Laying a hand on my stomach I take in a breath, and punch the dirt with the other, forgetting about my bad arm, and the disgusting, itching, bite wounds. I curse under my breath. Pain. I’ll take pain over whatever the fuck it is that Presley is making me feel. Love is forbidden. Not that I think I’m in love, but it has to be something in the same category to have me twisted up, and confused in this sort of way. She’s not my type at all. Then it hits me. Maybe Raya never really was my type. I couldn’t say for sure if I ever was actually in love with her. They used her likeness in my training because she was my first semi-real relationship. What if it didn’t work, not all the way at least? I just hadn’t encountered someone who makes me feel this way, until now.
How can it be when most things about Presley infuriate me? I catch my breath and watch her shadow move across her bedroom window. Sometimes you have to do things not because you want to, but because they’re right. I know she’s upset. Beyond upset if I had to guess based on what I know about her. Standing, I begrudgingly move around to her door and knock a few times. I’m drained from this day. From her. When she opens the door, eyes round and shoulders square, I catch a second wind.
“Presley,” I say, voice low. “Why did you leave? I would have taken you home.”
“Too late for that!” She shrieks, moving out of the way so I can come inside. “There’s a crazy bitch with a gun down the street after me. She thinks I’m having sex with her husband, Frank. This place. I can’t believe this place.” She is pulling at her hair while pacing between the kitchen and living room. “Why would I want to have sex with her nasty degenerate husband?” Her words aren’t directed at me. “A shotgun!” She spins to face me as her hands shake by her sides. “I need to call the police. This is too dangerous. What if she comes back?”
Calling the authorities is the last thing she needs to do. I grab her by the wrists, and hate that it gives me a warm sensation. This is a frightening sensation. I have never known this feeling in someone else’s presence. “I just talked to Rayleen. You’re safe. She knows it wasn’t you.”
“That was Rayleen? I didn’t recognize her. That crazy bitch! How did you run into her? I was just outside and didn’t see you.”
I clear my throat. “You weren’t quiet when you left and I ran after you. I was… worried. Because it’s dark out.” What else can I add to make it more convincing? “You were scared about that car.” That seems to work.
Presley pulls out of my grasp and runs her hands up my arms to stop on my biceps. I don’t breathe. I can’t move, I’m paralyzed by her touch. Her gaze locks on my arm, my chest, my other arm, and then seeks out my eyes. “I don’t get it. You were so mad at me. You act like you hate me one second, and then this. You came after me so you must care about me. Which is it?”
My stomach flips and I feel dizzy. How do I answer her when she’s turned my Charge Man mojo off? I feel stripped of my defenses by a mere touch. Terror forces my heart rate to accelerate. I lick my lips after I watch her wet her own. They’re pink, perfectly shaped and the urge to lean over and press mine against hers is warring with common sense. Presley must see the struggle because she pulls her body closer, tightly against mine. My arms are motionless by my side, and I’m thankful they seem to obey logic, because other body parts have a mind of their own. I nearly choke on my words. “A little of both,” I finally reply, shocking myself with blatant honesty. Lying to Rayleen was easy, but looking into Presley’s eyes makes it near impossible to right now.
“Why were you so mad at me?” she asks, blinking her long lashes once before leaning in and up, closer, closer.
I can’t catch my breath, and feeling this out of control makes me angry. “Because I don’t want men touching you, Presley. Men like Frank. The gene pool in Gold Hawke isn’t exactly heavy on quality.”
Her grin is victorious, and self-loathing slips in. I want to say something biting to knock her down from her perch, but I can’t find it in me to lie. “Because you want to touch me?” A simple question with a complicated answer. Her hands move up my arms and land on each side of my neck. A hand on my neck should prompt some sort of fight response, but all her hands do is make my fucking dick even harder than it just was. “And maybe you can’t touch me for whatever reason, but you don’t want other men touching me either. Am I close?”
I let my eyes flutter closed because I’m not sure how much longer I can look at her face without kissing her senseless. Kissing will lead to more. It has to. That’s the only way it will end if I cross the last, threadbare line. Even if I can barely see it, it’s still there. She’s the aggressor. I’ve yet to break code of ethics. “Presley,” I say her name, hoping she knows the word I actually meant was stop, but I’m too weak. I feel like a measuring cup. I’ve been close to her all day long, and I’m overflowing with weakness. I need distance from her to clear my mind.
“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop.” I can feel her words brush across my face. Her sweet breath luring me in like a deadly trap.
I have to work to swallow because my whole body is humming with anticipation. My libido is nearly completely defrosted after years of dormancy, and all I feel is fire. “I don’t want other men touching you,” I repeat. It’s the only safe statement that doesn’t blow this all to bits.
“Do you want to touch me?”
I nod, let my lids open, and meet her eyes—a mistake. “Yes.” Another mistake.
Presley bites her bottom lip. “I’m happy to report that it’s against the rules to touch the dancers at Spankies. It’s eyeballs only. No need to be jealous.” She raises one questioning brow. What reaction does she want?
I pull away enough to read her full expression. “What do you think happens in the back rooms?”
She raises one brow. “You’ve been inside Spankies to know they have back rooms?” Presley gasps. “You’ve been in the back rooms?” Ah, a spark of jealousy stokes the flames.
I roll my eyes, letting irritation tamp down the desire. “Of course not. That place is trashy. There are back rooms at all strip clubs. It’s basic knowledge. I can’t speak for Spankies, but many allow sex for money. A place of this caliber? I wouldn’t doubt they allow full-blown prostitution.” Rage boils when I realize she’s set on this, and her mind is made up. “You’re ready to fuck for cash just to live out your innocent, naked dancing fantasy?”
“Stripping is hardly innocent, and it won’t be a fantasy for much longer. I’m going tomorrow after work to audition.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and untangle myself from her hands. Sitting on the love seat, something hard hits me in the back. Reaching behind me, I pull up a handgun. When I balance it on my palm in front of me, extending it to Presley, she looks like she got caught. “For protection, obviously. The incident with Rayleen surely isn’t the last. I just moved here for God’s sake. I need to start conceal carrying.” An uneasy feeling washes over me when she grabs it from my hand. Unnatural. I am the protector, and I know damn well she shouldn’t have a weapon.
“Do you know how to use it?” I clear my throat. “You shouldn’t have it lying around. Conceal carry probably isn’t a good idea either.” Presley and weapons being in the same vicinity isn’t something I want as her bodyguard nor would my bosses appreciate.
She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “I know how to use it. I wish I didn’t. Before I moved here, I had security,” she says, gasping, and covering her mouth with her free hand. “I mean, my building had security, I didn’t have personal security. The apartment building I lived in had a security guard that buzzed people in.” She’s trying to fix her blunder. “I felt safe. I don’t feel safe in Gold Hawke.” Looking down at the gun she mumbles, “except when I’m with you.”
“Working at a strip club isn’t the picture of safety,” I hiss, clenching my hands into fists. “You must only care about being safe sometimes.” There’s something here, about her feeling safe with me and not knowing I’m her fucking bodyguard.
I’d love to call her out on it, but it doesn’t serve my cause. Especially not now that I’m trying to conceal a boner and my temper at the same time.
“Now that I know you care about me in at least a small capacity, I was hoping you’d come with me when I worked at Spankies. You know, if I even get the dancing job. Even if it’s just for a week. I have to try it. It’s a raunchy pipedream. Be my protector,” she pleads, kneeling in front of me, placing her hands on my knees, looking up at me with big, beautiful eyes. “Please.” She clasps her hands together under her chin.
I groan, leaning back on the uncomfortable couch and locking my hands behind my head. “Why would you ask that of me? You do realize before we were friends, I had a life and other things to do.”
“If you’re too busy, that’s fine. I’m sure I’ll make another friend at Spankies. I just wanted to ask you because you’re the only person I trust.” The irony is I’m also lying to her the most as well.
Her face is close to my dick. Her hands are on my legs. I want her mouth on my cock. Fuck. Where did that thought come from? I stand and turn out of her grasp. “Whatever. Just because you feel safe when you’re with me doesn’t mean you’re actually safe,” I say, opening the front door and peering out. “I’m going to get going. Don’t shoot your eye out with that thing while I sleep, okay? I’ll let the garden die if you don’t make it.”
“How rude.” Presley pouts out her bottom lip. “You’re sure Rayleen isn’t coming back over here tonight? I don’t know why she thought I’d fuck her husband. It really is baffling.”
Grinning, I say, “Because she confused you with Verna. You guys do look the same.”
Her jaw drops. “The old woman who hangs around the General Store? That’s who is having sex with Rayleen’s husband?”
“Yep. You’re the spitting image, too. I get why she went after you.”
Presley picks up a pillow and tosses it at me with her free hand. “Get out, you big ogre. I hope she mistakes you for Frank on your walk back home.”
“She’d never shoot Frank. Don’t you know anything about these people? They play by a fucked-up set of rules.” I lick my lips. “But you know that. I mean, you’re going to be employed at Spankies. They’ll count you as one of the natives. I can’t wait until every man in Gold Hawke is talking about your pussy. Won’t that be fun?”
More wide mouth gaping. “If I didn’t want to kiss you so bad, I’d kill you, Nate Sullivan.” Presley sets the gun down on the counter nearest us. “That was crass,” she says, but I’m stuck on the first part.
Kiss me? Kiss me? Let me out. I need to get out. “I’ll see you in the morning. Lock the door behind me.” I give the last order without thinking. It’s a Charge Man demand, not a friendly request. Closing the door behind me, I don’t pause to even consider smoothing it over. It means at least part of my brain is still functioning in a bodyguard capacity. That’s something I shouldn’t take for granted when my dick is fucking up most everything else. My cell phone ringer startles me from my disjointed thoughts. It’s a work number.
“Sullivan,” I clip, ducking behind her neighbor’s trailer to cut the wind.
My boss clears his throat. “Everything okay?”
I crinkle my brow. “My report was on time,” I counter. “What do you mean?”
“Your tracker has you at the Principal’s place of residence. Late. After the reports over the past few days, and with the suspicious tracking device placed on your vehicle, the program wants even more oversight on your operations.” As if my stomach wasn’t in enough knots, this just adds to the stress. Worse still, I can’t talk to anyone about how I’m feeling without blowing the whole thing to bits.
“I was over at the Principal’s residence to check in. The Principal is safe.” We are trained to never use other descriptors. Only safe or not safe. That’s the only words that matter. “I did a short welfare check as she has expressed concern about being afraid at nighttime. Like I mentioned in my report.” Stick to the details they know and cold hard facts. Nothing extra.
He breathes heavy on the other end of the phone for several seconds and it has me wondering if he’s okay. “I’m afraid there is another reason I’m calling, Nate. It’s not good news. Your cousin Felix isn’t doing well and your parents have requested your presence before he passes.” The second he used my first name, I knew it was something like this.
A million emotions rush through my veins, and tears prick my eyes. “I understand, but…” I was told this already, but hearing it from someone who isn’t a relative makes it that much worse. My mom was the one who called and pleaded with my superiors. I’m sure of it. Asking me wasn’t good enough, she had to force me back to my hometown by calling my boss.
“No buts, I’m sending Gray Henderson to watch your Principal for a couple days so you can say your goodbyes.” I’m going to be punished for this in some way, I’m sure of it. Anytime our real lives interfere with our jobs, we’re penalized in subtle, non-traceable ways.
There is no use arguing. “When?”
“He arrives in two days and has already been debriefed. Gray mentioned landing in your location early to talk to you in person, but don’t worry he won’t interfere with your plans.” There’s a long pause where I think he expects me to object. “You need this time with your family. How long has it been since you’ve been home, Nate?”
Hanging my head, I exhale. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll email you the flight details tomorrow. We’re having issues with another Principal, and I need to make a call.” He hangs up without another word.
The walk back to my house is slow and quiet. Rayleen and her shotgun don’t make an appearance and I’m almost sorry. It would be a distraction from thinking about my real life. About Felix and how bad things must be. As I enter my cabin, the thought of another person guarding Presley hits and makes me wildly uncomfortable. They won’t know her like I do. Gray will know her on paper, like all the people at headquarters know her. For me, being close, I’m able to help predict her unpredictability. If something happens to her while I’m gone, I’m not sure I’ll get over it. Another mistake, another black mark on my record, but I know it’s more than that now. I have feelings for the woman.
The only thing I can do is make sure my reports are detailed and accurate so Gray can study them on his downtime. He won’t want to be close to her like I am. Just being a substitute, he’ll lurk in the shadows and hopefully be good enough that he doesn’t spook Presley into feeling watched. I settle into my chair and unlock my computer. I have a straight shot to the front door and a perfect view of her roller skates. I wince away from the onslaught of emotions. The root cause is the thought of leaving her. Logic argues that this break from her might be a good thing. Time away from her could clear my head and force me back into the comfortable platonic space I need to reside in. Losing Felix might fix my life. Then again, it might only prolong the inevitable—giving Presley exactly what she’s after.
Me.
CHAPTER NINE
Presley
I glance across the bakery to watch Nate serve a customer at the counter. He’s been there all morning while I’ve been stuck in the back on bake duty. We had a breakthrough last night and I was so close to kissing him that it’s quite literally all I can think about. There isn’t one time from my past I can remember being so obsessed with someone’s lips. If I wanted a kiss, I took it. If I wanted even more than that, it was mine. That’s not why I’m hell-bent on having Nate for myself, though. There’s an air about him that genuinely makes me feel whole. It’s so cliché and don’t even ask me to explain it, because I can’t, but he is the butter to my bread. The butter is fattening, but I know it will taste so good. When he’s angry or being hard to get a read on, it only intrigues me more. It begs the question, why? How can his willpower possibly be that strong?
Ryan comes over with a tray of croissants and tells me to watch out. After he passes by, he seems to realize I�
�m not working, and who I’m fixated on. “Yo, earth to Presley, are you, uh, going to join the living? I take it you and Nate haven’t worked through your aggression yet?”
That pulls me from my daydream. “Explain what you mean by that.”
“You want to eat each other for dinner. How it hasn’t happened yet is beyond me. What do you think the back and forth banter is about? The fights that aren’t really fights, but more of foreplay? I’m not a rocket scientist, just a simple man, but it’s plain enough for me to figure things out. Why haven’t you?”
I narrow my eyes at his broad back. “There’s something more I don’t know. I think he might actually be attached to someone else.” Really attached. Marriage attached. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Well, if I’m being vain it’s the only reason I can come up with why he’s not responding to my advances like I think he should. He’s attracted to me. He wants me just as bad as I want him, and yet, here I stand concocting scenarios in my mind of us naked, sweaty, and breathless. “He’s hard to get a read on. Incredibly difficult.”
“That’s because he’s scared of you,” Ryan deadpans. “How could he not? You’re intimidating.”
“What? There’s no way that’s it.”
Ryan shakes his head, looking confused. “Maybe you’re right. He did ask for a few days off because he had to leave Gold Hawke to deal with some family business. Could be going to visit a woman or something, but I just don’t think that’s it.”
My stomach sinks and my heart flutters as the truth sets in. I’m right. He’s leaving. What if he never comes back? If the lure of whoever the woman is, is so strong that he stays? Nate isn’t bound for life to this place, and I am. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Oh,” I finally say. “Did he say when he’s leaving?”
“Tomorrow, I think. He didn’t tell you he was leaving?” I shake my head. He didn’t and it stings.
The Love You Hate: A Charge Man Novel (The Charge Men Series Book 1) Page 12