She’d seen the contract. She’d seen it and run.
He’d lost her.
I’ve ruined fucking everything.
With a roar, Reid swiped his arms across his desk, sending the neat stacks of paper and his laptop flying, crashing to the floor. Breathing hard, hard enough he thought he might be hyperventilating, he went to his knees, searching for his phone.
Finally, he found it. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. He tried her number again. It rang a few times, then clicked to voicemail. She’d cut off his call.
He couldn’t blame her.
You should have told her yourself. Instead he’d come up with excuses, telling himself that keeping the truth from her was for her own good. That since he no longer intended on going through with it, it really didn’t matter. Anything to avoid facing the shitty thing he’d planned to do.
He had to talk to her, explain, make her understand. No way would he let her go this time without a fight.
Scrambling to his feet, he jogged downstairs, out the door, and climbed into his car. He had to tell her he loved her. Beg her to forgive him.
Somehow, even with his foot planted on the gas the whole damn way, he made it to Rusty’s cottage without a speeding ticket. The Plymouth rocked to a stop outside her place, and he shoved the door open, striding to the front of the house. He banged against the solid wood, but no sound came from inside. He rested his forehead against the door. “Rusty, open up, baby. Please, I need to explain.”
He waited. Nothing. Leaving the porch, he checked the street. No sign of her pickup. He walked around the back of the house. Piper’s Corvette was missing, but Rusty’s truck was parked there.
Relief washed through him, hard and fast.
She was inside.
He went to the door and started banging again. “Rusty. Talk to me. You’ve got it all wrong.”
To his surprise, a few seconds later, the door opened.
He took in the woman standing in front of him. Hair wet, smelling like the vanilla soap she used. She wore faded jeans, body covered up except for her bare feet, toenails still the same blue from the night before. The baggy Guns N’ Roses tee she wore swamped her frame. She looked small, almost fragile.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was steady, cold.
“You didn’t answer my calls.”
“No, I was in the shower, washing your stench off my skin.”
Her expression was closed off, distant. And fuck, her words cleaved him in two. “Rusty…”
“Your smell, the memory of your hands on me…it makes me feel like a whore.”
He grabbed the door frame, because her words had the power to knock him on his ass. “Don’t say that.” He tried to step closer, but she crossed her arms and stepped back.
“Don’t touch me. You have no goddamn right.” Her eyes held his, but there was nothing there, the fire completely extinguished.
She was destroying him, every word out of her mouth a knife to the heart. “You know why I’m here, Rusty. Please let me explain. Will you do that? Will you hear me out?”
“Did you ask me out so you could get your hands on our business?”
Shit. “At first, but…”
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“There’s a fuck of a lot more to say.”
“Not from where I’m standing. You’re nothing but a ruthless, using asshole, and I don’t want to see you ever again. Now leave.”
He lunged forward, grabbed her shoulders, and dragged her up against him. She stood motionless, a fucking statue in his arms. Her skin even felt cool.
He backed her up, pressed her against the wall, cupped her precious face. “You have to believe me. I changed my mind. I could never take West’s from you. I know how you feel about that place. Shit, Rusty, I want you, not your business. Baby, I’ve fallen for you. I love you.”
A sound that could only be described as agony broke past her lips. It tore him up, made him feel like the monster he’d always thought he was—until Rusty, until she made him believe he was more than that.
She started to struggle, pounded against his chest. “Don’t you say that, don’t you fucking say that to me, you lying son of a bitch.”
He took it, took the hits, then held her away to look her in the eye and said it again. “I love you, Rusty. So fucking much.”
She seemed to shrink in on herself and jerked back, grabbing his wrists when he held on, shoving them away. She shook her head in denial. “No, you don’t. And I don’t love you. I could never love someone like you.” Her face was closed off again, all the fight drained from her.
He released her immediately, because yeah, that hurt. Hurt more than any hit he’d taken from his old man. More painful than the split lips and black eyes—all the broken bones put together. “You don’t mean that.”
She met his gaze. “I always mean what I say, Reid. Unlike you, I always have.” She took a retreating step. “Now, just go. Leave me the hell alone.”
He had no choice but to do as she asked. He’d destroyed what they had, all his hopes for a future with her. And he realized as she shut the door in his face, nothing could fix it.
He’d lost her, and this time there was no chance of forgiveness, no explaining it away, no getting her back.
It had been close to a week since she ended it with Reid—six whole days since he’d pressed her against the wall and told her he loved her in that deep, broken voice.
But when Rusty heard the deep growl of an engine roaring into West’s parking lot—even though it wasn’t the distinctive rumble of Reid’s car—her belly still flipped. And that pissed her off. What made her angrier still was the shot of excitement that spiked through her veins.
She shook her head. It had been lies, all of it. He didn’t love her. How could he and keep something like that from her?
But unfortunately, her traitorous body still hadn’t caught up, hadn’t gotten the memo from her brain that no, she would never feel his hands on her bare skin again, never feel him moving above her, pushing deep inside her. Never feel his mouth on hers.
Stop this. Shut it down.
The sound of boots hitting the concrete floor behind her, followed by Alex’s greeting, had her relaxing her shoulders, though she hadn’t even realized she’d tensed until that moment. She’d known without looking it wasn’t him, still her body continued to betray her, anticipation flooding her system.
“Rust,” Alex called. “Someone to see you.”
Great.
Rusty straightened from the engine she was working on, wiped her hands on a rag, and turned to face the door.
Law, Reid’s friend and business manager, stood by the double roller doors, shoulder propped against the frame, taking in the workshop with sharp assessing eyes. “I can see why he wanted it.”
Prick.
Throwing the rag on the work bench, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You taking a shot now, Law? Did your boss send you to woo me as well, seduce me into handing over my business to him? Or maybe Pipe’s more to your taste? Alex is taken unfortunately. It’s just my sister and me to choose from. You like blondes or redheads?”
He pushed off the wall and came toward her. “Reid doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then why are you? Trying to earn yourself a Christmas bonus?”
He shook his head, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his leather cut. “He’s not the man you think he is, Rusty.”
“No?” Jesus, she did not need this right now. Did not want to hear whatever he was about to say. “And you’re here to what? Enlighten me?”
“You could say that.” He stared at her for a few uncomfortable seconds, then gave her a sharp nod, as if he’d made some kind of decision. “He fucked up. Big. No one knows that more than he does. I don’t know why, but he’s spent his life trying to prove to himself, to everyone else, that he’s not like that asshole father of his. And sometimes it makes him do stupid shit. But I can tell you now, he gave up on wanti
ng this place as soon as he spent time with you.”
Rusty mimicked his pose, crossing her arms, fighting to ignore the way those words struck their mark. “I doubt that very much. He’s a heartless, scheming bastard.”
“I don’t know if you know this, but the guys that work for him all have pasts, extremely shitty pasts. When everyone else gave up on them, Reid was the one who gave them a chance, was there for them.” He stared her down. “He’s a good man.”
God, she couldn’t bear to hear any more. Stay strong. She’d made her decision. Reid had forced her to when he’d used her to try to get what he wanted.
“Well, that gives me the warm fuzzies and all, but I don’t know what it has to do with me.”
“I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
“Because nothing you can say will make any of this okay. None of it.”
He shook his head, expression grim. “It was real, Rusty. All of it.”
Jesus, she wanted to believe him, believe what he was telling her, but how could she? What Reid planned to do was unforgivable, wasn’t it?
“You’re wasting your breath.” The words felt torn from her throat.
He dropped his arms to his sides. “Look I’ve…” He clenched his fists at his sides. “He’s messed up over you. And I mean messed up. I’ve never seen him this way, and it’s not about losing his shot at this place. Like I said, he forgot all about that when he spent time with you. I don’t know, maybe you could…”
“I’ve heard enough. Reid and me are through, okay?” She would not end up the same way her father did, always pining after the person who stomped all over your heart. She deserved better than that and so had her father.
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Fair enough. That’s your choice. I just thought you should know.”
“Well, now I do.” She tilted her head toward the door. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
After another uncomfortable pause, he gave her a curt nod and strode out the door.
She chose not to acknowledge the looks from her sister and Alex. No doubt Piper would give her a grilling when they were home later, but for now she didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about what Law had said. Didn’t want to feel the way his words had affected her.
So she bent back under the hood of the Caddy, and got to work.
There’d be plenty of time tonight, when she was alone, to dwell on what he’d said—then she could lock it away and get the hell over it.
What other choice did she have?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Reid’s house was dark when he drove up. Empty. This wasn’t news, of course. But right then, he would have done just about anything to avoid walking through the front door.
He’d been all set to work into the night and crash on the couch in his office again, but Law had kicked his ass out. It was either leave or admit he didn’t want to come home.
Coming home to his place did not hold the appeal it once had. Everything reminded him of Rusty. The breakfast bar, the couch, the living room, the fucking stairs leading up to his bedroom.
And let’s not get started on the bedroom itself. It was like her scent, sweet and intoxicating, had been absorbed into his mattress. He’d finally ripped off the sheets and changed them. But it didn’t matter, he could still smell her, and every damn morning he woke up hard and aching for her, reaching to the other side of the bed, searching her out. Then the haze of sleep would lift and he’d remember, remember how he’d screwed everything up.
He hit the garage door opener and, when it lifted, rolled in and killed the engine. Shoving the door open, he climbed out. The place was silent, except for the engine ticking as it started to cool down, and the sound of waves crashing into the beach. Maybe he’d go out for a night surf. Maybe if he wore himself out, he’d get some goddamn sleep tonight.
Slamming the car door, he palmed his keys to head inside, but a scrape from behind had him spinning around. A dark figure hovered by the door, swaying slightly.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Reaching out, he hit the garage light and took in the man standing across from him. “What’re you doing here?”
His old man squinted against the light, then lifted a bottle, clear liquid sloshing up to his cracked lips, taking two generous slugs. “I wanted to see my boy.” His words were slurred, and the gin he was sucking back, always his liquor of choice, dribbled down his chin. He looked like shit.
“Sure you did.” He planted his hands on his hips. “When did they let you out?”
“S’morning.” Lifting the hand gripping his precious gin he pointed a finger at Reid. “Why’d you have to go and call the cops on me, boy? You know I hate being locked up.”
“You broke the conditions of your restraining order. It was your own damn fault. You want to stay out of jail, stay away from her.”
His father’s face twisted into something resembling pain, then morphed into outright rage. “She’s my wife. You need to keep the fuck out of it. You’ve always been a mama’s boy, a gutless piece of shit. I should have ended your miserable little life when you were still in your mother’s belly, should have kicked you right out of there.” He wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “I tried, did you know that? I kicked and kicked, but you’d already gotten your hooks in, like the fucking parasite you are.”
It took all his strength to hold his ground, not to unleash all the pent-up anger he’d been carrying around over losing Rusty on the bastard standing in front of him. He’d heard the story before. It was one of the old man’s favorites. He loved to tell Reid how he broke three of his mother’s ribs while she was pregnant with him, how much pain she’d been in the entire nine months she carried him because of it. But his favorite part of the story, the part he relished telling, was how much she’d hated Reid because of it. How she could never really love him because he’d caused her nothing but hurt.
When he was a kid, he’d believed every word of it, believed that it was somehow his fault. That he’d hurt her. The bastard had taken advantage of the fact time and again.
His father wasn’t just a drunk, he was an evil, sadistic motherfucker, and he’d never change. So yeah, he wanted to take the bastard down. But he’d learned a long time ago that it wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t worth it.
“You need to leave now, before I call the cops again and they haul your ass in. And if you go near Ma, she’ll do the same.”
Instead of backing off, he stumbled forward. “I’m sick of you telling me what to do, ordering me about. You kicked me out of my own damn house, poisoned my wife against me. No more. You hear me?” He lifted his arm slowly, the one not clutching his bottle of gin, and brought up a gun. Then without batting an eyelid, pointed it at Reid’s face. “No more.”
The gun shook in his hand, but he kept it aimed on Reid. His father wanted him dead. It was there in his black, soulless eyes. He hated him, had always hated him, and was finally going to do something about it. “You don’t wanna do that, old man.” He took a step forward. “You don’t like jail? If you kill me, you’ll be going back inside, and you won’t be coming out.”
“Don’t take another step,” he slurred.
The shakes got worse. If he didn’t do something now, the gun could easily go off by accident.
“You took everything from me. My house, my wife. Once you’re gone I can have it all back. You got plenty of money, all those businesses. Who you think’s gonna get that when you’re six feet under? You ain’t got no kids.” He took another slug of gin, then licked his lips as if he could taste it, taste the money that would go to Reid’s mother if anything happened to him.
He searched his mind for something, anything to say that might stop this, but came up blank. What could he say? His father hated him enough to want him dead.
The rev of an engine broke through the silence, tires squealing as a car sped past the house. Just some kid going for a joyride, but his father turned his head to see what the noise was. Reid too
k his chance, the only one he’d get, and lunged. But his father spun back at the same time.
The smash of his gin bottle hitting the concrete floor was closely followed by an earsplitting explosion.
Then what felt like a fucking sledgehammer tore through him.
A second later, Reid hit the ground, hard.
Then everything went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A low incessant buzzing forced its way into Rusty’s dream, the same dream she’d had every night for the last few nights. Reid, lying behind her, heavy arm draped across her waist, face buried against her neck. They were talking, laughing, then she’d roll over, cupping his face, smiling up at him, and he’d whisper, “I love you, Rusty.”
The buzzing sound started up again, and she threw an arm out, grabbing her phone off the bedside table. What time was it? Had she slept in? Holding the phone in front of her face, she blinked several times, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the harsh light coming from the screen. 11:37 p.m.
She’d only been in bed for half an hour. The buzzing immediately started up again. She’d missed four calls, and the number flashing on the screen wasn’t one she recognized. Could be kids messing around, but then again—she hit the call button. “Hello?”
“Rusty?” A deep voice echoed down the line.
“Who is this?”
“Law.”
Law? “Why are you calling me in the middle of the damn night?”
“It’s Reid.” There was a pause. “You need to come to the hospital.”
She shoved off the blankets, swung her legs out of bed, and sat up. “What happened?”
“He’s been shot. He’s in rough shape. I don’t know…having you here…I think it could help.”
She was already on her feet, pulling clothes from her closet. “Where are you?”
Law rattled off which hospital they were at and where to find them, then disconnected.
Reid’s been shot.
Law’s words echoed through her head like someone was pounding on a gong, the words getting louder and louder until she wanted to clutch her head in an attempt to stop it.
Revved (Axle Alley Vipers) Page 18