by Nina Levine
Oh fuck. I thought only Silver Hell had seen that footage. My mouth formed an oh, but I quickly snapped it shut when he zeroed in on it. “It’s not what you thin—”
Anger filled his features. “For fuck’s sake, don’t give me that line. I deserve more than that from you.” He thumped his chest, his eyes wild. “I was the one who was there for you when Randall tossed you to the wolves. I was the one who picked up the pieces with you after he broke you. And I’m the one who has stuck by your side all this time. I deserve more than your lies.”
I knew I should have avoided this conversation. It had gone from bad to epic proportions of fucked in less than a minute. I couldn’t tell Duvall the truth, but I had to give him something because otherwise he would go after Nitro for something he didn’t do. My mind raced with an answer, and for once, it failed. This was usually one of my strengths, stringing a line of bullshit together to get people out of shit, but not that day. Instead I stood in front of my oldest friend—the one who had stuck by me even though he never knew the truth of why I committed the sins I did—and stared at him in silence while my heart cracked a little more, if that was even possible.
I was tired of the lies.
Exhausted by the thought of hiding parts of my life for a second longer.
I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I wanted the life I should have had, not this one.
When I didn’t say anything, Duvall grabbed my bicep. “He beat you, Tatum! Black and blue. How can you stand here and deny that when it was clear as day to see on that footage? Fuck, I can’t even wrap my head around you dating him after that.”
I didn’t attempt to wriggle out of his hold. I just wanted this to all go away. But I couldn’t figure out what excuse to give him to make him leave it be.
Neither of us heard men approaching. We were both so engrossed in our conversation. It wasn’t until King’s voice cut through the air that we turned to see him watching Duvall with a murderous gaze.
“Let her go or you’ll have me to deal with.” He didn’t raise his voice but he spoke in a low, threatening tone that couldn’t be mistaken. I had no doubt that King would hurt Duvall if he didn’t do as ordered. The thing I couldn’t work out, though, was why King was taking my back.
Duvall dropped my arm and stepped back. He opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his attention behind King and suddenly he stalked towards whatever it was.
And then he began issuing his own threats. “You fucking asshole! I’m going to make you pay for what you did to her!”
I turned just in time to see Duvall throw a punch and to see Nitro duck to avoid it before landing his fist on Duvall’s face. He knocked Duvall backwards and raised his fist as if he was about to punch him again, but then thought better of it and dropped his arm.
King yanked Duvall away from Nitro and roared, “Enough!” as Duvall attempted to get another punch in.
Nitro’s eyes locked onto mine and I felt the familiar pull to him. The need he stirred in me was too great to ignore. It had been two weeks since he’d walked out of my house and never came back. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in that time. And I hadn’t gone looking for him because he’d made it clear what he wanted.
I couldn’t deal with any of them in that moment. I turned and walked away, picking up my pace as I moved so as to avoid any of them stopping me. But Nitro was faster than me, and a moment later, his hand curled around my arm. “Tatum, stop,” he commanded.
I closed my eyes and held my breath for a beat. On an exhale, I turned to face him. “What do you want, Nitro? I’ve gotta get to work.”
It was a lie and he knew it. Ignoring what I said, he asked, “You good?”
Emotions I never knew existed exploded out of me in a violent burst. “I’m sick of you asking me that goddam question! Do you even care if I’m good?” I threw my words at him as if they were fire and would burn him. I had no clue where my anger had come from or why I was directing it at him, but I couldn’t stop myself.
His nostrils flared and his eyes mirrored the anger I felt. He, however, managed to keep his in check. “I told you I don’t play games and I don’t do shit for any reason but how it appears, so when I ask you if you’re good, I mean it.”
I searched his eyes and knew right down to my bones that he meant every word he said. Nitro might have been many things but dishonest was not one of them. “I’m good.”
His gaze dropped to my arm where Duvall had held me. “What’s his game?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did he come at me like that?”
“He’s seen the surveillance of us leaving the casino.”
His mind worked quickly, putting it together. “So he thinks I did that to you.” And then he surprised me. “You seeing him now?”
“What? No. Why?” His question threw me, completely bewildering me.
“Vegas, a man doesn’t get that worked up unless the woman means something to him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and it’s pretty fucking clear he wants you. I need to know what I’m dealing with here. So, are you seeing him?”
My mind was still trying to unscramble itself. “No, I’m not seeing him.”
He nodded. “Okay.” He took a step back as if he was going to leave, but then he stopped and ran his eyes over my body. Slowly. As if he was committing it to memory. “I’ll look into this and let you know what I find. As far as I knew, that surveillance had been destroyed.”
And then he headed into the club with King, leaving me standing there all kinds of confused. Seeing him, speaking to him, hell, just being in his presence, made me realise how much I’d missed him. I hadn’t let a man into my life on a regular basis like I had with Nitro since my husband left me nearly two years ago. Sleeping together, spending nights together… we might not have shared anything from our lives with each other, but we’d shared our bodies in ways that meant something to me.
Shit.
I wanted him again.
My skin craved his touch.
My mind craved the escape his caress allowed.
And as much as I struggled admitting it, my soul craved the safety of his embrace.
Trouble was, he didn’t seem interested in any of that. I’d only ever been someone he had to watch over for his club. And I was still that person now that Duvall had involved himself.
“Are you still dating him?”
I spun around to find Duvall staring at me, wild-eyed. “No. We’re done.” He didn’t need to know that Nitro and I were never dating.
“Good.”
He left me then. I didn’t know where this would all end up. I should have cared. I should have chased after him to set him straight and convince him to drop it. But all I cared about was coping with the emptiness slaying me. The problem with that was I had no fucking clue how to make it go away and I knew that coping was a crock of shit. I could numb the pain and try to hide from it, but I could never fucking cope with it.
27
Nitro
“It Ain’t Easy” by Blake Shelton
I rested my arms on the counter of the bar, scanning the club patrons. Not looking for anyone or anything in particular, just absently people watching. Eyeing a leggy blonde, my mind immediately went to Tatum. Hell, my mind didn’t need a shove to go there. It lived there.
It had been three days since I’d run into her outside Billy’s club. Three days. Not that I was counting. Fuck, who the hell was I kidding? The days added to the tally my mind kept. The tally screaming at me that the reason my dick was hard with a desperate need that no other woman could fill was because it had been nearly three weeks since I’d been with Tatum.
“Where the fuck are you, man?” Devil asked, drawing my attention back to him. When I stared blankly at him, he added, “You might be sitting on that stool next to me but you aren’t here. You haven’t been for weeks.”
I took a swig of my rum. I’d even started drinking the same fucking drink as she did. “I’ve got shit going on.”
He threw back some of his beer, a look of “don’t give me that shit” on his face. “Brother, I know the look of a man in the middle of a pussy affair and you’re wearing that look right now. She something special or just a root you can’t get out of your head?”
My jaw clenched. I didn’t like him referring to Tatum as a root. Trouble was I had no fucking clue what she was to me anymore. “You ever had a woman fuck with your mind, Devil?”
He chuckled. “Dude, they all do that.”
“Not like this.”
His smile morphed into a serious expression. “Fuck, you’ve never gone there with a chick before?”
“Nope. Don’t need another person to take care of in my life.”
“So, what, you just fuck ‘em and leave?”
I drank some more rum. “They always know the score.” I shrugged. “Some of them stick around for a bit.”
“So this one’s turned into something more?”
I leant my head back before stretching my neck side-to-side. Fuck, my shoulders were tight. Exhaling hard, I said, “I don’t know what the fuck she’s turned into. All I know is that I can’t get her out of my damn head. And that I’m sitting here in a fucking bar spilling my shit to you in ways I never thought I ever would.” Fuck.
He slapped me on the back and grinned at me. “Hate to break it to you, Nitro, but she’s turned into something more. Looks like you’ve found someone else to take care of in your life after all.” He paused for a beat. “My advice to you, brother, is to accept your fate for what it is and then lay the fuck down and let that pussy whip you. No use fighting love.”
As I sat processing his words, a voice I hadn’t heard in years cut through the noise of the club, causing ice to slither down my spine. “Rhys.”
My head snapped up to find Joseph standing next to us, watching me with eyes I’d hoped to fuck never to see again in my lifetime. I pushed up off the stool and stood, invading his personal space. Gripping his shirt, I snarled, “What the fuck are you doing in Sydney?”
He didn’t flinch. “Came to see you, my boy.”
I clenched the material of his shirt before letting it go, shoving him away at the same time. “Yeah, well there’s nothing to see here, so I suggest you crawl back to where you came from.”
He watched me for a moment before nodding and saying, “Good.”
I glared at him. “Good?”
The smile that danced across his lips pissed me the hell off. “Yes, good. I can do a lot with that anger of yours.”
Oh no, he didn’t. No, he fucking didn’t. “The days of you doing anything with me are long fucking over, Joseph.” Fuck, he always did have a way of pushing my buttons.
“We can do this a few different ways, Rhys. One of them entails you choosing to come back to me. The other—”
Fury punched through me. That he’d ever think I’d go back to him. I shoved my face in his. “You had your shot at me and you more than fucked it up. I never want to see you again. And if I do, I promise you it will be the last fucking time.” I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed him away from me. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
He contemplated that and then did the smartest thing he’d ever done—he left.
“Fuck!” I yelled as I watched him go.
Fucking hell.
“Who was that?” Devil asked.
Memories ripped my heart right open, bleeding the darkest, angriest blood I’d oozed in years.
I gritted my teeth and clenched and unclenched my fists over and over as my body filled with rage. Meeting Devil’s eyes, I said, “My uncle.”
* * *
Four hours later, I was three sheets to the wind, walking the cement path to Tatum’s front door. My head was a messed-up shit fight and I couldn’t, no matter how much I tried, even begin to pick through my thoughts. I tried to numb the choking pain but failed. The memories of what Joseph had done to our family played in my mind like a fucking movie and no alcohol could rid me of those. I’d spent nineteen years trying to forget. I thought I’d worked them out of me. But five minutes in his goddam presence and I was right back there living it all over again.
Motherfucker.
I reached the door and came to an abrupt stop. What the fuck made me think this was a good idea? My mind was already fucked up with Tatum. I didn’t need to add to that.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I stood there for another minute going back and forth with myself before I made the final decision that this really was a bad idea.
Exiting her property, I told myself Devil was wrong—Tatum hadn’t become someone special to me. Good sex was just that. And I could find that anywhere.
28
Tatum
“(Baby I’ve Got You) On My Mind” by Powderfinger
“Tell me how he makes you feel when you’re together.”
I looked at my therapist and contemplated her question. We’d been working together for weeks now and I’d finally brought Nitro up with her. I’d resisted doing that but after seeing him last week, I’d cracked. I was fairly sure I was spiralling into a chaotic mess of despair and defeat. Rock bottom would be one way to describe it. So, in my hopelessness, I decided to lay everything on the table with her. I decided to finally give her every piece of my soul and prayed that we could fix me.
“I hated him at first. Hated that he saved me when all I wanted was to be dead. Dead with Christopher. And he was so mean that I hated him even more. But then he saved me again and started showing me another side of him.” I wrapped my arms around my body and stared at her, remembering the night I slept next to him the first time. “He makes me feel safe. Which sounds ludicrous even to me, but it’s the truth.”
“Tatum, we can’t make ourselves feel something that’s not there, just like we can’t alter the way people make us feel. It’s not ludicrous to say that he makes you feel safe. But what you have to do now is decide what you want to do with that feeling. Do you want to spend more time with him? Get to know him better?”
“I don’t know.”
She watched me closely. The way she saw me, really saw me, made me feel uncomfortable. I wanted to turn away from her gaze. I didn’t want her to see me. But I knew I had to let her. If I had any hope of fixing myself, I had to allow her to help me.
“I think you do know,” she said simply, guiding me. She never told me what to do. That didn’t seem to be how she worked. I’d never spent time with a therapist before so I had no idea how they worked, but I’d expected more help making decisions.
I unwrapped my arms from around my body and curled my legs under me on the couch. God, why was this shit so hard? Blowing out a long breath, I said, “I want to sleep with him. But I don’t know if I want more than that. And besides, he doesn’t want more. Hell, he doesn’t even want sex with me.”
“Tell me, why do you have to know everything all at once? Do you think decisions through all the way from beginning to resolution for everything you do in your life?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s the way I’m wired. I can’t help it.”
She leant forward. “You’re a survivor, Tatum. You’re strong and capable. You can help anything you want in your life.”
Fuck, she was pissing me off today. “Maybe I don’t want to fucking help it. I like the way I live my life.”
“If you like the way you live your life, you wouldn’t be here. I challenge you to think some more about that this week. Consider the possibilities of not thinking everything through and discarding ideas because you think you know how it will end.”
I shoved my fingers through my hair, feeling all kinds of agitated. My body was a bundle of nervous, angry energy and I didn’t even know why. In desperation, I blurted out the thought I hadn’t been able to let go of for weeks. “Why am I not getting better? I’ve been coming here for weeks and I feel worse than I did at the beginning. I just want to be fixed and it’s not happening!”
She watched me for a mome
nt. Again. Always silently watching. And then—“We’ve been digging deep. You’ve been dredging up memories, hurts, and deeply rooted pain, Tatum. We’re challenging everything you’ve ever thought, and examining if your thought patterns are useful, whether they serve you or hurt you. This is a process and unfortunately you can’t escape it. What you do need to do is trust it. Move through it rather than against it. And know that slowly it will lead you out of all this pain and uncertainty you’re feeling. The other thing? Don’t try to fight your feelings as they come up. After years of avoiding them, you have to learn to live with them.”
I left the session just as confused as when I’d entered it. But for the first time, I considered the possibility that maybe it was okay to be confused. Maybe she was right and I didn’t need all the answers right away.
* * *
“You’re watching TV?” Monroe’s shock vibrated through the phone that night when I told her I was going to watch Game of Thrones.
I laughed as I held the phone to my ear while making myself a Milo at the kitchen counter. “Yeah, and it starts in fifteen minutes so I have to get off the phone soon.”
“You never watch television. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“I’ve decided to try new things.”
She remained silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had softened. “I love that, babe.”
I inhaled deeply, letting the love I heard from her settle into my bones. “I love you, Monroe. I don’t tell you that often enough.”
“Oh, geez, you really are trying new things, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “That was where you were supposed to tell me that you love me, too.”
“Pffft, I tell you that all the time.” She spoke the truth. Monroe’s side of the family inherited the touchy-feely genes while mine didn’t.
“Yeah, well you can tell me again. I won’t hold it against you.”