by Jenn Hype
It took all of two seconds for Blake to take in the scene before her. My hand wrapped around Clarissa’s wrist while her other hand covered my crotch and her breasts pressed up against my chest.
If I’m being completely honest, I expected Blake to assume the worst and run out crying. Or punch me. I should have known better though. Blake never did a damn thing like you’d expect her to. Instead of freaking the hell out, she straightened to full height and honed in on Clarissa. Her mouth tipped up in a condescending grin, her arms crossed as she straightened to her full height and stuck out her hip and her eyes…
I shuddered. Too many emotions in those eyes to even be able to process. I was surprised Clarissa didn’t burst into flames right there in my office under the heat of Blake’s glare.
I dropped Clarissa’s hand and took a giant step back from her, swiftly removing myself from the crossfire. The two women stared each other down like they were in some sort of Mexican stand off. I started to wonder if either of them were ever going to speak, or if I should prepare for them to simultaneously launch themselves at each other with their claws out. In the end, Blake was the one who spoke first.
Her smile turned syrupy sweet, but her eyes never lost their heat. “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow any soliciting in the office. You’ll have to go back to your corner and try to lure men into the alley with the offer of a twenty-dollar blow job the old fashioned way.”
Beside me, Clarissa gasped. I, on the other hand, went back and forth between anger and amusement. Honestly, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh my ass off or yell at Blake for being unprofessional. In the end, Clarissa made the decision for me when she snapped her head in my direction and let out an indignant huff.
“Are you going to let her speak to me that way?” She demanded, looking on the verge of a tantrum. I half expected her to stomp her foot. When I didn’t respond right away, her eyes narrowed, and I knew shit was about to get real. “Either you fire her or I’ll be making a phone call to my father. I’m sure he’d love to hear how the company he’s invested tens of thousands of dollars into accused his daughter of being a prostitute.”
I sighed internally. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Clarissa had been behaving inappropriately, but Blake had handled the situation all wrong. Did I reprimand my girlfriend and cause what I was sure to be a huge fight? Or did I piss off the client whose dad could probably destroy me with one phone call?
With only a split second to decide, I went with my gut.
“Blake, you’re dismissed for the day. We’ll discuss this later.”
I could tell by the hurt on her face that I was going to pay for my decision later. I could only hope that Blake would understand once I explained. This wasn’t personal; it was about the business I’d built from the ground up. I employed more than a dozen people now, more than half of which were veterans. They counted on me to remain professional and ensure their jobs were safe. To put all that in jeopardy because Blake might see it as some sort of betrayal just wasn’t an option I could afford.
Workplace relationships really were a bad idea, apparently.
After the door closed behind Blake, I turned to face Clarissa, who was looking at me like I was some sort of hero. Fucking women. Always reading into every damn thing.
“Look, Clarissa,” I started, trying to convey with my tone just how serious I was. “I apologize for my employee’s outburst, but your behavior really is quite inappropriate and to be honest, it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve not wanted to say anything because both you and your father are valued clients, but I can’t allow this type of conduct to continue. I’m sorry if that offends you. I assure you, it’s not personal. That being said, if you can’t respect my need for boundaries, I’m afraid I’ll have to refer you to another private security firm for your future needs.”
Clarissa surprised me by looking chagrined. I expected her to have a fit and toss out threats to ruin my business or maim my body. Apparently it wasn’t only Blake I couldn’t predict. I knew jack shit when it came to women.
“You’re totally right, and I’m very, sincerely sorry. I promise, from now on I’ll behave.”
She apologized so quickly and so easily that I couldn’t help but wonder if it was genuine. Not that it mattered, so long as she didn’t try to manhandle me anymore.
She quickly gathered her stuff and darted out the door without a backward glance.
I ran my hand down my face. My desk was piled high with shit that needed done, but talking to Blake before she let her imagination go wild was the priority. Before I could leave, though, I needed to talk to Reed. As expected, he was sitting in front of his sixty-thousand computer screens, giant headphones encasing his head and his focus riveted on the computer he was typing on. His fingers flew over the keyboard, spitting out at approximately seventeen-thousand words per minute. The guy was scary talented. And when I say scary, I mean that literally. Reed could hack the president’s phone if I asked him to.
Even distracted, Reed noticed me enter the room and he pulled his headphones back, laying them around his neck before swiveling in his chair to face me.
“Sup, boss?”
“Need you to look into someone for me.” I gave him Dan’s information and filled him in on what happened the night before.
“Holy shit, is she okay? Is that why she ran out of here crying like a half hour ago?”
“Fuck, she was crying?”
I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Three times. Her phone was either off or dead.
“Can you pull up Blake’s last location?”
Reed eyed me warily. Employees didn’t hesitate when I gave an order, even if I phrased it as a request. That he seemed unsure about trusting me pissed me off.
“Fucking do it, Reed.”
“Okay, jeez.” He spun back around and did his freaky typing thing, then a map popped up on his screen. “Looks like the last ping happened about the time she took off and we’re in the radius, so my best guess is she turned her phone off before leaving.”
“Fuck this,” I growled, shoving away from Reed’s desk before storming out the door.
I wasn’t going to go chasing after Blake. This bullshit drama was the exact reason relationships were a waste of fucking time. As much as I cared about Blake, all the reasons pursuing something more with her were a bad idea were rising to the surface. I’d been distracted at work, almost lost a major client because of her, and I’d just been planning to take off early. My priorities had shifted, and if I wasn’t careful, everything I’d worked so hard to build was going to fall apart right before my eyes all because of a tiny little redhead who upturned my entire life like an F5 tornado with a vengeance.
I should have gone back to my office to finish my day, but I needed a break. The guys were like brothers to me, but that meant they’d want to come poke their noses into my business all damn day and until I got my shit together, I didn’t have it in me to deal with their prying.
So for the first time in years, I headed to a bar. Not since my first year back from overseas had I wallowed in self pity and drank myself into oblivion. I’d spent maybe a month using alcohol to numb the pain before getting my shit together. But did I ever really have my shit together? Before the war, or even before Blake? I’d always kept people mostly at arm’s length, but after my discharge, I shut down even more. Blocked out my mom, my sisters, my friends. Shoving aside the painful memories of what happened, and then the feeling of worthlessness that followed when I lost half my leg - it was all easier when I didn’t feel at all.
Could I even go back to that numb, completely closed-off way of living now if I tried? Did I want to?
Part of me said yes. That shutting down whatever was happening between Blake and me would be for the best. That going back to living a life of isolation would be better for everyone.
But I knew better. Even if I never saw Blake again - a thought that had my chest restricting so tightly it fel
t like I was about to keel over on the bar right there and have a heart attack - I would never be the same. I wasn’t the same aimless, bitter man that came back to the states some odd years ago. I ran a lucrative security business that employed good men who struggled to get jobs and I truly loved every second of it. And I’d done that, missing leg and all. If I wanted to have my fucking cake and eat it too, then I damn well would. I could balance running a company and having a relationship. People did it all the damn time.
I stared down at my glass of malt scotch, and I swear I could see my reflection in the amber liquid. The man I saw looking back at me was a fucking coward. I’d upset Blake and she’d turned off her phone, and I took that as her playing a game or rejecting me. Because apparently, I’m a narcissistic asshole who only thinks of himself. I’d been so quick to worry about losing a client that I’d somehow forgotten that she’d been attacked the night before. And really, any woman would have been angry if they walked in to find a beautiful woman grabbing their man’s dick. She had every right to be upset, and instead of being there for her, I was day drinking and contemplating whether or not I could break things off.
I tossed a couple twenties on the bar and pushed off my stool. It was time for me to man up and treat Blake with the respect she deserved.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BLAKE
“Love is a serious mental disease.”
- Plato
I swiped angrily at the tears slipping down my cheeks. Yes, CJ had been an ass back there, but he was only part of the problem.
Shortly after he’d left me that morning, all the shit fell apart. Meaning it wasn’t just my shit hitting the fan - it was a collection of multiple shits being flung at the same time. Gross enough visual for you? Yeah, well, that was my life. Shit everywhere. Everywhere you looked - shit.
The police called to inform me that Dan was out on bail and that my restraining order had gone through. I could thank CJ for having that expedited. Paid to have a boyfriend who knew people, apparently. When said boyfriend wasn’t being a giant jackhole, anyway.
Right after that call, Michelle sent a text. Want to know what it said?
Chelle: Charges got dropped. Greg is out. Just FYI.
Yeah. She sent me that through a fucking text. Like it was no big freaking deal that her evil ex had been let out of jail. The only reason I’d bypassed going straight to her and kicking her ass for behaving like nothing was wrong was because I’d wanted CJ to look into where both Dan and Greg were and maybe keep an eye on them. He hadn’t been answering his phone, so I had no choice but to drive there. Boy, did I regret that.
I knew he wasn’t screwing around on me. Clarissa was batshit crazy and CJ couldn’t stand her. Not for one second had I thought something was actually going on between them. Yet I still couldn’t keep from spouting off in typical Blake behavior. As soon as the smart ass comment left my mouth I wanted to take it back. Not because Clarissa didn’t deserve it, but because I knew she was an important client. But I’m human and seeing another woman with her hand on your man’s dick just invokes the jealous bitch inside of you.
If I really stopped to think about it, I wasn’t even mad at CJ. I deserved to be yelled at, and I was sure he was beating himself up with guilt over it as I drove to Michelle’s on-campus apartment. A good girlfriend would at least send him a text and let him know she wasn’t upset, but I had too much going on in my head to stop long enough and reassure him. No doubt he was still dealing with Clarissa anyway.
As soon as I pulled into a visitor parking space, I put all thoughts of CJ and sluts with fake boobs and grabby hands out of my head. My focus needed to be on my sister. She was either flipping the hell out and didn’t want to tell me, hence the text, or she was in a shitload of denial and needed to be brought back to reality.
“Not in the mood,” Michelle answered the second I buzzed her. Odd, since I didn’t warn her I was coming.
“You fucking psychic now? Let me in, or I’ll stand out here pressing this damn button over and over until you give in.”
She sighed through the speaker, but apparently took my threat seriously because a second later the door to the building buzzed and the lock released. The door to her apartment was wide open when I got to her floor, and when I walked in, she was holding a wine glass in one hand and a half empty bottle in the other. By the looks of her, she’d downed that first half of the bottle all by herself.
“Uh, did my invite to the party get lost in the mail?”
Chelle snorted, a most unladylike gesture that annoyed the crap out of her whenever I did it. Michelle had always been the girlie one of us. Never stuck up or shallow, but always prim and proper - unless she drank. Get a little alcohol in her, and the bad girl she worked so hard to keep repressed started to make an appearance.
“Sure. Let’s make my pity party a party of two. Less pathetic that way.”
She flopped down onto the couch, spilling a little of her glass onto the leg of her sweats. It was maybe the third time in all my life I’d seen her in sweatpants.
“Just how far gone are you?” I asked as I took slow and cautious steps towards her. Like she was a skittish animal. Or, based on the murderous glare she was throwing my way, maybe she was more feral than skittish.
“This is bottle number two, if that tells you anything.”
Shit. I was going to need backup.
But oh yeah. I had no friends.
Except…yes I did. It was time to stop thinking of CJ’s circle as only his. I’d grown close to everyone and it was high time I looked at them as my friends too.
I took out my phone and powered it on, wincing when I saw the twelve missed calls, seven texts and four voicemails from CJ, but I didn’t stop to read or listen to any of them. Our talk wouldn’t be a quick one, and I needed to be doing damage control for Michelle’s problems before I moved on to mine.
Me: Any chance I could bribe you guys to come to my sister’s place and help me out with some girl time?
In a matter of seconds, both Josi and Clara responded to the group text I’d sent them.
Josi: Send address.
Clara: On our way.
Not sure why it surprised me that they so quickly agreed to help and without asking for more information. They were good people, that was easy to see from the first time I’d met them. And less than fifteen minutes later, they showed up together with arms full of plastic bags. I didn’t even get a chance to play hostess. As soon as they were in the door, they took over, refilling Michelle’s glass and then pulling out three more and filling them to the brim.
Josi unloaded three cartons of ice cream into the freezer. “We weren’t sure what flavors you guys would like, so we got a few kinds so we’d have options,” she explained.
Clara held up three different bags of candy; gummy worms, peanut m&ms, and peanut butter cups. “Same with the candy.”
“And chips,” Josi interjected.
The bridge of my nose burned, tears that I refused to let fall pricking the backs of my eyes. Michelle, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well with holding back. She immediately started showering both sisters with hugs, thanking them over and over while stroking their hair and petting them like they were adorable puppies. Michelle was affectionate when sober, but with a little booze in her, she became uncomfortably touchy. I jumped in and peeled her off of them. They shot me grateful looks then bit back smiles when Michelle started snuggling me like I was a teddy bear.
Over the next few hours, the girls helped me try and distract Michelle with junk food and action movies. Chelle and I had never been the type that turned to sappy movies when we were sad - especially when the sadness was over a guy. Gunfire and blowing shit up was more rewarding than unrealistic love stories. When the end credits of Bad Boys rolled and Clara started to pull up Bad Boys II, I stood to gather our wine glasses. That’s when I realized that while we’d been trying to sober up Michelle, she’d been draining our glasses when we weren’t looking.
�
��You little shit.”
Michelle giggled at my scolding. Then promptly fell asleep and immediately started snoring. Josi laughed beside me.
“Should I still turn the movie on?” Clara asked.
I nodded. I couldn’t handle the quiet or any kind of real conversation right then. More than once during the first movie I’d had to excuse myself to the bathroom to try and get control of my emotions.
Months ago when I first saw Michelle laying in that hospital bed, her face swollen to the point where she was barely recognizable, my life shifted on its axis. Since then I hadn’t been able to breathe. Not completely. Not without pain and guilt and fear filling up so much of my lungs that there was little room left for oxygen. But I’d held back. I’d kept all of my emotions to myself, wanting to be strong for my sister. My best friend. Even when she begged me not to tell mom and dad, I didn’t tell her how torn I was. Sure, I gave her my opinion and attempted to guide her in the right direction, but she was fragile.
And let me tell you, Michelle had never been fragile a day in her life. People would mistake her quiet demeanor for shyness or weakness. I was the loud, brash, in-your-face sister who everyone assumed was tough as nails. They had it so wrong. Michelle, though two years younger than me, was my rock. My constant. My safety net. Something I’d taken for granted all my life without even knowing it.
So when she fell apart in my arms and pleaded with me to keep it a secret, I promised I would. Despite my better judgment, I gave her what she wanted. Because I was scared.
I was scared of losing her. Scared that she would lose the fight, the ever-present light inside of her, if I pushed her too hard. I wanted to kill that asshole, but more than that, I wanted to heal my sister. Or at the very least, be there to help her while she figured out how to heal herself. But what was I supposed to do to help when she acted like it was no BFD? The man who almost killed her was back out on the streets, and everyone knew the flimsy piece of paper that said he couldn’t come near her wouldn’t be enough if he wanted revenge. I still didn’t know why they’d even released him. Michelle was already too far gone to talk about it when I’d gotten there.