by Ivy Stone
Ali wrings her fingers together while pleading with big round eyes. “No. I don’t need a hospital. And you can’t call, Lindsey. Or your work.”
My patience snaps. Her stupidity, infuriating.
I glare at her. “I don’t particularly care if you want to or not. You called me, Ali. Middle of the fucking night, because you need my help. Now accept it, and get your ass moving because you can’t go back to this place you call home. I let you go back there because you’re nineteen and responsible for yourself… and look what happened.” I gesture to the length of her. “Well, lesson fucking learned, babe. Not letting it happen again. We got to call your sister. She’s your family. That’s where you should be.”
I turn around, pull her slippery hand into mine and get moving before she can disagree with me some more.
“Please. Just stop a second.” She yanks her arm free and I’m done. I don’t have time for this shit and I can’t, won’t, leave her hurt and alone.
Rain pelts down on us as a storm brews above us and between us.
“I know you probably think I’m young and naïve. But I’m not stupid, Roamyn. I know what will happen the moment you take me to the precinct or the hospital. I’m not going to say anything against Lucio or his father. They’ll kill me before they’re even in cuffs. We both know it.” She drops her arms, her shoulders curling over as she sighs. “And I’m not worrying my sister over cuts that will heal. It’s not worth it. She’ll pull crazy out on their asses and it’s the last thing we need. Trust me when I say that to you. You’ll start something neither of us can finish because this…” she gestures around us, “…is so much bigger than you, me, and any of our problems.”
Her words sift through cracks of thunder. Rain downpours in a heavy shower, thickening the tension growing with every uneven breath. The storm steals the silence, our words—anything we want to voice. Not that it matters. What’s the use of talking when trying to reason with a girl prepared to defy me at every turn? I stomp forward, sweep the hair out of her face and dance my hand around the back of her neck. I’ll get her attention the only way that seems to work. I squeeze the delicate column in my hands and lower my eyes to her so she can believe every word from my mouth.
“Never said you were stupid, babe. I know you’re not. Takes courage and strength to live through what I can only imagine you have and still be here today. But you’re caught up in a world that’s going to get you killed. That day might not have been today. But one day, Lucio will punch you one too many times. Or this…” I use my free hand to trace over the track marks on the inside of her arm, “…this will kill you first. You need to get out now while you have people to help you.”
A lump forms in my throat at the agony in her eyes.
She casts her head downward and away from me and whispers, “It’s too late for that.”
I shake her. “No, it’s not, Ali. You’ve just got to want it bad enough and be strong enough to put the past behind you.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, blending with the rain. “And what happens when Giuseppe finds me? What do you think Lucio will do to me as payback? I’ve tried to get out before, Roamyn. I tried to find you and it didn’t go so well. I also tried to get clean at one point and you know what happened? I ended up on a bridge ready to jump off just so I could feel some sort of relief.” Her voice rises to overcome the thrashing of Mother Nature. “When I’m clean, everything I’ve been through becomes a hallucination I can’t separate from reality. It fucking kills me to remember the pain, their hands on me. Inside of me. You don’t understand and I wouldn’t expect you to. But if I have to suffer through every damn day for the rest of my life, reliving the nightmares of my past, I won’t survive. Because that will kill me. You can judge me just like I’m sure everyone else does, but you have no idea what I’ve been through. The way I handle my life might not be healthy, and every time I escape might be a risk, but it’s the lesser of two evils for me…” she pauses, her eyes glossing over with anguish. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry.”
I want to be mad at her. Yell at her. Knock some fucking sense into her, but I can’t because my lungs are constricting. It’s hard to breathe. Difficult to process everything she’s just said without wanting to rip my own damn heart out, serve it up to her so she doesn’t have to suffer alone. So she understands she doesn’t have to walk this path alone. Not anymore. I clench my jaw as a war wages in my mind. Right and wrong—I can’t leave her here. But taking her home to my place is just as much of a mistake. I run a hand through my hair, fighting a losing battle because what’s right and wrong in a world that’s not black and white? It’s chaos. Corruption. Gray.
I stomp forward.
Fuck right and wrong.
My step’s twice the size of hers, I’m on her in second, scooping her up around her legs and throwing her over my shoulder with ease because she barely registers as weight.
I shake my head. Still too fucking thin.
Rounding the corner a flash of black and chrome comes into view and I head for my car.
“Not that this view is anything short of amazing or anything, but what the hell are you doing? Put me down, Roamyn. Right now,” she demands and I give her leg a light slap to shut her up before someone notices us.
My palms bounce off her ass instead of her leg and she squeals. My spine stiffens.
Fuck.
“Did you just smack me?” Shock resonates in Ali’s voice.
I shift her up on my shoulder. “Yeah, I did. Now can you shut up for just one second so I can get your ass in the car without a fight.”
A sting sears my ass as she returns the favor. “Put me down, asshole. I said I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
The corner of my lips lift into a smile. This is what I admire about her. Through everything, she still has an attitude to match her strength.
“Forget it, Ali. Not putting you down till you agree to not argue with me. I’m taking you home to clean you up. Get out of these wet clothes and when that’s done, we can argue some more if that’s what you really want?”
I hear a sigh from behind me and her body becomes limp. “Okay, fine. Please let me down now before we both fall over in the wet.”
Her tone softens as does the sky. I curl my hands around her waist and lift her down from my shoulder slowly, careful, not to hurt her.
Big fucking mistake.
My cock hardens as her body slides down the front of me. Her stomach flattens against mine. Her tits brush down my chest. Hands explore my wide shoulders. Warmth floods me and shoots desire straight to my dick. Her lips part, breathing becoming shallow. Our eyes linger, one second longer than appropriate and the air between us changes.
My throat thickens. “Come on.”
I walk toward the car door and yank it open just as I hear Ali mutter under her breath, “You do have a nice ass.”
My head jolts up and I turn around, eyebrows furrowed. Her teeth shining through a huge smile and I tilt my head at her.
“What? It’s true.” She shrugs and climbs into the car.
My hands tighten around the doorframe and I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t say things like that.”
She smirks and I shut the door on her.
This is gonna be a long night.
A shiver coats me with a layer of ice. Nerves. Desire. The coolness of wet clothes soaking my skin. My body can’t decipher which feeling’s more prominent.
I wrap my arms around my waist to gain warmth but it’s no use. I’m soaked through three layers of clothing and Roamyn standing a few feet away, back turned, taut muscles on display while he shuffles through his closet for another shirt isn’t helping. I blow out a breath and my reflection in Roamyn’s bathroom mirror catches in the corner of my eye.
I gravitate toward the bathroom, my eyes never leaving the girl staring back at me. My hand sweeps over my eye and I wince.
Roamyn appears behind me, dry, in a new tee and long pants. With a scowl etch
ed on his face, he glares through the mirror at the purpling on my cheek.
“Ass up.” He chin lifts toward the vanity in front of me, and I turn around lifting myself up.
He kneels down, head between my legs and peers up at me with ocean blue hues mixed with the same dark greens of the overcast sky outside. My breath catches and the beating of my heart becomes a solitary sound. The only one I hear.
Roam drops his gaze and his invisible hold on me relinquishes. He reaches between us into a cupboard under the counter and pulls out a small medical kit. Standing up again, he traces his fingers over my knees. My skin flares under his touch. Color spreads to my cheeks and he pulls my knees apart so he can shift in between them. Ignoring my eyes gazing over at him, my chest rising and falling fast, he gets to work cleaning up my face.
My eyelids drift closed, soaking in the feeling of his tender hands, his caring touch. It should feel wrong.
Bad.
I should feel bad.
I called him and I shouldn’t have. Unease had wrapped itself around my heart then just as I can feel the pressure of it now. It was a risk even if I knew I wasn’t being followed. If Lucio had seen Roamyn—the more he gets involved—it could get us both killed. Roamyn doesn’t need to be dragged down into my mess. But the little broken girl in me doesn’t want to pull away from the only man who’s ever risked anything to save me. Cop or not. Maybe it stems back to Daddy issues because I could have called my sister. She would have been by my side in a heartbeat. But the ramifications of doing so weren’t worth the consequences bound to follow.
“I’m sorry for calling you in the middle of the night.”
Roamyn continues to wipe over my brow with a washcloth. Watching him now, I soak in everything about him I hadn’t noticed before. His perfectly shaped nose. The fullness of his bottom lip. The fact if he isn’t smiling showing off those ridiculously gorgeous dimples, the shape of his eyebrows make him appear to be frowning—permanently.
“I don’t mind you calling, Ali. I’m glad you did. It is my job you know.”
His job. My heart deflates along with the warm fuzzy feeling of my ignorance. Believing he came running because it was me who called—like I’m some sort of special.
My mind wanders back to his job. “What made you want to be a cop anyway?”
He pauses, hand midair, before setting the washcloth down beside us looking all kinds of uncomfortable. “What is this, twenty questions?”
“It can be whatever you want it to be.” I smile, a break in joy bursting free at the thought I actually make this man uncomfortable. He’s gorgeous, but he’s so much more than that. He may not realize he did it, or maybe he does and thought he’d just never see me again so it didn’t matter, but the first night we met he bared the real in him he seems to hide.
He stares into space, his mind taking him somewhere else and my smile falters at the darkness in his eyes. I open my mouth to change the subject but he answers, “I always wanted to help the innocent. Lock the bad guys away. Bring justice to those who deserve it. And I’m not gonna lie…” he drifts off, his face lifting into a smirk, “…I wanted to wear the uniform. Women dig it. Before I joined the Organized Crime Control Bureau and became a detective, I was in blue every day and there was certainly no shortage of women ready to drop to their knees.”
And there it is—Roamyn’s deflection.
My head falls backward and a laugh erupts from deep inside. “A little cocky, don’t you think?”
He shrugs and then scatters the counter with his hand looking for something from the medical kit. “Cocky? Maybe. But truthfully, that’s how it was. At least, until I started working with my best friend. Women seem to gravitate toward his brooding, moody ass. Not that he ever wants the attention.”
Roamyn dips down and puts the kit away. A quiet moment creeps between us and I bite the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from sticking my nose where I shouldn’t because behind his half answer is a story, and by the looks of things it isn’t one he plans to share. Roamyn stands back up, keeping some distance between us. “I think it’s my turn to ask a question.”
I relax back against the mirror. “Okay. Go ahead.”
He folds his arms across his chest, making it hard to concentrate on his question rather than the biceps bulging against his tight shirt. “How’d you get mixed up with the Marino’s anyway? They’re not exactly recruiting kids off the street, and I know you’ve been around them for years.”
I press my lips together in a slight grimace. “You’ve obviously read my file. You tell me?”
“It’s not in your file, Ali. That’s why I’m asking. For the life of me, I can’t figure out where the connection is, and what good reason Giuseppe Marino would have to take you in if it weren’t to use you. The thought of him using you as a young kid…” his voice fades.
I lean my arms forward on my knees and drop my eyes so he can’t see straight through me. He’s right. He just has no idea it wasn’t me Giuseppe wanted to use. It was my sister and her best friend, Oliver. I was just a part of the package deal.
“It’s a long story,” I murmur to the floor.
“Well, why don’t you start with the beginning?” he deadpans.
A knot forms deep in my belly, and as I glance back up at Roamyn and the determination in his eyes, I know he won’t give in easily without an answer. And while I’ll never tell him the whole truth, he deserves some sort of an explanation after saving me tonight. Again. Even if he did just demand an answer with an asshole tone.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of rude?” I raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks.
“All the time.” He leans against the doorframe. “You were saying?”
I pull in then release a deep breath. “Adriana Marino is my best friend. Has been since we met at elementary school. Friends aren’t something I had a lot of growing up. It was kind of just me and my sister most of the time. She was always looking out for me. We had a rough childhood. One day we really needed help. We’d gotten into a tight spot,” I say, remembering the night Lindsey and Oliver nearly got us all killed by stealing one of Giuseppe’s men’s wallets. Tight fucking spot it was. “Adriana’s dad was nearby.” Nearby with guns trained on our heads.
“He decided to help us. He knew me already, I’d been to their house a few times over the years. He took us in. It was good for a few years. And then my sister left to do her own thing. She begged me to leave with her.” My heart constricts as her words play over in my head like a song full of memories. “I was so stubborn and I didn’t want to go. The Marino’s were my family too. The only real one I’d had except for Lindsey and I didn’t want to lose that. So I refused to leave with her. Everything went downhill from there.” The last of my voice comes off just above a whisper.
“Shit, Ali.”
I shrug it off. “It’s just how life has played out, you know?”
He pushes off the doorframe. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t pay for what they’ve done to you. Stay there. I’ll be back in a second.”
Roamyn disappears into the bedroom but returns a minute later, fresh T-shirt and shorts in hand. He sees me eyeing off the clothes.
“Here,” he offers, throwing them at me. “Put those on. They may be too big but at least, they aren’t wet. Come out when you’re done.”
“Thanks.”
He nods and gives me a tight smile before heading out.
I hold out the shorts. “Well, those aren’t going to fit,” I mutter to myself and lay them on the vanity. There’s no point in trying them on when they’re only going to fall back down. Pulling the T-shirt over my head a tingle rushes through me. My eyes close as I inhale the mixture of washing powder and Roamyn. God, it smells good. I flick my hair out from beneath the top and give myself a once over in the mirror.
I bite my lip, stifling a giggle because surely this is not what Roamyn had in mind when grabbing me clothes. For a man trying to fend me off and deny us any closeness, this i
s not going to help his cause. I walk out of the bathroom and catch Roamyn staring at me and wonder how long he’d been standing there. He turns away, rubbing the back of his neck as his cell phone rings, diverting the growing awkwardness of the moment.
I cough and stand by the door as he walks out of the room answering his phone.
I hear a faint, “Hey,” as he pulls the door a little behind him but not enough to shut it completely.
A minute passes and he doesn’t come back. Probably still on the call, I move to the bed to sit and wait. My stomach plummets when I sit down and women’s perfume invades my senses. His sheets reek of perfume, Roamyn and sex.
My nose wrinkles, the pungent smell an instant turn off and disappointment. I head to the door but stop still as I hear my name leaving Roamyn’s lips from just outside the room.
“Alison Jenkins. Yeah…”
I back up against the door as he continues, “I don’t know, Mase. She’s a junkie. We all know you can’t trust them.”
I gasp and my hand flies over my mouth.
“I don’t think this is a good way in. A lot of risks, man. Yeah. All right. I’ll be there.”
My eyes water. My breathing becomes loud, heavy, as my hand still covers my mouth to hold in noise and the shock of Roamyn’s comments. Knives slice pain through every organ, every vein, all the way to my heart. Was he going to use me? Was this the plan the whole time? Am I just a pawn, a stepping-stone into taking down another bad guy?
Roamyn’s voice echoes in my ears. She’s a junkie. I squint away his voice, trying to push it away. I’d been called so much worse than a junkie, but to hear it coming from him welcomed a world of hurt and shame. Clanking sounds come from outside as I gather myself together. I wipe under my eyes and rip Roamyn’s shirt off my body. Slipping on my now semi-wet clothes, I yank open the bedroom door and stomp out.
Anger flashes before my eyes. On my one-track mind nothing can get in my way. Not an excuse. Not an explanation. Maybe it’s irrational. Unreasonable. But I can’t see past my hurt feelings that have been stomped on and thrown out with the trash.