by Kayla Oliver
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll explain things then, but I need you to come as friends, not fucking cops and shit.” That’s all Addie needs. A fucking gang of motherfuckers intimidating her. She needs friends. A support system. Not more fear.
“Take care of yourself, brother,” Dakin says, and we hang up.
I drive toward Arlo’s house, a sense that it’ll all be okay settling over my senses. I trust Dakin, even though he’s gone soft. I focus and pull everything I am into this trip and what I’m about to do.
This son of a bitch Arlo is going to get a pavement facial for what he did to Addie. When I’m done with him, his face won’t draw the ladies in anymore.
He’s never going to hurt another woman again. I’m going to make sure of that. And I’ll be watching even when I’m two states away.
Chapter Thirteen
Addie
I peek out the door. The guy is still there. I’d got a glimpse of him when I’d peeked out feeling like someone was out there. The hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end, and Cliff told me to always listen to that feeling.
“Your body recognizes danger,” he’d growled softly in my ear after he’d surprised me and caught me in a headlock. “Learn to respect that sensation.”
I’d told him that my gut told me he was okay, and he’d reaffirmed he’s dangerous.
It occurs to me now I still know nothing about him. I guess I could have snooped around his place and possibly learned things, but I’d rather wait and let him come to me with who he is.
Though he’s still stubbornly refusing to open up to me.
And no matter how hard I try to get close to him, to get him to work his magic on me sexually again, he’s been steadfast. I want him so much it’s frustrating. And having him startle me, spar with me, put me in holds that leave me vulnerable and not even take advantage of them is starting to get on my nerves.
Last night, I’d kissed him.
And I worry that I drove him away because of it.
But I’m starting to feel desperate to feel his lips on me again, to feel his huge hands on my body, to feel him inside me. I want him to make love to me so bad it aches in my core. Though I’m not sure Cliff makes love. Everything he does is rough around the edges. He’s intense in every way.
I peek out, catching a glimpse of the guy as he stands and scans the place. His face is vaguely familiar. He’s got startling ice-blue eyes and jet-black hair that’s shot blue under the lights.
He’s terrifying. His features are all angles, terrifying and sharp. He looks like the guys back in LA. Model good-looking, impossibly suave, and likely a total asshole.
His cold eyes touch on the door, and I stumble back away from the peephole and trip over the ottoman I’d moved out of the living room to stand on to reach a book.
My head hits the ground, and the world fuzzes out.
***
I wake, blinking up at the ceiling. And realize I’m not alone. The guy from outside is kneeling beside me. I bolt upright and realize I’m on the couch.
“Shhh,” the guy says, and I lash out. My fist smashes into his face, and I’m on my feet running for the bedroom and the gun I’d left on my nightstand table.
I hear him right behind me, and my heart slams in my throat in time with my footfalls. The gun feels cool in my hands as I bring it around and aim at the intruder’s chest.
His hands go up. “I’m Cliff’s friend,” he says, his eyes on my face.
I hesitate, my finger a breath away from the trigger.
“I’ll go,” he says, and I click off the safety. If he goes, my secret goes with him. He hears the tiny sound and freezes.
“You want me to stay?” he asks, and I nod.
“Hands behind your head,” I say.
He does as I say, and I move in to see if he’s armed the way Cliff taught me. “He told me if I come in, I’m dead.”
It rings true. That’s something Cliff would have warned someone if he told them something about me at all. Because he told me to kill anyone who came after me here.
Cliff told someone I’m here. He betrayed me.
The guy isn’t armed. “On your knees,” I say, and he drops, but there’s a second of hesitation.
I take a seat across the room, gun ready.
“I’m Dakin,” he says. “I’ve known Cliff since he was a kid. We’ve been friends for forever.”
I say nothing, but I’m listening.
“He’s a good guy. Doesn’t talk much.” He lets out a tense laugh. His head turns to the side like he’s trying to see where I am behind him. “So, how did you meet him?” he asks, and I don’t answer. I’m not giving him any ammo.
He sighs. “You’re both big talkers, huh?”
I’m not saying a damn thing.
A knock at the door startles me, and I bolt to my feet. “Who did you call?” I demand, pressing the gun to the back of Dakin’s head. For a moment I wonder if I could actually do it—pull the trigger and end a man’s life.
Cliff told me hesitation equals death. But something in me whispers a reminder that death is forever.
“Let me go find out.” He’s calm.
“Don’t betray me, or I’ll kill you both.” My threat has him nodding. He rises to his feet and walks out to the living room. I watch him closely, waiting for any sign of betrayal.
He peeks out the peephole and opens the door, leaning on the doorframe in a way that blocks the person from entering. “Hey, Zac. Cliff isn’t here. Go home.”
“Why the fuck are you here?” The voice on the other side is cold, angry.
And Dakin is just as furious just as fast. “He’s your fucking friend. Can you trust him for two goddamned seconds?”
Silence.
“Can you trust me, then?” Dakin asks.
The other guy seems to finally get it. “Fine. When will he be back?” the other guy asks, and I study Dakin for any clues he’s betraying me. Everything seems normal, and I relax just a little. I hear Cliff’s warning in my ear.
Don’t let your guard down.
“Later tonight.” Dakin sounds bored.
“I’ll be back,” the other guy says, and I breathe a sigh of relief as Dakin closes the door. With quick steps, I walk over to lock it.
Too late, I realize it’s swinging open. It slams into me, knocking me to the floor. The gun clatters and slides across the hardwood floors out of my reach.
The guy at the door leaps on me, and I fight him as Dakin grabs the gun.
“Zac!” Dakin shouts, but I see the light of recognition in the guy’s eyes as he holds my wrists down on either side of my head, his weight pinning me down. His eyes widen and he studies my face, my hair, then my eyes.
“You’re Madeline Bounder.” He’s sure, and my heart sinks to my belly. “You’re under arrest for assault. Dakin, grab her hands.” He looks up at his friend as I struggle to free myself, tears flowing down my cheeks.
But Dakin doesn’t come. “Cliff had her here. At least wait to see what he has to say, first. He promised he’d explain everything tonight when he got back.”
The words are all it takes for me to go limp. He didn’t just betray me; he was going to turn me in.
Zac seems to feel it. He rolls me over and cuffs my hands behind my back. “You’re fighting the wrong side of this battle,” he says to Dakin, who refuses to look at me as Zac hauls me to my feet.
I feel utterly defeated as I stand there between the guys glaring daggers at one another.
Chapter Fourteen
Cliff
Everything feels wrong as I head up to my floor. My fists are torn and bloody, but Arlo looks worse. The hammering pain in my hands is overshadowed by that tickling sensation that nags at me.
Something is wrong.
The elevator stops at my floor, and I head to my door, gun drawn and at the ready. The door is open, and I hear voices.
“Give him a fucking chance.” I recognize that voice; that’s Dakin. What the fuck is he doing he
re? And did he hurt Addie?
Everything in me wants to burst in. But the smart side of me tells me to wait, gather information. Until I hear a soft whimper that could only be Addie.
With a roar of pure fury, I burst in and body slam smash into Zac. Addie is on her feet, her hands cuffed behind her back, her head hanging in defeat.
Zac hits the ground and slides as Dakin takes a step back. He lifts his hands in a sign of surrender.
Dakin is quick to speak. “I tried to keep him out.”
I walk over and kneel next to Zac and grab his cuff key. Next, I’m unlocking her wrists and turning her to face me. She refuses to meet my gaze.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Zac asks, slowly rising to his feet.
“Addie,” I say softly, taking her chin in my fingers. She pulls away and refuses to look at me.
Fuck.
“Your hands are bleeding,” Dakin says to me before walking over and closing the front door. I hear the snick of the dead bolt, but all of me is focused on Addie.
Like I give a fuck about my hands while such bigger things are broken. “I shouldn’t have left,” I say softly for her ears only.
Still, she stares at the floor. All the fight is gone from her shoulders. “What did you do to her?” I ask Zac, who’s finally on his feet.
“Told her she’s under arrest. Cuffed her.” He’s cold, and I sense our friendship is officially over. Good fucking riddance.
“Guys, let’s sit down and talk like men instead of raging like beasts,” Dakin says. “And ladies,” he adds, but there’s not even a flicker of recognition from Addie. She’s totally shut down and unresponsive. It’s fucking scaring me.
“I’ll start,” Dakin says. “I came over and sat outside to keep this idiot”—he punches Zac’s shoulder—“from doing something stupid.”
I listen to him while focusing on Addie. Taking her shoulders, I guide her to the couch and have her sit. Like a rag doll, she merely does as I push her to.
Dakin continues talking. “Clearly I failed. Anyway, I heard a thud inside and a short, sharp sound like a scream.”
I look down at Addie, worried.
“I went in and she’d fallen and hit her head. So I put her on the couch. She woke up and ran. And we talked.”
I look at Dakin, knowing something isn’t quite right. Addie jolts a tiny bit, furthering my belief that what he says isn’t exactly true. He’s protecting her. He’s trusting me.
“And while we were talking, Zac showed up and I tried to tell him to fuck off. Didn’t work.” Dakin shakes his head.
“Cute story,” Zac says coldly. “Doesn’t explain why she had a gun.”
Her gun. Fuck.
“She was scared of people. I assume she had a good reason to be. She must have grabbed it when I answered the door.” Dakin is daring Zac to call him a liar with his totally plausible explanation.
“So, Cliff, we’re waiting.” Dakin turns to me, his icy eyes warning me this better be good since his ass is on the line.
“Her ex doxed her and posted naked pictures of her online. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long for domestic abuse, assault, breaking and entering, stalking, and rape. I doubt she assaulted him.” I glare pointedly at Zac. “Which is why she’s here, not in your station.”
He looks away, furious.
I continue. “I’ve got proof he was frothing people up, telling them she had rape fantasies, that anyone who saw her should rape her since it’s the only way she can get off.”
I feel her stiffen and begin to shake. She didn’t know. I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t wanted to tell her in case she didn’t.
I turn to Zac once more. “I’ll gladly turn my evidence over. However, if it gets out that she’s here, you’re putting her life in danger.”
Silence.
Dakin lets out a low whistle and walks over to kneel before Addie. “I’m sorry. Please know you’re safe to call on me if you ever need help.” I sense something else behind his words, and it raises my hackles.
“Why don’t you get home to Camille,” I say, bristling.
Dakin looks at me, his eyes missing nothing. And I know I’m made. “I will. Call me later, Cliff.”
He hesitates before talking to Addie once more. “Your secret is safe with me.” With that said, he turns and leaves.
Zac rises to his feet, and I stand. We stare each other down, and I wait.
“I won’t say anything.” He still sounds furious, and I nod.
“Appreciated.”
But he’s not done. “Next time you fucking do something stupid like this, call me.”
I nod, and he turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. With them gone, I rush over to Addie and drop to my knees before her. Shoving her hair out of her face, I cradle her cheeks in my hands.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, feeling around the back of her head.
She finally looks at me, her eyes filled with tears. Her pupils spasm just a bit and tell me she’s not concussed. But there’s something wrong, clearly.
Her brows meet over a wrinkle. The expression is all sorrow, and her voice tears at the very fiber of my being.
“You told them about me.” It’s an accusation.
I nod. “I’m sorry. I had to. Zac was going to just come here. You’d have killed him.”
“I almost killed Dakin,” she whispers, her voice broken, and my chest aches for the decisions she’d almost had to make. “Why did he protect me?”
“Because he trusts me. He’ll do anything to protect you now.” He’s a good fucking friend, and I’ve been a shitty friend to him. He’s a better friend than I deserve.
“How can I ever trust you again?” she whispers, twin tears slipping down her cheeks. I wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs, but she pulls back out of my grasp.
And I know what I have to do. As much as it hurts, I need to leverage this wedge to put distance between us. My voice is harsher than usual. “I told you I’m not a good guy.”
“You told me I was safe with you,” she says, anger coloring the words.
“You are.” I wasn’t here. “I shouldn’t have left.”
She’s so angry she’s shaking. “I’m leaving.”
I grab her wrist, and she fights back. But I double my hold and wrestle her to the couch. “I’ll fucking tie you down if I have to,” I say. Didn’t she hear me? She knows there are people waiting to destroy her the second she’s spotted. I’m not going to have that on my conscience.
I can live with her hating me. Hell, that’s better than her falling for me.
Chapter Fifteen
Addie
I’m pressed facedown into the couch, and even as angry and betrayed as I feel, my body is a traitor. It’s reacting to him like it would like nothing more than for him to free himself and plunge deeply within me.
He told people about me!
People he trusted.
He said I was safe!
He wasn’t here to protect me.
“I’m not going to fight,” I say finally, and he hauls me to my feet.
He watches me closely as he picks up my gun and empties the clip. There’s caution in his every motion as he pops the one in the chamber out and pockets the rounds.
“Come on,” he says, motioning me to his room. He leaves the pistol on the TV stand and waits for me to go before marching toward our bedrooms.
I break off to go to mine, but he grabs my arm. “My room,” he growls, and my heart beats double time.
What exactly does he have in mind?
“You don’t trust me?” I ask, assuming he’s worried I’m going to bolt. Rightly worried. I don’t want to be here with someone who’s playing fast and loose with my secret. I stand a better chance on my own.
He says nothing, and I walk into his room.
Fine. He wants to keep me under his thumb, so be it. After all, he has to sleep sometime. And when he does, I’ll be gone.
“Bed,” he growls, and I finally see how tired he
is. His knuckles are torn and bloodied. I remember Dakin making a passing comment about it.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He’s terse, but I’m worried about that torn skin. I go to leave the room, but he grabs my wrist.
Spinning to face him, I look him in the eyes. “I’m just going to get the first-aid kit from the bathroom.”
He studies me, and then his grip loosens.
I leave and retrieve the kit. With it in hand, I walk back into the bedroom.
He’s sitting on the bed, his shirt off. I gasp at the power in his frame. What I’d known was all muscle is much harder than I expected. Every muscle is well-defined, taut, and strong.
Trying to rein in the sudden burst of heat I feel in my core, I sit next to him and take his hand in mine to look at the bruised and bloody knuckles. Tatters of flesh cling to his bones, and the whole mess looks like he tried to stem the bleeding with Kleenex. Little bits of tissue pulp are keeping some of the bleeding down, but that’s a recipe for infection.
I turn and open the kit, taking out several antiseptic wipes and ripping them open. Wiping his knuckles clean, they begin to bleed a bit more freely as I wipe away the tissue gunk.
He stays silent as I tend to his hands. Once they’re neatly bandaged, I take the kit back into the bathroom without further resistance from him.
This feels… weird. My heart is slamming. My body is yearning for him, wanting to be closer to him. But I’m mad at him. He gave me up.
When I’m back in his room, I strip off my shirt, then my bra. Pulling the shirt back on, I sigh in relief at the lack of confines. I’ve slipped into wearing sports bras that squish me down and make my breasts look much smaller.
It’s nice to breathe easily again.
Stripping my pants off, I leave my panties in place. I can sleep in them. Picking my clothes up, I fold them neatly and place them on the bedside table and stand before his bed.
This is not the way I thought I’d wind up here. And of course, now that I don’t want to sleep with him, I’m going to have to. Life is a fucking joke.