Strong Hold

by Sarah Castille

  Too bad this didn’t happen a day earlier and Torment could have seen me living in style. But I will not think about Torment. I will not remember the feel of his soft warm lips as they sucked ice cream off my finger. I will not remember his chiseled pecs or his smoldering eyes…or the deep rumble of his voice…or the feel of his hard body pressed up against mine…or the way my core tightens when he touches me. He is gone. Forgotten. I have already moved on.

  Dr. Drake is easy on the eye. He has a nice smile. Nice body. Very nice teeth. Not much in the way of a dangerous persona, but he seems to like me.

  I will have lunch with him on Monday.

  I hope he likes picnics.

  * * *

  Nine hours later, my first housewarming party is in full swing. My luxuriously furnished, one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor of the Sunset View Apartments buzzes with activity. While Jennifer and Carlos mix cocktails with their friends in the high-end kitchen, I grab another glass of champagne from the bar and head over to the balcony to catch up with Amanda.

  My path takes me through the random assortment of boyfriends, girlfriends, friends with benefits, and soon-to-be one-night stands clustered in the center of my open space living area. A pang of loneliness grips me. Why am I always single at parties—the best friend, housemate, filler, or stand-in? Why am I never the one making out in the bedroom or chatting to the guests as my boyfriend slings a casual arm over my shoulder and whispers sweet nothings into my ear? What’s wrong with me?

  “So, what happened with Torment?” As always, Amanda gets straight to the point. I lean over the railing, soaking up the view of San Francisco Bay, and steel myself for her interrogation.

  She pokes me in the side when I am not immediately forthcoming with information.

  “I thought I’d finally get the ‘don’t call me in the morning’ text after you texted me about your afternoon picnic and your motorcycle ride.”

  A warm breeze ruffles my hair, bringing with it the fresh scent of the ocean and an unwanted memory of my cheek pressed up against Torment’s jacket when we raced around the bay on his Agusta.

  “You must have missed the text where I said he just wanted me to work.” My third—or is it my fourth?—glass of champagne is a little too sweet and a little too fruity, but I gulp it down just the same. Some nights call for a little extra indulgence, and this is one of them.

  Amanda’s laugh tinkles in the still of the night. “I didn’t believe it. I saw the way he watched you when we left the club last week. When you told me he tracked you down at the hospital with a picnic in tow, I knew he was into you.”

  “Well, your instincts were wrong this time,” I snap. “He has a girlfriend. That over-processed blonde who was prancing around in pink Latex. I call her Pinkaluscious.”

  Amanda snorts champagne through her nose. “Catty. Not like you—which tells me you like him.”

  I shake my head. “He isn’t really my type. Too violent. Too rough. Too dangerous. He probably hangs out with unsavory biker dudes. I’m better off sticking with my usual.”

  “Bland.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I take another sip of champagne. Gah. I’ll have to switch to something harder—something to numb my brain and erase all my memories of yesterday.

  “The only guys you ever go out with are boring, dull, and safe. The kind of guys parents love. Ryan? Yawn. Phil? Dull as ditch water. Mike? He was so innocuous I can’t even remember his face.” Even your friend Charlie, who you had the sense not to date, is the same. Nice and dull.”

  “They’re the only ones who ask me out.” I stare out into the night. Lake Merritt glimmers below us—an inky black stain surrounded by twinkling lights. So pretty. If I owned a place like this, I would spend all my time just looking at the view.

  “Not true.” Amanda raps my knuckles with her finger. “You forget we’ve been friends since we were four. I’ve seen the guys you lust after, but the minute they express any interest, you run away. Remember Timmy Jones?”

  “He put a dead frog in my lunch box.”

  “Jack from high school?”

  “He set my locker on fire.”

  “How about Dan from first-year biology?”

  “He tried to turn me into an anarchist and start a revolution.” I turn to face her. “And Timmy doesn’t count. We were in first grade.”

  Amanda sighs. “My point is, the edgy, dangerous guys you liked all wanted to ask you out, but you ran away before they got a chance.”

  My fingers curl around the cold, iron railing. “Well, this time I got blindsided by a pink Barbie doll. Just leave it. I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed. And it doesn’t matter. I’m having lunch with Doctor Drake on Monday, and he’s definitely not bland—well, at least not physically.”

  “I thought you said he touched you inappropriately.”

  “It wasn’t so much inappropriate as it was…protective.” I graciously give Dr. Drake the benefit of the doubt.

  “Protective or possessive?”

  “Doctor Drake doesn’t want to possess me.” I fold my arms and give her my best scowl.

  “Not since he lost the pissing contest.”

  “What pissing contest?” Amanda always forgets her experience with men vastly exceeds my own. Vastly with a capital V.

  Amanda rolls her eyes. “The one you told me about. Torment and Doctor Drake, sniffing each other out, trying to establish who was top dog.”

  “It wasn’t like that. It was just about lunch. And it wasn’t really a contest—”

  “I don’t imagine it would have been,” she interjects. “Torment is as alpha as they come. Drake probably ran off with his tail between his legs.”

  “Doctor Drake was just being friendly. Charlie says he likes me. He’ll be good for me. Everyone thinks he’s gorgeous. He’s you but a man.”

  “Mmm.” Amanda twists her lips. “Then he’ll be amazing in bed.”

  “Who’s amazing in bed?” Jake comes up behind Amanda, wraps his arms around her waist, and nuzzles her neck.

  Sigh.

  “You are, baby.” She grins and wiggles her ass against him.

  Jake whispers in her ear and Amanda blushes. For all her feigned indifference, she really likes him. More than any other guy I’ve seen her with. Much more.

  “Makayla was asking me about Torment,” Amanda says. “Help her out and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Amanda!”

  She gives me a wink and turns in Jake’s arms, planting little kisses along his jaw.

  “What do you want to know?” He squeezes her ass and she squeals.

  “Name, rank, and serial number,” Amanda murmurs against his lips. “Current girlfriend. Day job. Gossip. That will do for a start.”

  Jake moans. “No can do. He’s an intensely private person. If he found out I had spilled his secrets, he would kick me out. Privacy is such a big thing to him, he set up Redemption as an invitation-only club. Even the spectators are screened. They have to have a connection with someone in the club and they have to sign a nondisclosure statement before they are put on the list to receive texts about the events. And it works. Most people don’t even realize he has a real job. They think he works at the club full time. “

  Amanda’s eyes narrow. “He has a secret identity?”

  Jake shakes his head and swallows. “I didn’t say that. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

  “And you know who he is?”

  He looks at the floor and shuffles his feet.

  Poor guy. She will stop at nothing to get that information from him. He does not even understand the hunger of the beast he has unleashed. He’ll be lucky to escape with his tongue intact.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I almost trip over my feet to get away from them. I step back into the apartment and check my texts. Torment’s name show
s up on my Caller ID. Unable to resist, I open the message.

  I need you at the club tonight

  Ha. I’m sure you do. And that’s all you want from me. I quickly type a response:

  No. Sorry. Busy

  What are you doing?

  I’m having a party **dances** **drinks**

  Without me?

  Don’t even think about guilt-tripping me. My thumb wavers as I type. I’ve definitely had enough to drink.

  U have club things 2 do. Like hurting people

  Is the doctor at ur party?

  My eyes widen. Is he jealous? Why? He has Pinkaluscious. Why does he care if Dr. Drake is at my party? Should I lie and say yes?

  “Sorry, Mac. Jake wouldn’t tell me anything.” Amanda joins me in the living room and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

  Just what I need. An expert. I hand her the phone.

  Amanda reads the messages and gives me a curious, sideways glance. “Mention the girlfriend.”

  “Why?”

  She laughs. “Just a hunch. Work the girlfriend into the conversation. I’ll bet he shows up at your door in less than half an hour.”

  Amanda has never let me down, especially when it comes to men. Trusting her instincts, I send my text.

  No doctor here. Just me and friends and lots of drinks

  I want to see lots-of-drinks Makayla. Come to the club

  2 much violence

  I have ice cream

  My hands shake, and a giggle erupts from my chest. Maybe if I wasn’t so drunk I would find him less amusing.

  Give it 2 Pinkaluscious

  Who?

  Your girlfriend **frowns**

  After waiting five minutes for him to respond, I hand the phone to Amanda and let her read the new texts. She tells me not to text him again. For the next ten minutes, I conduct tests on my phone to ensure it is still working by forcing everyone at the party to text me. Another ten minutes pass by and I finally give up. He isn’t going to respond. And why would he? If it was a game, he knows he’s been found out.

  “Someone hit me over the head the next time I express any interest in a man.” I throw myself into the black, leather chair beside Rob and steal his bowl of calorie- and fat-laden chips.

  Rob laughs and reaches behind him to turn up the music on the insanely expensive sound system that comes with the apartment. “With pleasure, darling.”

  Half an hour and an entire bowl of chips later, the low-pitched, high decibel rumble of a motorcycle from the street below cuts through Gotye’s sad and highly appropriate “Somebody That I Used To Know.” A pathetic hope unfurls in my belly, and I immediately quash it down. He has a girlfriend. Why would he come looking for me?

  A light breeze blows across the balcony and through the open windows, ruffling my hair. Gotye’s voice warbles behind me, and I imagine the motorcycle’s engine quiets to a soft, steady, low rumble. Or is it my imagination? My heartbeat quickens. Self-destructive curiosity claws its way through my belly.

  Cursing myself for my stupidity, I leave Rob and step onto the balcony. Amanda and Jake are entwined in the corner. Taking a deep breath, I clutch the railing and look at the street below.

  Oh. My. God. I know that motorcycle. And I know that tall, powerfully lean, mouthwateringly tight body dismounting the seat.

  For a moment, I can only stare. Stunned.

  “Amanda,” I gasp. “It’s him. Torment is outside.” A huge grin spreads across my face and I suck in a breath. He’s here. He’s here.

  Amanda detaches herself from Jake and frowns. “How did he know your new address?”

  “Rob put a sign on the door at my old place.” I narrow my eyes. “You knew he would go there and find it empty.”

  Amanda shrugs. “I thought he deserved it after what he did to you. I didn’t know about Rob’s sign.”

  My lips tighten into a thin line. “I’m going to call the doorman, and tell him to send Torment up.”

  “Don’t let him in,” Amanda snaps. “You told him no. He came anyway. Men like that need boundaries. If you don’t set them at the beginning, he will never know where the boundaries are and he’ll walk all over you. It takes a very strong person to build them in the middle of a relationship. If he’s interested, he’ll ditch the girlfriend and come looking for you. I guarantee it.”

  “Maybe he just needs someone to handle first aid tonight,” I say.

  “Stop biting your nails.” Amanda slaps my hand away from my mouth. “And stop bouncing. I thought you were angry with him. Angry girls don’t bounce.”

  But excited girls do. And what is more exciting than being hunted down by a devastatingly handsome tattooed fighter with a heartwarming laugh?

  Amanda studies me and sighs. “Even if it is about work, my previous advice stands. Don’t let the two-timing bastard in.”

  Jake strokes his hand down her hair. “I don’t think that’s good advice. I know Torment. If he had a girlfriend—and I think I would have heard about it—he wouldn’t be here. He’s not that kind of guy.” He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You saw him at the club, Makayla. What do you think?”

  “I think I’m confused.” I lean over the railing. The night is still and quiet again. Torment has removed his helmet and is looking up at my balcony, but from this distance I cannot see his face. Can he see me? For the longest time he looks up and I look down. Finally, he scrubs his hand through his hair, and then his body stills. He sees me.

  HE SEES ME!

  Using my fancy new intercom, and despite Amanda’s protests, I ring down to the doorman and tell him to send Torment to my apartment. Five minutes later, Torment crosses my threshold, his leather creaking with every step.

  The room freezes. Every conversation stops. The last few notes of Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” linger in the air. Amanda detaches herself from Jake’s arms, stomps across the room, and stands in front of me.

  “Torment.” She crosses her arms. I don’t have to see her face to know she has shot him her best don’t-mess-with-my-friend glare.

  “Amanda.”

  Tension hangs in the air between them, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles.

  “What are you doing here?” she snaps.

  “I want to speak to Makayla.”

  “She’s busy. She doesn’t have time for men who are going to mess with her head.” Amanda is in full protective mode and although she is only one third Torment’s size, the force of her will makes me shudder.

  “It’s okay. I want to talk to him.” I pat her shoulder but she doesn’t move.

  “She wants to talk to me.” Torment’s firm voice silences the whispers at the back of the room.

  “She doesn’t.”

  “She does.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  Torment explodes into motion. “Dammit, Amanda. Get out of my way.” He reaches around her, grasps my hand, and pulls me into his chest.

  My pulse races. My body flames. Moisture pools between my thighs.

  So hard. So rough. So warm. So dominating. I want more. More of this erotic manhandling of my body. More forceful, alpha-male.

  No. I give myself a mental shake. Dominating bad. Manhandling bad. Forceful bad. Did I learn nothing when I was a child?

  I press my hands against his chest and push myself away.

  Torment frowns. “I need to see you. Now. Alone.” His body vibrates with tension and I slide my hand into his to calm him down.

  “Okay. We can talk in my bedroom. It’s just down the hall.” I give his hand a squeeze. He gives my hand a tug. Next thing I know, I am flying down the hallway behind him. He pulls me into the bedroom, slams the door behind us, and spins me around to face him.

  “That was dramatic and just bordering on unacceptable behavior,” I say, breathless.

  He
rakes his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t wait. I had to talk to you.”

  With a shaky inhalation, I press my back against the door. Every nerve in my body is on fire. “Here I am,” I breathe a whisper. “Talk away.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  My eyes widen. “You came here to tell me that?”

  “I came here to see you.”

  I melt against the door in a pool of warm fuzzies. “You saw me last night.”

  “I saw you leave last night. I didn’t understand why until I got your text.” He takes a deep breath and leans his forearm against the door beside my head. So close. So hot. His broad chest blocks out everything in the room, and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.

  “You should have given me a chance to explain.” His eyes soften and he twirls a strand of my hair around his fingers. “I would never lead you on. I’m a one-woman man and right now you’re the woman I want to get to know. I’ve never met anyone with so much compassion. You’re beautiful, strong, and brave. You see into the heart of people. You listen. You did more for Homicide and Flash than patching them up. You made their lives better in the short time you were with them.”

  Stunned by the onslaught of compliments—more than I’ve ever had in my life—I have to force my words out. “But I saw you with…Pink…Sandy…and Homicide said she was your girlfriend.”

  His face darkens. “Maybe you misheard. Sandy and I had a casual and brief relationship. It didn’t work out. She has had a hard time accepting that it’s over.”

  “No one else?”

  His slow, easy smile steals my breath away. “No one.”

  He tucks my hair behind my ear and strokes a finger along my jaw. “Will you come to the club now?”

  Argh. What a confusing man. Did he do all this just to get me to work after all?

  He cups my jaw with his hand and tilts my head back, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “You have the most expressive eyes,” he murmurs. “Beautiful, emerald-green eyes. I can see what you’re thinking. And you’re wrong. I would have come here tonight even if I didn’t need you at the club.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together. How nice to be so transparent. What if he can see how badly I want him to kiss me? Hmmm. My eyes fly open.