Rocki tensed, the idea making her ridiculously uncomfortable. From the corner of her eye, she saw a red flush creeping up Clayton's neck, across his face. His voice was easy enough as he said, "Oh, I've got all sorts of issues. My kid sister's best friend is dating a lawyer—that would give anybody a complex."
"Yeah, I'm still seeing the lawyer." Absently, she toyed with her hair. She'd woven it into two long braids today. Unaware of the smile on her face, she stared out the window. "We're going out tomorrow night."
Third date. She could definitely have sex with him on their third date, she thought. His place? Hers? She didn't know, didn't care.
"Man. I gotta get out of here," Clayton said, his voice brusque. "I can't stand to see you standing there with that smile on your face...over a lawyer."
As he left, Lacey shot Rocki a look, and they both started to laugh.
"I'd like to see you tonight."
Gripping the phone in one hand, Rocki pressed her other hand to her belly. Slow it down …just a little. But out loud, she simply replied, "Tomorrow will be here before you know it. What happened to whatever urgent thing you had come up tonight?"
"Fell apart." Cole sighed. "Work stuff. Didn't happen."
"Ahhh." She finished shutting down the computer and then stood up, began making a circuit around the shop. It had been a slow day. Usually things got slower after Valentine's Day, then picked back up again sometime in March when people started getting a lot more serious about weddings and stuff. She was used to it mostly, but slow days were still tedious.
"‘Ahhh'...what does that mean, exactly?"
"Just that." She smiled as she paused by a table and straightened up the display there. Rocki was honest enough with herself to admit that she was tempted to tell Cole he could come over, but she was still a little leery.
Two dates. And one wild night of sex.
And she was restless. Edgy. Plus, irritated as hell, still, from the discussion with Clayton earlier. Not exactly ideal company, really. And damn it, if he wanted to see her, couldn't he just ask?
Well, he sort of did, a calm, rational voice pointed out. Rocki brushed it off. That hadn't been asking. He'd just been mentioning it. He hadn't asked.
"So, tomorrow, right? Six?" She needed to get off the phone now before she started clueing him in on her psycho mood swings.
"Six." He hesitated, almost like he wanted to say something else. But then he sighed. "You have a good night, Rocki. Think about me."
"Hmmm. I do that all too often, handsome." Then she lowered the phone and disconnected, staring off into nothing.
If she'd wanted you to come over, she would have asked, he thought. Cole figured he needed to turn around. Go back home. Spend the night alone.
But he didn't.
He made a couple of stops. The liquor store for a bottle of wine. A small boutique that was open later than some, selling chocolate and flowers.
She hadn't had much of a Valentine's Day, right? He could make up for that.
And see her.
He just wanted to see her. No. Needed to.
And even if it was just for a few minutes, it was better than nothing.
Rocki finished up in the store twenty-five minutes later. Brooding and wishing she'd maybe asked Cole to meet her, she locked up and started toward her car.
It was cold, the bite of winter still heavy in the air, despite the fact that it was almost near the end of February. The corset she wore managed to keep her warmer than one would think, and the camisole she wore under it rose high enough to keep her chest from being too cold. She'd always been terribly lazy with coats. She had one on now, but as always, she hadn't bothered to button it and she was cold.
As she hurried toward her car, the low, thick heels of her motorcycle boots thudding heavily on the ground, she muttered, "Spring. I want spring."
Warm sun.
Longer days.
Fewer shadows-
Suddenly, one of the shadows shifted.
Rocki jerked her head up as a man emerged from them. Her breath caught in her chest, lodged there.
In the past ten years, Dwayne Carpenter's solid body hadn't softened much. He'd played football in college and a lot of that bulk was still there.
He looked…older, though. Older. Meaner. As he lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, she suppressed a shiver, remembering just how much pain those big hands had been capable of causing.
He had very cold, very cruel eyes—she hadn't seen that back all those years ago. At least not right away. But it was unmistakable now. She went still, staring at him. With one hand in her pocket, she gripped her phone and wondered if she could call 9-1-1 without him noticing.
"Hello, Roxanne." That voice—fuck. Lower than it used to be, raspier. Harsher. That voice was distinctive, and she knew she'd heard it before…and recently. The night of the auction. Son of a bitch. It had been him there that night, the other one bidding on her.
"Dwayne."
He took a step toward her. Her first instinct was to step back, but she didn't. She held her ground, watching him, as he closed the distance even more. "You look as beautiful as ever."
She didn't respond. What was the point?
"Nothing to say?"
"And why should I say anything?" Rocki lifted a brow. "You want me to say thanks to the man who tried to rape me eleven years ago?"
Somebody ugly and cold flashed through his eyes. But he smiled.
"Perhaps you should be saying ‘thank you' to the man who never stopped loving you. Never stopped thinking about you. I saw you at the auction—you looked lovely, but you shouldn't parade around like that. It's…not acceptable."
Acceptable? She curled her lip at him.
He was closer now and he lifted a hand. But before he could touch her, Rocki used her left arm to block him, putting enough force behind it that it sent a jolt clear up her arm. "Don't touch me," she warned.
"Bitch." A snarl twisted his face. "Don't you fucking know what I do when you piss me off? And your cop's not around any more...yeah, I heard about that. He can't protect you now."
Rocki smiled. "I don't need a man protecting me, Dwayne." She shifted, set her feet, absently saying a prayer of gratitude that she'd put on a different kind of shoes today. Normally, she would have worn something with high heels. But today, she'd pulled on a pair of Harley Davidson boots-flat and heavy with solid, sturdy soles. She could move just fine, without worrying about breaking an ankle.
Hate and possessiveness burned in Dwayne's eyes. "Don't you? You hid behind him for years. Fucking cunt. Can't do it now, though—I finally heard he got what was coming to him, that fucker. Rotting in his grave and you can't hide behind him."
"I didn't hide behind him. I married him." Slipping a hand into her coat pocket, she said, "You need to leave now. Just get the hell away and stay away. I've already called the cops about the cards and the flowers. The investigating officer is already looking for you."
"Is he?" Dwayne laughed. "That's funny, because I'm not here tonight—I got a friend who will swear I was working on a car with him."
Then he lunged for her.
Rocki shifted her weight and kicked. The fucking corset threw her balance off, but she managed, driving the sidekick straight into his gut. As he stumbled backward, she settled back onto her feet. "I'm not the helpless girl you remember, jackass."
Cutting a wide berth around him, she started toward her car. She was going to get inside, lock the fucking door, and get away from here. Once she did that, she'd call the cops.
Wine. Chocolate. Flowers. All accounted for. Cole was going to swing by the shop first, make sure she wasn't there. Part of him kind of hoped she was, and part of him—the very perverted, very male part of him-was wondering if he could talk her into modeling a few pieces she had in her store...for him. It was a fantasy he'd been living with all damn week.
Although he realized that might be sort of rushing things.
He couldn't stop thinking about her, though.
>
All the time—she was in his head, all the time. Could you fall in love that fast? Was it healthy to even think he could have fallen in love that fast?
He was just a couple of weeks out of a break-up, and although it hadn't been a bad one on his part, he realized he should maybe take things slower with Rocki.
Be patient.
Make sure he wasn't just reacting to Rocki because of some latent issues with Mara-
His phone rang.
And the ringtone had him swearing.
Speak of the devil...or the Wicked Witch of High Street.
He almost ignored it. But he figured he might as well see what she wanted so he wasn't ignoring phone calls every ten minutes for the rest of the night. Parking in front of Rocki's store, he answered the phone.
Dwayne was still damn fast, a fact that Rocki figured out only seconds before she would have been in her car. She saw him coming and darted away, refusing to be caught between him and any object, even if it was her car.
"You need to leave me alone," she warned him, her voice shaking.
He needed to leave her alone, and he needed to do it now because damn it,that look in his eyes was terrifying.
Damned terrifying.
"Do I?" He sneered and made another grab for her. This time, thick, strong fingers caught the sleeve of her coat.
With a desperate jerk, she tore away from him, stumbling a little before she caught her balance. "Stop it, Dwayne. You think you're not going to get caught, you fucking idiot? You'll be the first person they look at."
He only laughed. This time, when he came after her, he moved too fast. She hit him—something in her hand snapped—she felt it, the hot, vicious pain so bright and hot. Blood fountained from his nose and spilled all over her as he took her down.
The air exploded out of her lungs and seconds later, she was struggling to breathe at all as he shoved his forearm against her throat, using his other hand to tear at the busk of her corset. "Bitch. My fucking bitch and you won't forget it this time."
Black dots swirled in front of her. Pain, ugly and clawing, tore through her. Couldn't black out—couldn't. Her right hand was useless. But she'd be damned if she would let this happen to her again. A sweet gust of air rushed into her lungs as he lifted his weight just a little, still struggling to loosen the corset-
The absurd, foolishness of those actions might have made her laugh hysterically if she could have spared the breath. There was no way he'd get her out of it that easily. But between his weight crushing her, and the corset itself, she couldn't laugh at the futility of it—he might as well have been trying to tie his shoes using his teeth.
It cleared her brain just a bit, though. Enough for her to flex her left hand, still laying curled and free on the ground beside her. He thought she wouldn't fight. Bastard. Brushing her hand along the ground, she searched for something—anything. When her hand touched something round, cold and smooth, she gripped it. A bottle—all the bottles that littered the back parking lot. They usually pissed her off.
Just then, she could have kissed the litterbug.
Curling her hand around it, she lifted it. "Dwayne..."
Chapter Nine
The sound of a scream froze his blood.
Forgetting about Mara's whining demand for answers, forgetting about everything, Cole took off running up the narrow alley that ran between Rocki's store and the building next door. As he ran, he called 9-1-1.
He tore into the back parking lot just in time to see her bringing something down on a man's head.
She was pinned beneath him—pale, struggling.
Cole exploded.
With a roar, he dove for the other man, taking him down.
The next few seconds passed in a blur, yet some parts were insanely clear. He could remember shoving the bastard to the pavement, could remember driving his fist into his face, once. Twice.
Then he remembered, clear as day, a hand on his arm.
Rocki.
Then there were sirens.
"You're wasting you're fucking time," Dwayne said, his voice thick and nasally, distorted by his broken nose and a swollen lip.
Between the head injury Rocki had dealt him with the broken bottle and the damage Cole had done, the man was not in good shape. But he was still belligerent and full of attitude as he fought against the cop who was slapping him into cuffs.
"Stupid bitch won't do a damn thing," he said, smirking at her. "Not a damn thing."
Rocki stared at him. "That's where you're wrong."
She was pale, shaking from the strain and cradling her right hand.
But she wouldn't go to the hospital. Not yet. Not until she saw that fuck into the police car. Not until she saw them take him away.
And not until she told him. Not until she let him know. He wouldn't control any part of her life. Not through her memories, not through fear. Although her legs shook under her with every step, she wasn't going to hide meekly behind the cops. Even as they tried to pull her back, she evaded them. Clayton tried to block her way and she stopped, looking up at him.
"Relax...I'm not going to try and kill him or anything."
Shifting her gaze, she stared around her friend to look at Dwayne. "I want him to suffer more than that."
Cautiously, Clayton lowered his arm.
Rocki didn't try to get any closer. "You think I won't press charges this time," she said quietly. "Because I didn't last time. But that's where you're wrong. I'll press charges...and if I can see your ass in jail, I'll pat myself on the back for it."
He snarled. "You fucking bitch."
She smiled.
"I'll fucking gut you—" One of the cops stepped between them then and started muscling him into the ambulance waiting to take him in for treatment... before he was hauled to the police station. "Should have already done it!"
Rocki ignored him, focusing on the silent, somber-eyed man who waited by yet another ambulance. This one was hers, she suspected. She needed to get her hand looked at. And she was feeling more than a little...disconnected. Shock, maybe?
She didn't know. Didn't care. The only thing that mattered just then was getting to Cole and wrapping her arms around his waist. Pain shrieked through her as she hit her busted hand, though, chasing some of the fog away. Whimpering, she shifted around, resting her side against Cole's front.
As one of the paramedics approached, she shot him a narrow look.
"My white knight..."
He didn't say anything, just curled an arm around her shoulders, his face pressed to her hair.
He was shaking. Shaking almost as badly as she was.
"Damn it, Rocki..."
She closed her eyes at the broken, hoarse sound of his voice. "I'm okay." Then she flinched as the medic twisted her arm upward. "Okay, I'm hurt...but I'm okay."
His mouth pressed to her temple. "I don't think I want to let you out of my sight. Not for a year, at least. We could go to the beach. Stay there for a year. I can make sure you're safe. You can heal. We'd both be happy."
"Hmmm. Don't tempt me."
"Before you go taking off to the beach, you need to hit the hospital," the paramedic said. He had a sympathetic look on his face as he gently wrapped her wrist. "You need x-rays."
Her belly cramped and fear shot through her. X-rays. Those weren't bad. Right? She could do that. Something had to be broken. She needed to get it set, she knew that. Even though the medicine the paramedic had given had taken the edge off the pain, it still hurt pretty bad. She could handle going to the hospital, getting x-rays and letting them set it. No reason to feel terrified.
But she could already feel that terror creeping through her.
Focusing on the paramedic, she tried not to let the panic show.
"Yeah, I figured as much." The inside of her cheek was all but bloody from how many times she'd bitten it to keep from crying out. Her fingers were fat and swollen, discolored. "Damn, I did a number on them, didn't I?"
"You did." A smile twitched on the
paramedic's lips as he glanced at her. "The man may have a head like a rock, but maybe he'll think twice before he messes with you again. I suspect you broke his nose."
"Not enough," Cole muttered behind her. He pressed his lips to her neck and sighed. "It's not enough."
The paramedic's gaze met his—a look passed between them. No, a broken nose wasn't enough, not nearly.
"What? No...oh, no..." Rocki came up off the table, shrugging away Cole's hands, ignoring the look on the doctor's face, ignoring just about everything except for one thing.
The door. The door was all that mattered. Because she had to get out of here. He'd just said surgery. She'd been prepared for x-rays and maybe one shot while they set the bones. Not surgery.
"Calm down, Rocki..." Cole caught her around the waist, one gentle hand stroking her hair back. Through the thin cotton of the T-shirt he'd rummaged up from somewhere—she wasn't putting on those stupid gowns-she could feel the warmth of his chest. And if she hadn't been so terrified, she might have relaxed against him, just let him hold her for a while. But the doctor had said surgery.
"Calm down?" She shook her head. "No. I won't calm down, damn it!"
"Ms. Monroe, listen, if we don't do the surgery, your hand isn't going to heal right. It's not just a simple break and the bones in the hand are delicate."
In the calm, logical part of her brain that could still think past the pain, past the terror, she knew he was making sense. And she needed her hands. But, surgery. Rocki didn't have too many crippling fears, but surgery was probably one of them. Alright, not probably. It was one of them.
Feeling like a foolish child, she turned around and pressed her face against Cole's chest. "I can't do this," she whispered.
"Shhh. It's okay."
As she curled against him, Cole thought his heart was going to break.
She'd been clinging to control by her fingertips all night, made it through the questioning from Clayton, tolerated the exam, although he'd suspected she had a fear of doctors even then.
Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission Page 9