large sunglasses, and finally relaxed, at least a little bit.
He offered her a smile then headed into the crowd, weaving through the groups of people. There was a prime spot—or what he thought was prime, anyway—about a hundred feet to their right, just a little way up the hill. It was close enough so they wouldn’t have to hike too far to reach the restrooms or to grab food and drinks from the different vending trucks if they wanted. And it was far enough away and off to the side so they wouldn’t be crowded in later. At least, he hoped not.
Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) Page 11