“Fuck, do I ever, man.” We both stand there grinning like pussy-whipped morons.
“We’re headin’ to Pulse soon. Interested in taggin’ along?”
“Fuck no.” I can only take so much of that prick mauling Payton without taking my gun out and putting a bullet in him.
“Your loss, bro. But I’m tellin’ you right now—Payton isn’t over you. If you don’t go, she’ll definitely go home with that asswipe. If you do go, you’ll get the opportunity to convince her otherwise. And maybe, just maybe, she might be goin’ home with you tonight,” he says, with a crooked grin. And my cock’s hard again at the thought of taking her home tonight.
“I’ll think about it,” I return. Then I walk out the door.
Ryder’s words eat at my brain, so here I am at Pulse waiting for them to arrive. I know Ryder’s got her back, but I feel like it’s my job to make sure no one messes with her. When I think of Payton, I get this tight pain in my chest. I’m fucking crazy about the girl, which makes me think back to my relationship with Julie. That girl was my everything, and I didn’t do what I had to do to protect her. History will not repeat itself. Nothing or no one’s getting near Payton. I’m gonna make sure of that. I can’t lose her, too.
I finally see them walk through the door. Ella and Ryder are hand-in-hand and Dag has his arm wrapped around Payton’s tiny waist. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to go over there and rip Dag’s arm out of his socket. The girls walk over to a table, while the guys get their drinks. By the looks of the tray Ryder’s carrying, Payton’s definitely doing her fair share of shooters tonight.
After about an hour into the alcohol flowing and music thumping, Ella and Ryder go to the dance floor. Ryder hates dancing, but he’ll do whatever his woman wants. Tonight she wants to dance. Payton and Fuckwad stay at the table, but barely speak to each other. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to be here with him.
I can see her sweet little ass moving in the chair. My girl’s itching to get up and dance. She grabs hold of Dag’s hand, and they head toward the dance floor. This intoxicated chick approaches me. “Wanna dance, handsome?” she drunkenly asks. I take her up on her offer because I need to keep a closer eye on Payton, and this is the only way to do it. The pretty brunette, whose name is Rhonda, clamps on to my arm as we head out into the sea of sweaty club goers.
As Rhonda grinds her hips against mine, I scan the crowd and spot them. I let out a growl when I see the asshole’s hands all over Payton’s body. Then his lips join in on the action. I’m about to go over there and throw her over my shoulder to carry her out of this place, but I notice him pull away and reach into his pants pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he presses a button and looks at the display. He frowns and leans in toward Payton saying something into her ear then leaves her on the dance floor alone.
This doesn’t stop her from having a good time. Hell no, my girl continues to dance by herself, shaking her sweet, sweet ass enticing anyone who’s interested. Everyone else can just fuck right off because no one else is having her but me. I need this girl so fucking badly.
“Gotta go, sweetheart,” I say to Rhonda. She pouts for a second, but turns around and quickly finds a new dance partner, easily forgetting about me. I walk over to my sexy blonde haired angel and wrap my arms around her warm body from behind. “Bella, you’re so much better than him, let me have you. I fucking need you,” I rasp out against her ear. She lets out a sexy-as-fuck gasp that I want to hear when she’s underneath me, and I’m deep inside of her. She pushes her ass against my groin and my cock screams for release. I want to take her, but not here. She’s going home with me tonight, one way or another.
“Jack.” Her moan goes straight to my cock. I flip her around and cup her beautiful face with my hands and capture her lush lips with my mouth. As my tongue darts inside her mouth, I get the taste of strawberries from her lip-gloss.
“Payton,” I mutter, against her lips in between kisses. My hands glide down her back, grabbing her ass and lifting her up against my body. Her long fucking legs wrap around my waist as she grinds her hot pussy against my erection. Fuck, this is heaven.
That’s when I hear, “What the fuck?” come from behind us. Then all hell breaks loose.
* * *
I’ve got one of the windows in my condo cracked open as I pull in a draw of my cigarette and exhale. Right now, it’s the only thing that’s calming me down. I quit after my undercover as Diesel, but I tend to smoke when I get stressed. Payton Clare stresses me the fuck out like nobody else. I’m going to have to knock it off because if my mother finds out I’m smoking again, the woman will probably take me over her knee, regardless of the fact that I’m thirty-five years old and haven’t lived home since I was nineteen. I can’t relax not knowing if Payton’s all right or not, and this cigarette is the only thing taking the edge off right now.
After the so-called fight with Dag, Ryder told me to back off, and he’d make sure Payton was taken care of, but I’m not so sure. She’s so goddamned stubborn sometimes, it’d be just like her to go home with him to fucking spite me. This is not how I imagined the end of the night. I had high hopes of having Payton in my bed this evening, but no such luck.
My work cell buzzes, so I answer it. I don’t expect to hear what I do.
“Why the fuck’s Payton with our supplier?” It’s Devon.
“Come again?” I ask, wanting him to repeat his question.
“We found out who our supplier is. His real name’s Diego Gael Sanchez, aka Dag. We’ve got surveillance of him with one Payton Ann Clare. Is she in on this shit?” he asks.
“She’s fucking clueless,” I answer, never doubting for a second that she wouldn’t be with this guy if she knew.
My personal cell starts ringing. I ignore it.
“You have a conflict of interest due to the hard-on you have for this girl. You might be willing to overlook any wrongdoing that she’s involved with,” he barks out.
“Fuck you, asshole! That’s uncalled for, and you fucking know it,” I rebut. My other phone starts buzzing this time. I pick it up and look at the incoming message from Ryder.
Call me. Payton needs u.
“We’ll fucking discuss this tomorrow,” I grit out, disconnecting and hitting speed dial.
“What the fuck, Ryder?” I ask, not giving him any time to greet me.
“Ella just got a call from Payton. She went home with that asshole, and he fuckin’ attacked her. Ella still has her on the line, tryin’ to keep her calm. She’s hidin’ behind a dumpster in an alley off of Fallon Circuit. I’m headin’ out, but you’re closer and can get there sooner. I’m goin’ to Dag’s.”
“Jesus! Fuck! I thought you had it covered, man!” I curse, disconnecting the line and running out to my car. I fucking knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have left her. If anything happens to her I’ll only have myself to blame.
In my haste to get to Payton, I break at least a dozen traffic laws and what would normally take me fifteen minutes to drive, takes me seven minutes. I bring my car to a screeching halt, putting it in park and jumping out.
“Payton?” I shout. Please, let this be the right alley.
“I’m here,” she whimpers, coming out from her hiding spot.
“Jesus fucking Christ! He did this. Dag did this to you? I am going to fucking choke the life out of that fucking prick. He’s so dead,” I say, my thumbs softly stroking her cheek where I can see a bruise forming.
She tries to reassure me that she’s okay, but I can see how scared she really is. I try to tell her that it’s not okay. That it’s never okay for a man to lay his hands on a woman to hurt her. My lips gently brush across her swollen cheek, and I make the decision to bring her home with me. I put my arm around her waist and pull her against my body, leading her toward my car.
“Come on Payton, you’re staying with me tonight.” Of course, she tries to tell me she’s not because Ryder’s coming to get her. I explain to her how Ryder called and asked me to g
et her and that he was going to look for Dag at his apartment. When I tell her this she panics.
Fuck that! Ryder can take care of himself. I need to get Payton out of here now. So I tell her to get in the car, and she actually fucking listens to me. Once inside the car, I try to adjust her top to cover her up, but the thing is shredded and practically falls apart in my hands. Her bra-covered tits are on display, and if I weren’t so fucking scared and pissed off, I’d be all over that.
I need to know what he did. Ryder told me she was attacked, but he didn’t go into detail.
“Payton, what the fuck happened?”
“Ryder didn’t tell you?” she asks me. I shake my head.
“No, what the fuck happened?” I demand again. She tells me what happened to her at Dag’s, but I can sense she’s keeping something from me. Just the little bit of info she tells me, pisses me off. Instead of driving toward Dag’s, I turn the car around because I know that if I see that fucking prick right now, I’ll end up in prison. No fucking joke.
When Payton asks me why we’re not going to Dag’s, I don’t answer her right away. So she asks me again with panic lacing her voice. I stop the vehicle and shift over on the seat to unbuckle her seatbelt. I’ve got to hold her in my arms because the thought of what could’ve happened to her is making my whole body tremble with pent up rage. I tell her straight up why we can’t go right now “We can’t fucking go there, Payton. I’ll fucking kill him if we do.”
“Oh Jack,” she sighs. “I’m okay. It’s over,” her shaky voice tries to comfort me, but it’s not enough.
“No, it’s not. No man hits a woman or forces her to do something they don’t want. I need to know what happened.” I need to know all of the details, even if it kills me. For whatever reasons, Payton refuses to talk to me about it. All she wants to do is check in with Ella. As she makes the call, I move back over to the driver’s side and take her with me, tucking her into my side. I put the car in drive and make my way back to my condo.
Chapter 8
Blindness
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to this expensive looking condominium in the richer part of town. My house isn’t bad, but it’s nothing like this place. I can only dream for something this nice. He must’ve moved because he certainly didn’t live here when I first met him. When I went home with him years ago, he lived in a small and modest one-bedroom apartment in a shady neighborhood. He’s really moved up in the world. Once inside the parking level, Jack gets out of the driver’s side of the vehicle, turns around, and twists my body to face him. Then he grips me by the hips and pulls me across the bench seat, so that I’m sitting on the edge.
“Come on, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“Jack, I told you I’m okay,” I say.
“Payton, you’ve been through a lot tonight and so have I. We both need some rest so we can talk in the morning,” Jack pleads.
“Okay,” I agree.
He walks me into the building. It’s just as beautiful, sleek, and modern inside as I suspected. The only thing that could use improvement is the crappy music currently playing in the elevator we’re in. I start to giggle.
“Beautiful, what’s so funny? I find nothing funny about tonight,” he tells me.
“This elevator plays crappy music. I thought in a modern building like this it would be something better than … than … this!” I laugh out loud. Maybe I’m going crazy because I don’t think I’d usually find this very funny. It could have something to do with the fact that I’m still feeling the effects of the alcohol I consumed this evening.
“I think I need to call a doctor,” he remarks, shaking his head with a grin.
“What?” I snap.
“You sure you’re not cracking up on me, baby?” he asks “I can see if they’ve got a room available in the next asylum.”
“Seriously? You’re cracking jokes? Jack De Luca’s cracking jokes!” He leans in and traps me in the corner of the elevator with his tight body.
“Yeah, babe, I am. And I’m glad I did because you’re smiling now, and I fucking love that smile,” he whispers against the corner of my mouth. The heat of his body and the words that he’s speaking in that husky, sexy tone is driving me insane with want. I want to push my fingers through his hair, rub my hands on his sexy rock hard chest, run my tongue along his neck and abdomen, and wrap my lips around ... DING!
The dinging of the elevator interrupts me, letting us know we have reached his floor. Jack turns around and takes my hand in his, leading me to his apartment door. My chest is thudding so hard that he can probably hear it. Nervousness is something that I don’t experience often because I usually don’t care, but this is Jack. Holy cocksucking motherfucker, I’m at Jack’s place. I get to see where he lives, how he lives—for real this time.
Opening the door to his condo, I can see it’s an open-plan studio apartment. One full wall of the room’s completely lined off with floor-to-ceiling windows. WOW. Looking over to the left, I see that it’s decked out with a sleek, modern, and manly kitchen. The cabinets are a dark cherry with black granite counter tops and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. What I wouldn’t give to have this place. I’ve imagined myself living in a place like this. It just screams my name.
On the other side of the room is where you can totally tell this is a bachelor’s apartment. You have your leather sectional with a matching leather recliner, chrome and glass coffee table, and then, of course, your widescreen television mounted on the wall with all the other electronic shit that goes with it. I could care less about any of that stuff. I don’t watch much television, other than the Twilight movies.
I’d much rather listen to music. Some people just like to listen to the melody of songs, but I listen to the story in the lyrics. Every song has its own story and some I can just lose myself in completely. I love turning on a song and getting this feeling that someone gets you, but when it’s over, you remember that it’s just a song, and someone in the world who has no clue who you are or that you exist wrote it and understands how you feel. That’s something that helps me along in life, knowing I’m not the only fucked up person in the world who has shit happen to them.
Next to the living room, there’s a small bathroom and a few other doors that look like closets. Where’s the bedroom? Turning around, I look back to the kitchen and notice a set of stairs to the side leading to a loft area. Walking over I start to climb them feeling Jack’s eyes on me, so I put a little extra sway into my hips. Ha-ha. Take that fucker. Up on the landing, I find myself in the master bedroom. Holy Fuck Me!
This is a man’s bedroom. Two walls consisting of floor-to-ceiling glass windows join together in the corner, giving an amazing view of downtown Del Mar on one side and the beach on the other. Coming off of one of the glass walls is a king size bed with a very low padded leather headboard. The bed is made up with a black comforter, gray sheets, and red accent pillows. Umm, it looks cozy, and I can imagine cuddling with Jack in that bed, amongst doing other things. Other than the bed, there’s no other furniture in the room. I feel his hot breath blow against my ear as he approaches me from behind.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“It’s amazing,” I say in a wistful voice.
“This room is what sold me. I bought it a few months ago. I knew it would be perfect,” he whispers.
“For what?” I ask.
“Come on, you need to take a shower and clean up, baby. Get that fucking bastard off you,” he says, ignoring my question.
“I don’t have anything to wear, Jack. I can wait until tomorrow when I go home.” I really do want to shower, but it can wait, I guess.
“I might have something that fits you. Check out my closet,” he says, pointing to one of two doors. I walk over to the door and pull it open. It’s a huge walk-in closet that’s bigger than my whole bedroom at home. I take a white button up shirt off of a hanger and walk toward the en-suite bathroom. It’s a crazy ass bathroom, decked out with a jetted whirlpool
tub big enough for two people and surrounded by a wall of windows. The shower’s next to it and is enclosed in glass and black and gray slate tiled walls. The black granite top vanity has a double sink with the glass bowls that are above the counter. I love this look—completely my style.
I lay down the shirt and turn the shower on, not looking at myself in the mirror. The water hits my skin, but it isn’t hot enough to erase the night, so I turn the faucet until it’s so hot the whole bathroom steams up. I start scrubbing every inch, over and over with soap, wishing the dirt would leave me and that I wasn’t tainted. Remembering everything about tonight and what Dag was going to do to me brings back memories of that night in high school. Fingers wrap around my throat, voices in my ear telling me to keep my mouth shut and how big of a whore I am and that no one will ever want me.
I start screaming, tears falling from my eyes, and there’s no way to stop the sobs that wretch from my body. Scrubbing and scrubbing again, I fall to the floor and cry for everything that I’ve lost and everything I’ll never have in my life. Suddenly, two arms wrap around me, making me scream again, and I start thrashing my body to try and get out of the grip.
“Payton, it’s me. Everything’s okay,” Jack whispers in my ear, rocking me back and forth in the water.
“I wish it was,” I whisper back.
“You need some rest.”
Pulling me out of the shower, he dries my body off and dresses me in the dress shirt. Then he takes off his wet clothing and wraps a towel around his godlike body. If I weren’t so consumed in my self-pity right now, I’d be wrapped around him instead of that fucking towel. He walks me to his bed and covers me with the comforter. He tells me that he has a few things to take care of before leaving the room, and I’m certain that those things concern Dag.
He walks down the stairs, and I can’t help but beat myself up for letting him see the weak and vulnerable side of me. I hide her very well, but I just can’t seem to do that where Jack’s concerned. After a while of beating my brain and wondering how I can be so stupid, I drift off to sleep.
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