“It’s my choice to make, right or wrong. Not yours.”
His jaw clenches and he releases me.
And I’m already moving, rushing after Dash, my heart racing. I push through the crowd, lifting to my toes, trying to see over the crowd, but I can’t find Dash. I finally make it to the door and explode onto the sidewalk, looking left and right. Dash is walking to my left and he has a good lead on me. So much so that I launch into a run. He’s cleared the main strip now, and I’m breathless when I catch his arm, but at least there aren’t people all around us now. At least we have some semblance of privacy.
“Dash, stop. Stop, please.” I step in front of him, press my hands to his chest. “I would have come right away, but Tyler grabbed my arm and I had to go off on him. Why are you leaving me?”
“He was right. I’m not good for you.” He literally sets me aside and starts walking again.
“Don’t do this!” I call after him. “This is about you and him, not me and you. Don’t make it what it isn’t. Don’t let him control you by using me.”
He stops walking but he doesn’t turn around.
I hurry forward and step in front of him again, but this time, I don’t touch him. “Don’t do this,” I say again, softly. “Tonight was a great night. The best night. We had so much fun. I had so much fun with you, Dash. I always have fun with you.” He draws a breath and just stands there, looking at me and that pushes my buttons. Now my temper flares and my hands go out to my side. “I don’t even know what this is about, but as I told Tyler, it’s not about me. And still, I’ve tried to fix this and I did nothing wrong. So you know what, Dash? If you walk away, it’s because you want to. You don’t get to blame it on Tyler. So whatever, Dash. Go on. Keep walking.”
I try to step around him and he catches my arm. “Let’s go,” he captures my hand and starts walking with me in tow. I let him lead me forward, but my anger is here now and it’s not going away. And so is his. We walk in silence, but that silence screams of what is to come. And it’s not going to be gentle or quiet.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Angry sex wins.
The minute Dash and I are inside his apartment, we’re all over each other, kissing each other, hands all over each other. I end up against the door, my shirt and bra shoved to my waist. His hands all over my breasts, and not gently, an erotic tug of my nipples, as painful as it is good. The bite of anger between us is a live charge, driving every taste, and every touch. Dash turns me to face the door, forcing me to catch my weight with my hands, yanking my skirt to my waist, and then impatiently ripping my panties away. We’re back to where we were that first night together and I knew then, as I know now, this is all about control. He needs it. He wants it. And I respond, God how I respond. I am hot and aching, and in need of him now, everywhere, anyway I can get him.
His fingers are between my legs, stroking my sex, and then his palm is on my backside, with a sharp smack, that smites my skin, and leaves me gasping a mere moment before he drives inside me. I pant with the punch of pleasure, the pump of his cock, and then he’s thrusting into me, over and over, hard and deep, but it’s just not enough. I want to yell at him. I want to touch him. I want to feel him deep inside me, over and over again.
He drags me off the door, against him, my back to his chest, leaning around me, he catches my face with his hand—he kisses me, wildly, deeply, and this right now, is all lust and demand, possession and control, but I don’t care. I want it all right now. I don’t know where he starts and I end. Where I start and he ends.
Somehow, I have no idea when it happened, one of my hands is back on the door, and one of his hands closes on the front of my throat, holding me there—an erotic grip that doesn’t hurt but I feel the pressure every time he pumps into me. I wonder if he knows his palm is on the necklace. I wonder if that’s why he’s doing this. I worry that it will break but he just keeps thrusting and pumping and my body blurs my fears. I’m angry. I’m aroused. I’m a million things I can’t name. Something about his hand on my throat —oh God.
My body betrays me.
Without warning, I tumble into orgasm, crying out as he drives into me, a low guttural groan roaring from somewhere deep in his chest. With all that explodes between us, I all but collapse into the door, but Dash’s arm slides around my waist, catching me, holding me up. His face is buried in my neck, and for a few seconds, he holds me like that. Until finally, he says, “I’ll get you something.”
I nod and he pulls out of me.
My legs and my emotions are mush and I rotate to lean on the door and slide down the surface to sit on the floor. My hand goes to the necklace, and relief follows as I find it still secure at my neck. Dash returns quickly, squatting in front of me and offering me a towel. I take it from him and stick it between my legs, but I could really care less about anything right now but him and us.
“What was that back there, Dash?”
“You weren’t wrong. It was history ignited between me and Tyler. I should have never let it become about you. I’m sorry.” He offers me his hand and helps me to my feet. “I don’t want you in his house, Allie. I want you here. Stay here.”
Because he doesn’t want me at Tyler’s place. That’s what I take from that. And that’s when I know I’m not alright, we’re not alright. Not even close. I’m now thinking about my thoughts earlier tonight. About how we would either crash into each other or just plain crash. I was right, but the crash is now.
“I’m back to being a game token for you and Tyler,” I say. “And I don’t like it. And he wasn’t wrong. I’m going to get hurt.”
“I want you here with me, Allie. I wouldn’t ask you to move in with me to one-up Tyler. You can’t believe that.”
He catches my arm and tries to pull me to him. I press on his chest. “No, Dash. I’m too attached to you already. I’m too attached and that wasn’t the plan. We’re both a mess, both fucked up and we don’t even want to tell each other why. But do we want to live together for a couple of months? I’m going home.” I try to pull my arm away.
He drags me to him and this would be so much easier if being pressed to him didn’t feel so damn good. But it’s now or later, and now will hurt less. “Don’t go,” he says softly. “I need you to stay.”
“We are not good for each other, Dash. I was wrong when I said this wasn’t about me tonight. It was. And we are too fucked up not to fuck each other up even worse. And you might survive that, but judging from how much this hurt me tonight, I don’t think I can. You won’t just hurt me. You’ll destroy me.”
He stares at me a beat that turns into three before his hand falls away, his tone resolute. “I’ll drive you home.”
“We walked because we’ve been drinking. I’ll call an Uber.”
“I’ll ride with you and don’t tell me no. I’m riding with you, Allie.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
The ride to my house, my very temporary house since I just quit my job, is quiet, but the ping pong of emotions between me and Dash screams through the silence. The car pulls to the front of my place and I get out. Dash follows me and I turn and hold up a hand. “You’re not coming in.”
“I’m coming in.”
“No. No, you are not. If you come inside, I’ll forget why that’s a mistake because that’s what you do to me. You make me forget everything.” I press my hands to my head and then drop them. “I need to think, Dash, and I need to do it when the vodka isn’t driving every damn thing I say and think. And you’re too damn famous for us to fight this out when the Uber driver could record us. Go home.”
“That’s what you want?”
No, I think, but that’s not what I say, and it’s not what is right. “It’s the only way it can be,” I say, and I sound strong, but I’m shredded inside.
He draws a deep breath and turns and gets in the car. It kills me even if it’s what I know is right. I turn and walk to the front door. The Uber idles, unmoving, and I know Dash is making sure I get inside safel
y. I’ll take care of you, I hear him say in my head. Until you’re gone, I think. I enter the house, turn on the alarm and sink against the door. That’s when the tears come, an avalanche of tears. I cry for me and Dash. I cry for what could have been and never will be. I cry for my mother, who has won a battle but will always have a monster on her shoulder. She will always act brave, but underneath, she will fear the moment that monster attacks again. And I will, too. I cry and I cry some more, until I can’t cry anymore. My nose is stuffy. My face is wet and I’m on the floor.
I haul myself to my feet and walk into the bedroom. I didn’t even get my things from Dash’s place. All my favorite makeup, my big bag, and more, are still there. I walk into the bathroom and stare into the mirror. I look like a volcano erupted on my face I have so much mascara all over the place. I wash my face and start reapplying my makeup, telling myself it’s because I can’t stand to see myself looking so puffy and pathetic over a man. Not because Dash might show up at my door.
He left. I told him to leave.
I’m half done with my face and it feels pointless. I have to take it all back off to go to bed. I shut the toilet and sit down. I’m exhausted in so many ways. My cellphone buzzes from somewhere, the bed where I think I threw it. I hate how much I hope it’s Dash, but I still get up and hunt it down. I grab it from the mattress and read a message from Tyler: If you want to know the real Dash, here is your chance. Go here now. I’ll meet you there. You’ll need me, and you’ll understand why when you get there. There’s an address.
I have no idea what this means, but I don’t seem to care. It’s Dash. And it doesn’t sound good. I rush into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I’m still a mess, but I don’t care about that either. My purse is my target and I grab it and slide it on cross-body, but I pause. What if this is Tyler stirring up more trouble? I dial his phone. He answers on the first ring. “What is this?”
“You helping me save the damn fool from himself. If you care about him and you obviously do, go to the address and go now.” He hangs up.
I try to call Dash. He doesn’t answer. I’m officially worried. I pull up my Uber app and key in the address, before ordering a car. The driver will be here in five minutes. I’ll be at my destination in fifteen.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
I don’t bother with a coat. I’m hot, so very hot, and spinning out of control.
My car arrives, and the location Tyler has given me is actually not far—downtown, but not the area of downtown anyone wants to be in at almost midnight. The driver pulls me to the front of a building stamped with graffiti and surrounded by more buildings with more graffiti. There’s a huddle of a few men on the street, all of them smoking and talking. The driver looks back at me. “You sure this is right?”
I glance at the address on my phone, along with Tyler’s instructions, which say to enter the building through the red door. I find the red door, but this just doesn’t feel right. I dial Tyler and he answers with, “Are you here?”
“Yes, and it looks kind of scary.”
“Because it is. I’m already inside. I’ll come and get you.” He hangs up and I glance at the driver. “Someone is coming to get me. I’ll tip for your time.”
“Happy to wait,” the man says. “A lady like you can’t be out here alone.”
I don’t know what that means, but I appreciate his kindness. “Thank you,” I say.
Tyler arrives quickly and opens my door. “What is this, Tyler?” I ask, exiting to the street.
“You’ll see soon enough.” He motions me forward and I follow him to that damn red door that feels like a bad answer to a terrible question.
From there, we enter what looks like a long hallway leading underground. Loud music radiates around us, vibrating with the promise of bad things to come. I stop walking, turning to Tyler. “If this is going to hurt me—”
“I’m more worried about him getting hurt, Allison. You care about him. I can see that. And I think the bastard actually cares about you. That means you might be the only one who can get him under control.” He turns and starts walking again, leaving me with only one option: to follow.
And I do.
I quickly double-step and catch up to him, wildly confused right now. The music is louder now, and I can hear voices and shouts, lots of voices, a crowd, I think. What is this? What is this? At this point, we reach two steel doors and Tyler opens one, motioning for me to enter whatever awaits me on the other side of this entryway. Not sure what to expect, I tentatively progress forward and find myself in what I think is an underground fight club, complete with a fight ring and crowds in chairs and standing around it.
Now, I’m really confused. Is Dash gambling on fights? Is that what this is?
Tyler steps to my side and I look to him for that answer. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
He points to the ring where two fighters and a referee appear to be ready to begin a new match. “Look closer,” he orders.
A bad feeling overtakes me and my gaze rockets to the rings again. One of the men has painted his face red, almost like a mask, a disguise, and oh God. It’s Dash. He’s in the ring. He’s going to fight. I turn to Tyler. “What the hell is this?”
“His reality for a long time. He began fighting in the underground clubs after his brother died. He got in trouble, almost landed in jail. That’s why he joined the FBI. He needed something physical. But that plan didn’t work. He always comes back to this when he’s fucked in the head.”
Anger spikes hard and fast. “My God, Tyler. This isn’t your story to tell me. Damn you. And you knew you were pushing him tonight. You knew.” I turn away from him and rush toward the ring, pushing through bodies, so many bodies, trying to stop the fight. I’m panting when I arrive ringside, and I don’t know how or why, but Dash’s eye rocket to mine.
The bell rings and the other fighter, a huge man that I know to be Russian, just because people are screaming, “The Russian Beast” at him, moves toward Dash. Dash doesn’t move. He’s staring at me. The Russian Beast hits him. And hits him again. Dash doesn’t fight back. He just lets him hit him and I’m screaming, trying to get Dash to fight back, to protect himself. I can barely take it. Dash goes down, knocked to one knee and the Russian is pumping his fists in the air, and the crowd just loves it.
I’m screaming, “No! Dash! No!” Over and over again.
The Russian Beast steps back in front of Dash and prepares to hit him, but suddenly Dash flat palms him right under his chin. The Russian Beast flails and falls to one knee. Dash is on his feet somehow, his face bloodied up, but his feet are agile. He steps behind The Russian Beast and closes him in a hold, a sleep hold I realize, as everyone screams, “Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!” And that is exactly what happens. Dash releases the other man and the Russian Beast face plants on the mat, sound asleep.
The referee grabs Dash’s hand and holds it up. The crowd goes nuts. Tyler steps beside me. “That is what he does. He comes in here, gets the shit beat out of himself by choice, and at the last minute, chokes the other guy out. It’s how he punishes himself for whatever the fuck he wants to be punished for.”
I want to know for what, I do, but I don’t ask. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m angry all over again. “Stop talking, Tyler. Just stop talking.”
“This place is illegal and one wrong hit and him or the other guy are dead.”
I whirl on him. “How do you even know he’s here?”
“This was a PR problem for Dash once before. I handled it and now I pay someone here to tell me if he shows up.”
Dash is now at the side of the ring, and he comes through the ropes. The crowd is cheering him on with, “Red Face, Red Face, Red Face.”
I tune out Tyler and watch as Dash jumps to the ground and walks straight toward me. Even with the red paint all over him, I can see that his face is a mess, his eye black and swollen. And the idea that he wanted this kind of abuse, guts me. Tears burns in my own eyes at the hate he must feel for himself to ask for this
. He stops in front of me and drags me to him, and any relief I feel at his touch is quickly burned away. He leans in, his lips at my ear. “Why are you here?” he demands. “You aren’t supposed to be here. You aren’t supposed to see this.”
“To get you out of here.”
He’s silent a moment, holding me there, before he says, “Leave. Leave, Allie. You were right. We’re not good for each other.” He inches back and stares down at me, letting me see the sharp cut in his stare.
The crowd seems to be dispersing, maybe even herded out of the room, thank God. I want this, all of this, to just be over. “Can we just leave please?”
“Go home, Allie,” he says again, releasing me. And he says nothing else. He turns and walks away, and when I would follow, a big, burly man, a guard, I think, steps in front of me. I lean around him and watch as Dash climbs back inside the ring, talks to the referee, and then exits on the other side. He’s gone then. I can’t see him. I can’t find him.
I turn away from the guard, and the ring, emotions twisted, as I head for the door, needing out of here before I’m stupid enough to cry again. Needing out of here, just to breathe. Finally, it seems, I exit into the hallway and Tyler is right there with me, keeping pace. “Where are you going?”
“Home. He’s gone. I can’t find him. And I can’t be here.”
“I’ll drive you.”
I wave him off. “I’ll call a car.”
“No one will pick up here after midnight.”
“I’ll call a car,” I insist.
“Stubborn woman,” he mutters.
I’m at the building exit and I step into a chilly night, phone in hand, as I pull up my Uber app. I do as I said, and order a car. “Done,” I say, glancing at Tyler. “I ordered the car.”
“They won’t show. I’ll drive you.”
“I’m not going to let Dash find out I got in a car with you Tyler. He already has to think I came with you.”
What If I Never Page 21