by K. S. Adkins
My biggest mistake is turning back to look at her face. Because the look of confusion is there, it is written all over herm and it almost makes me stop, almost.
But I don’t, I keep right on going.
Minutes have passed since he screamed in my face, accusing me of those men’s deaths. The look on his face was pure disgust because he thinks I’m capable of that. He thinks I’m capable of murder. I mean, depending on the situation, I think everyone is, but I don’t go around killing people for sport. I can’t say I’ve only killed one person and not sound insane, but it’s true. The asshole also had it coming, and taking Briggs out was justified.
He slammed the door on his way out and since then I’ve been sitting here wondering what just happened. Why did Venessa throw me under the bus like that? I’d never do that to her. Listen, I’ve killed one person, but she’s killed many. I would never throw that in her face because she was doing what she had to do, just like I did.
Marcus Mason was married to Suzanne Mason, who came in for stiches and broken ribs once again. Marcus was in banking. He flaunted his money and his women in front of his wife, so she left him. When he decided he wanted her back and she refused he would use force and then continue to do so as punishment for having to find her.
When she came in, she must have sensed I could relate, because she told me everything. The last time he hit her, he has four of his boys with him and the assholes held her down while he abused and threatened to kill her if she told anyone. She told me, and I promised I wouldn’t say anything if she ran. I begged her to run and to stay gone. Last time I spoke to her, she had, and was finding her way back to happy. So I did what any woman would do. I tracked them and dosed them good. Granted, I left them in alleys after, but the amount I gave them would have left them feeling like shit at best, and tossed by bangers at worst. But I didn’t kill anyone.
Sending Venessa a text, I keep it simple. That bus you threw me under? Pretty sure it had four-wheel drive and the driver was you. Hugs n disses!
Snapping myself out of it, I decide staring at the door isn’t doing me any favors, and neither will staying where I clearly am not wanted. If what he said about Venessa was true, which I suspect it is, then it’s best I make other arrangements. Packing a bag and my work I call a cab, and wanting out of the house, I wait on the porch for my ride. Sending Ben a quick message letting him know I’ll be there if he wants to study, I ignore the calls from Venessa and hope the cab shows up before Jonas or she does.
Walking into the lab I’m surprised Ben beat me to it, but he did, and oddly enough I am regretting texting him now. I can’t make up my mind to save my life today. Ben has been a friend of mine for a while now and I’ve treated him badly. Life would have been so much easier if I could have fallen for Ben, but I just couldn’t. He’s tall, well-built, sandy blond hair with blue eyes, and a killer smile. Women would go nuts for him, and why shouldn’t they? He’s smart, excels at everything, and he’s extremely sweet, too, but for whatever reason, I prefer my men to have anger issues and to think the worst of me.
As soon as I clear the door, he looks up and gives me that smile, I give him what smile I can muster in return and place my things on the table next to his. He pulls my stool out and I thank him, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asks in his own quiet way, trying to get us back on solid ground.
“No.” I answer him. “I just want to study.”
He nods, getting back to his own work. I get lost in my own in no time. His phone rings; he leaves the room to answer it, but comes back in and gets back to it. Looking at the screen, the words starts to jumble and my mouth starts getting salty. Swallowing quickly, I will it to pass, but now my stomach’s turning upside down and I can’t stop myself from leaning over to the garbage can and chucking my guts up. The pizza and red pop make a vicious appearance not once, but twice. I hear Ben’s stool move and he comes over and holds my hair back while rubbing my back to comfort me.
My stomach is really unsettled and I feel more lunch coming back up, but I fight it back. He touches my forehead and confirms I don’t have a fever. I also don’t have the sweats, so I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I never get sick outside of a cold. Working in a hospital, I’ve been given every flu shot known to man, so I reason it’s the pizza and Faygo. Ben helps me right myself on the stool and advises me to take little breaths, which helps. His care for me breaks that last thread of dignity I was holding onto, and all the pain I feel comes out in one big wail.
Immediately, he puts his arms around me and lets me get it out. In my misery I even wrap my arms around him and hold on for dear life. My heart is shriveling up, I can feel it happening, and even with everything Jonas said and even knowing he’s done with me, I still would give anything to have it be him holding me. When Ben asks me again if I want to talk about it, I shake my head no and force myself to go back to work. Another two hours or so later I’m so exhausted that I grab my phone to check the time and see I’ve missed five calls and at least twenty texts from Venessa. I also note not a single message is from Jonas. I had hoped once he had time to cool off I’d hear from him, but I guess when he’s done, he’s done.
Ben tells me he’s calling it a night. I tell him I am too, and ask him if he can drop me at the MGM. He agrees, but I can see he’s baffled as to why I’m staying at a casino hotel, but I don’t answer because I just need to get there so I can fall apart in private.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’m checked in and walking to my suite. Not knowing what else to do, I call my friend Jules. If anyone can make sense of this, it’s her. Normally it’s Venessa, but for obvious reasons, she won’t be getting the call today.
There was a time when the four of us were seriously tight, but life happened and we all went out our own ways. I keep in touch with Jules because she’s really down to earth and has a wicked cool career with Special Forces. I don’t get to talk to Lina much because that’s just her way, but I miss her, too. My loyalty was always to Venessa, making sure she was okay, and always being there if she needed me. The girls got that and never gave me shit for it, and I’ve always appreciated that.
So when I get her voicemail, I start crying all over again. Shit. I really needed her ear. I leave her a message asking for a call back, giving her my room number because my battery is going to die. Over the last few months, I’ve kept her clued in on what’s been happening here, but most especially about all things Jonas. Finally all cried out, I curl up in my bed, shut my phone down, and promptly pass out.
In doing so, I didn’t know I missed two important messages. One from Jules, who panicked and called Venessa. The other from Venessa, who was desperate to reach me and explain. But none of those things happened so, instead of trying to put myself back together in private, I made an already shit situation worse.
Driving aimlessly fucking sucks. I’ve passed the Quicken building twice now, and I know I’ll end up at Rogan’s eventually, but fuck if I feel like heading there and hearing more shit about Macy’s fuck up. However, when he calls and tells me to haul ass over, I do. Walking up his drive I can hear Venessa yelling that she doesn’t want me here, but he insists we handle this shit. Wait, she doesn’t want me here? What the fuck did I do?
Meeting me at the door he motions for me to sit on the porch, so I do that, too. Venessa comes out, phone in one hand, Boner in the other, all kinds of pissed off. Before either of us can speak she gives it to me the only way Venessa can: brutally.
“You’re a fucking dick!” she growls at me, and clearly Rogue is wearing off on her. “You hung up on me before I could finish! Now she’s pissed at me and not answering! What did you do?”
“I heard every word,” I argue back. “I was done listening to you, and I didn’t do anything. Pretty sure she’s the one you should be pissed at. I did what needed to be done. You’d be proud of her, though. Her acting skills are fucking stellar.”
“What?” she whispers. “Rafe, what di
d you do?” Looking over at Rogue with despair he pulls her under his arm and glares at me.
“Why are you two mean-muggin’ me right now?” I force out. “She’s the one who fucked up, not me. She can play innocent and dumb all she wants, but I told her ain’t no way Rogue is gonna let you go down with her.”
Venessa pales and clutches her phone trying to make a call, holding it to her she looks at Rogue and says, “Voicemail,” and then his face pales. The fuck?
“Goddammit, Rafe,” he yells. “If there’s a way to fuck shit up, you’re gonna find it.”
“Me?” I laugh. “I didn’t fucking kill five guys, partner.”
“No?” he asks.
“No,” I repeat.
“Well neither did she, partner,” he says, holding Venessa steady.
“What?”
“She’s being set up,” he says, getting in my face. “Jesus fuck, you actually thought she did it? The fuck did you say to her?”
“I — I —” There were no words coming from my mouth.
“We have to find her, Rogue,” says Venessa, ignoring me.
“She was on the couch when I left,” I offer, feeling like shit.
“And you honestly fucking think she’d stay on your goddamn couch?” she screams at me. “How she found it in her to go for your sorry ass, I’ll never know. You fuck shit up left and right, but she forgives you every fucking time. You didn’t let me finish and immediately you think the worst of her? I’m not rallying for you anymore, Rafe. If she ever finds it in her heart to forgive your ass, I’ll —”
“Angel,” Rogue interrupts. “Enough.”
“If something happens to her because of you,” — she says crying —“I will never forgive you.” With that, she walks back in the house and slams the door.
“Rogue …” I start.
“You just need to be quiet for once, man,” he says. “Venessa called you so you could protect her. You know, the way you always yap about doin’. I cannot believe you even thought —” Shaking his head he starts again “Go home and get her stuff, all right? Just go get it and leave it here. She’s staying with us.”
With tears stuck in my throat I tell him “I’ll find her.” I choke out, “I’ll fix it.”
“Ain’t no fixin’ this one,” he says quietly. “Real disappointed in you, partner. Pray hard we find her and that she’s safe.”
Turning away, he walks through the door, closing it in my face. Taking a moment to figure out where to start first, I jump in the truck and decide to start with the lab. Flashing my badge, security lets me pass and I head down the hall and peer in the window. How long I stood there, I don’t know. Seeing her there with him pissed me right the fuck off, but it was when she bent over to puke in the garbage can and he jumped up to help her that had me alarmed.
However, it was when I saw her crying and wrapping her arms around him that I realized what the pain crushing my chest was. It was … my heart breaking. Once again, I’m responsible for it, all of it.
Watching her collect herself and settle back in, I try to walk away but I can’t. Standing there for at least an hour and a half, I don’t take my eyes off of her, and she doesn’t look up or speak to Ben. I see her reach in for her phone then I watch her face fall when she looks at it. Fuck, she wouldn’t see any calls from me. She stands up and starts packing her things while Ben does the same. She asks him a question at which he nods, but before they make it to the door I’m already halfway to my truck.
Following them, I watch him take my woman to the MGM and walk in with her while his arm is around her shoulder. He’s touching her while I pound my fists into my steering wheel, wishing it was his goddamn face. Trying not to jump to conclusions for once, I wait another ten minutes and when he doesn’t make an appearance, I do exactly as Rogan asked. I drive home, pack, up her things, and leave them on his front porch. Seeing as I drove her to another guy after breaking her down, really, it was the least I could do.
I feel like ass. I’ve got puke breath and I’m fucking starving. Screw this, I think to myself, I’m going back to sleep, but just as I turn over I hear my door open and watch Venessa and Rogan walk right on in. So much for privacy. Does that Do Not Disturb sign mean anything these days? I try giving them both my best glare, but they look so happy, I wonder what the hell I missed.
“Thank fuck,” says Rogan, while Venessa waits for me to address her.
“What are you two doing here?”
“Bringing you home,” he says. “We were worried.”
“Really?” I ask with attitude. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Jules called me,” Venessa says, joining in. “She tried calling you back but you didn’t answer either phone. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Well, here I am,” I say, sitting up, which was a stupid idea. “Oh fuck,” I mutter, before leaning over and chucking in the garbage can again, twice. I never knew my stomach could hold that much and at that moment, I wasn’t happy that it could.
“You’re sick?” she asks, rubbing my back. “You never get sick.”
“Pizza,” I groan holding my stomach. “Faygo too, red pop.”
“Rogue, help her up,” she says, grabbing my bags. “We’re leaving.”
For once, I have nothing to say. I just want to sleep so with that, I let him pick me up and carry me all the way down to the Yukon, which no shit … is an impressive ride. Venessa keeps looking at me with worry, but I have no energy to argue. When we pull up to their house, Rogue comes around to get me, and even though I say I can walk, he carries me anyway. Turns out that was a good thing because when we get on the porch and I see all my stuff there, I did the only thing I could do. I tuck my face into his big chest and bawl my fucking eyes out.
He holds me in his lap for hours. He also makes me sit there, sip Vernor’s, and snack on crackers while Venessa explains what really happened. So yeah, thankfully the three of us are straight now, especially V and me. But Jonas, without even hearing the entire conversation, immediately thought the worst of me, and coming to terms with that will take some time and ice cream. I dodn’t think it necessary to share all the nasty things he said, but I do share a few, and if Rogan’s face is anything to go by, I probably shouldn’t have.
While Venessa makes dinner I stay on the couch nursing my queasy stomach. I vow to never eat pizza or drink red pop again. Great going down, murder coming back up. Ben being Ben had texted me several times, and I assure him I am okay and thank him for the ride. He tells me he won two hundred bucks at the casino and is heading home. Rogan takes off and says he has “Some shit to do,” so the house is quiet except for Boner sleeping on my belly. Just thinking of my belly or moving too quick has me swallowing it back. Please, no more chucking. Closing my eyes, I scratch Boner’s little head and wish I could stop myself from thinking about Jonas. I just can’t; in fact, our first and only time making love is on loop in my brain, and it’s depressing the hell out of me.
The whole thing was beautiful, everything I had always wanted, but more. He was just fucking perfect. He had cared about my pleasure, we had connected, and it was amazing. We were so in tune with each other, even when we’re sloppy and out of control, it was amazing. We both put our issues aside and just felt. Before him, I never knew what it could be like. I didn’t know it could be like that. Stupidly I had thought men liked it rough, liked taking the lead, and liked women who did, too. Turns out, in my stupidity that putting all men in one category was the wrong thing to do. He’s not like any guy I’ve ever known. Everything about him is different, and truth? I didn’t know what to do with it.
How Jonas makes me feel is nothing short of amazing. Whether he was moving fast or slow, gentle or hard, I loved it all simply because it was him doing it. Feeling him inside of me, watching it come over him, having him finish inside of me …
Eyes wide open, I jackknife up, sending Boner flying. “Venessa!” I yell and in seconds she comes running.
“What?” she says looki
ng around with a knife in hand. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to get to the pharmacy, now.”
The thing about girlfriends is, we know how to rally. Keys in hand, dog in kennel, we make it to the pharmacy quick. Twelve bucks and two roadside vomits later, I’m in Venessa’s bathroom bawling my eyes out for a completely different reason.
“Rogue,” she whispers in shock. “We need you back here like yesterday.” Disconnecting, we look at each other, but no words come out. What the fuck is there to say about this shit?
Sitting in my kitchen staring at my phone on the counter wasn’t making me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse because I’ve had her number for months, but because I saw her every day I never needed to use it. Now I need to use it but I don’t know what to say. “Sorry I thought you were a murderer? My bad,’” or maybe, “Come on, you know you’re kinda crazy, so what was I supposed to think?,” or possibly, “It’s our first fight, you have to forgive me and then blow me; it’s a rule.”
Exactly, I’m fucked.
However, there’s no time for me examine my head anymore because Rogue pulls up, so I can only imagine what he has to say to me now. Storming through the front he doesn’t say anything; instead he just charges and bulldozes me right into my stainless steel Frigidaire. Breathing through his nostrils, it’s fair to say he wants to kill me right now, and in my state of mind, I’d probably let him.
“Got something to say?” I ask, but instead of answering, he throws me into the living room, shoving me onto on my couch while he takes the other side. Pinning me with that I’ll kill you if you move look, I stay seated.
“I let a lot of shit go when you first met Venessa because, I knew you were worried about me. I didn’t know shit about females,” he says, looking me straight in the eyes. Knowing to keep my trap shut, I listen. “Always thought you were big with the ladies, turns out you were full of shit. You don’t know dick, Rafe, and it fucking shows. You never got my feelings for her; you weren’t supposed to because those were my feelings for her. You set your eyes on Macy, my girl’s only family, and you not only hurt her every chance you got, but when that ain’t enough, you’d kick her while she’s down too. Three hours, motherfucker,” he growls at me, then stands walking to the door.