Travis kisses my back, the softness of his lips contrasting with the roughness of his beard.
“I don’t want you to stay at the hotel tonight,” he tells me.
“I’ll change rooms,” I say. “It’ll be okay.”
“Negative. You’re coming home with me. And tomorrow we’re gonna go talk to my vice-prez.”
“What?” I look back at him, trying to read his face.
“You need to let go of this Natalia shit, Brooke. Our club doesn’t have anything to do with it. And the Lords have got a world of other problems to deal with right now. We don’t have the fuckin’ patience for an FBI witch hunt. It’s a distraction for both of us. And neither of us needs it right now.”
“But…”
“Don’t argue,” he cuts me off. Travis stands up from the bed and reaches for his jeans. “Just get your bag and come on.”
I pack light, and I tend to live out of my suitcase when I travel, so it doesn’t take me long to grab my stuff.
“I’m not riding on the back of your bike with this,” I tell him when I’m ready, pointing at my bag.
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Follow behind me in your car.”
I can see him keeping an eye on my vehicle in his side mirror the whole way there. It should bug me that he’s being so overprotective, but I have to admit it actually feels kind of good.
We pull up to an up-down duplex on a quiet street on the north side of town. Travis parks his bike, then comes to the car and grabs my bag, which he carries up the walk for me. He puts a key in the lock of one of the two front doors and nods me through to go up the stairs to the second floor.
“Who lives downstairs?” I ask as I climb.
“Landlord,” he grunts. “He likes me because I’m not home much. And because I know how to fix his piece of shit car.”
Upstairs, I push the door open into a sparsely decorated apartment with sloped ceilings. Travis carries my bag through a short hallway and into a largish bedroom.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he says pointing. “You need anything, just ask.”
For a second, I think he’s gonna have me sleep in here while he sleeps on the couch or something crazy like that. But then he pulls me into his arms.
“How you feelin’?” he asks. “That bump on your head any better?”
“To tell you the truth, I forgot all about it,” I admit, reaching up to touch my cheekbone. “How does it look?”
“Like hell,” Travis says with a grin. “But it’ll heal.”
I try and fail to stifle a yawn. “I guess this day has taken a lot out of me,” I confess. Travis shoots me a suggestive leer. “Oh, stop it,” I laugh, play-swatting at him.
He snorts. “Come on into the kitchen. I’m gonna give you a shot of bourbon to help you sleep. And then we’re going to bed. I’m beat, too.”
I’m too tired to argue with him, so I let him dose me with the bourbon and then climb into his king-size bed next to him. Travis pulls me close to him.
Within minutes, I’m fast asleep.
23
Beast
If I was fucking up before by bringing Brooke to the club, I’m fucking up even more by bringing her to my place.
But I can’t do otherwise. I wasn’t about to leave her at the hotel.
I’m too keyed up to sleep after everything that’s happened tonight. Brooke’s out like a light, though. I sit in the dark and think instead. And find myself watching her as she sleeps.
I still remember how fucking angry I was when she left Tanner Springs. And when she literally ran into me at the diner that day, the fury that I thought had disappeared over the years came roaring right back. It was like the wound had been ripped back open, the scar tissue tearing clean through to the flesh underneath.
Now? I don’t know what the fuck I think.
In a way, she’s the last person I should even be giving the time of day. A fucking federal agent, for Christ’s sake. Angel should kick my ass for even talking to her, much less bringing her around the club.
But I know Brooke. I know who she is, deep down. And the shit she’s investigating is legit. Whoever these fuckers are, they deserve to rot in prison. I want her to get them. I want her to succeed.
And I want to make sure she doesn’t get killed doing it.
I snort softly as I look down at her. I know if I said that out loud, she’d be pissed. She’d tell me she can take care of her damn self, thank you very much. Which I’m sure she can. You don’t get into the FBI by bein’ a cream puff.
But old habits die hard. And there was a time when I wanted to protect Brooke from everything bad in the world. I thought I could do it, too. And I thought she wanted me to.
Turned out, I was wrong. She didn’t need me. Not at all. And I guess that was what hurt most of all.
I remember when I heard through the grapevine that Brooke’s mom had died. We didn’t really know each other at that point, but I’d watch her sometimes in the halls when she didn’t think I was looking. I was getting laid pretty regularly at that point, so I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to the shy-looking girl with the wild blond hair and the nineties grunge style. But I definitely noticed her.
I didn’t know she didn’t have a dad when I heard her mom had passed away unexpectedly. I didn’t really know anything about her situation.
Then one day after school, I came out of the exit by the parking lot and saw her sitting there, by herself. Looking like she was waiting for someone to pick her up but they hadn’t shown.
Before I even knew I was gonna do it, I asked her if she wanted a ride. She gave me a look I couldn’t quite read, and I thought she was going to turn me down. But then — just as I was gonna turn away — she shrugged and said yes. I still remember how she looked as she picked up her backpack and fell into pace beside me.
She didn’t say much for the first couple of minutes. But then I made some joke or other that made her laugh. She threw back her head, and her tumble of blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, highlighted against the red plaid of her flannel shirt. I remember thinking how fucking gorgeous she was. Like I could’ve looked at that face for hours and not gotten sick of it. She liked the song that was playing through the speakers — Wasteland, by Ten Years — so I turned it up, and she started nodding her head to it and humming along.
When I dropped her off, I offered to give her a ride home whenever she wanted. And then the next day, I found myself hanging out by her locker after school, hoping to catch her. When her eyes met mine in the locker, she gave me a little smile.
So began our friendship. And then, little by little, a lot more than that.
I knew she hated being in the foster home they placed her in after her mom’s death. She didn’t give me a lot of specifics, but I knew it wasn’t good. I always suspected there were things going on that maybe she wasn’t telling me. But I never wanted to push Brooke further than she wanted to go. She had this tough streak to her, but underneath she was soft. I wanted to get to that soft place. And I was willing to wait.
I remember the first time I kissed her. Brooke fucking trembled. Shit, the girls I was used to, some of ‘em would pretend to be virgins, but it was all just an act so they could play hard to get for a little bit. Brooke was different. That first kiss, I knew she wanted it, but I also knew I had to go slow. I knew from bein’ in locker rooms and from what other girls said that I was bigger than average — much bigger — and I didn’t want to scare Brooke. I wanted her to be ready for me, and for what I was sure would be her first time.
There was something about waiting that was actually kind of a turn-on. Oh, it was torture, don’t get me wrong. I spent more time jacking off than you could imagine, just to keep the blue balls away. But I was makin’ progress with her. When I’d take her out to a movie or just to go hang out, more often than not we’d end up dry humping in the back of my dad’s truck or on a secluded picnic table in a city park. I got to know the way her breathing would speed up when I
did something she liked. But I also learned that little hitch in her throat when shit was getting too intense and I needed to back off.
Then one day, she stopped talking to me.
We didn’t have a fight. There wasn’t anything that happened. She just totally fuckin’ withdrew. I went to her locker after school, and she wasn’t there. I looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. I drove to her house, but her foster parents said she wasn’t at home.
For the next two days, she managed to completely avoid me at school, even though I knew her schedule like the back of my goddamn hand. Then, on the third day, I caught her coming out of a math class. I confronted her, but she looked through me like I was a total stranger. All the light that used to be in her eyes when she looked at me was gone. Her mouth was pursed, her jaw set. She totally froze me out.
At first, my ego was so fuckin’ bruised I pretended I didn’t care. I acted like she’d never mattered to me, even though nothing could have been further from the truth. I made sure she saw me hanging out in the halls, laughing with my friends. Girls always flirted with me, and I played it up, hoping she’d see it and get jealous.
Then, three weeks later, it was her eighteenth birthday. It was a school day, but she didn’t show up. I looked for her all day, breaking my promise to myself to pretend like she didn’t exist.
Finally that night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove to her house, hoping to catch her by surprise. I thought maybe I could convince her to let me take her out to celebrate or something.
Her foster dad Mr. Bonner answered the door, looking pissed. He said she’d run away that morning, before they’d woken up. Left a note saying she wouldn’t be back.
She skipped town. Without a trace.
I figured I’d never see her again.
I look down at Brooke now, watching her slow, even breaths. Her eyelids flutter like she’s dreaming.
It feels good that she’s let her guard down with me as much as she has. The way she loses herself in the moment when I’m fucking her — it’s hotter than hell. She seems to need that, the loss of control.
My cock stirs under the sheets. I think about waking her up, but she needs her sleep.
Goddamnit.
I’m falling for a girl who already left me once.
What’s that thing they say about the definition of insanity? Doin’ the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?
I must be about as insane as they come.
The next morning I let her sleep late. She wanders out of my bedroom around ten, wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts and lookin’ so sexy it makes me want to stop what I’m doing and pull her back into bed.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she complains groggily.
“You needed it. How’s your head?”
“Not bad. How’s it look?” She turns her face to show me. There’s a purplish-green bruise blooming right where her cheekbone is, but the swelling’s gone down.
“It’s better today.” I nod toward the kitchen. “There’s coffee if you want it.”
She shakes her head. “You have any bread for toast?”
“Yup. Help yourself. Hey, Jewel called. Natalia’s already at her place. She got out of the hospital this morning. Isabel knew she was being discharged, so she called Jewel to come pick her up.”
“Holy crap.” Brooke shoots me a worried look. “I hope Jewel wasn’t followed. After last night, I’m worried for Natalia’s safety.”
I see her point. “You think they need protection?”
“Maybe.” She bites her lip. “Could we go over there? Like, now? I’d feel better seeing where Jewel lives for myself.”
“Sure, we can do that.”
“I’m going to take a quick shower.” Brooke does an about face and heads for my bathroom. As she goes, she pulls my shirt up over her head, revealing that she’s naked beneath it.
“You’re killing me here,” I call after her.
“Nothing saying you can’t join me,” she calls back, a smile in her voice.
Well, fuck.
That shower is barely big enough for me.
But goddamn if we won’t make it work.
24
Brooke
I tell myself that seducing Travis into the shower with me was just a fun stress reliever before what could be a very stressful day. But if I’m honest, I just want to prolong the feeling I’ve had with him since we got here last night.
The feeling of being safe. And secluded. Like there’s only us, and the rest of the world doesn’t matter.
Kind of fucked up, since we’re not a couple. And this is only sex.
For him, at least. For me, I’m a little scared that it’s starting to feel like something else. Something more.
When Lafontaine sent me down here to Tanner Springs, I had a lot of reservations about the whole thing. I wanted to do my job, but I didn’t want the memories that I knew would come with returning to the town where I grew up. I resolved to keep my emotions at bay, and stay as uninvolved and unemotional as possible.
Instead, I ran straight into my past. And the first boy I ever loved. The only one, actually.
Because I was in love with Travis. He was the first person in my life other than my mom to make me feel special. Beautiful. Worth something.
It was the most amazing feeling when he used to look into my eyes. I couldn’t figure out what he saw in me, but I couldn’t get enough of it. Or of the way I felt when I was with him.
Except that underneath the warmth — underneath the wonder that someone would rather be with you than anyone else — there was something deeper. Darker.
Fear.
A fear so complicated I couldn’t quite define it. I was afraid of how strong my feelings were for Travis. But it was more than that. I was afraid that the more I let him in, the more he’d see I wasn’t as special or as beautiful as he thought I was. I was afraid if I told him about how my stepfather used to touch me sometimes when he was drunk, he’d think there was something wrong with me. I thought if I told him the look in Mr. Bonner’s eyes told me he was thinking the same things, maybe Travis would think it was somehow my fault. That maybe I was asking for it. Leading them on.
And most of all?
I was terrified that if I let go — let myself trust Travis completely — he might turn out to be just like those men. An animal. A violent beast, hiding in plain sight in the shape of a man.
I wanted Travis so badly. I wanted more than anything to give myself to him. I loved the way he made my body feel, even though it scared me, too. I wanted more. I wanted everything with him.
Maybe we could have had it, too.
But then one day, shortly before my eighteenth birthday, I came back to the Bonners’ after school. I thought I was alone in the house, but Mr. Bonner wasn’t at work like I expected him to be.
He raped me on the landing of the stairs to the second floor. I didn’t even have time to run up to my room and lock the door.
When Mrs. Bonner came home, I thought about telling her. I thought about running away that night. I thought about all sorts of things. But in the end, I didn’t do any of them. Because somehow I knew Mrs. Bonner wouldn’t believe me. And I didn’t want CPS to place me in yet another home, where maybe things would be even worse.
So, instead, I said nothing. I stayed in my room, with my dresser up against my door, and waited for morning to come. I left for school. I walked the whole three miles there. I pretended nothing had happened at all.
Except that when I got close to the school grounds and thought about seeing Travis, I threw up behind a bush.
I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at me. I was sure he’d be able to see what had happened if he looked into my eyes. He’d know that I was dirty. If he touched me, I was sure I’d shatter into a million pieces.
I ran in the other direction. I spent the day walking around town, hiding from people so that no one would ask me why I wasn’t in school. I
only went back to the Bonners’ that night because I didn’t have any place else to stay. But I made sure Mrs. Bonner was there, and I barricaded my door with the dresser again.
The next day, I knew I couldn’t avoid school again without getting myself into trouble, so I went. I managed to avoid Travis completely that day. But the following day he caught me outside one of my classes. He kept asking me what was wrong, but I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t say anything. He thought I was mad at him, and that seemed like the best excuse, so I let him think it. I acted like he’d done something terrible. I pretended it in my mind, too. Pretended it until I almost believed it. Because I couldn’t let Travis in. If I let him in — if I told him what had happened — I knew that everything I was afraid of with him would come true. He’d think I was disgusting. He’d look at me like I was damaged goods. And worst of all, maybe he’d think that he had a right to take what he wanted from me, whether I wanted him to or not.
Just like Mr. Bonner had.
On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I left. I had a little money that got me out of town. I stayed in a homeless shelter in the city for a couple weeks, until I could get the death benefit from my mom’s insurance policy. I got my GED, and used the insurance payout to pay for my first couple years of college. Student loans got me through the rest. I never looked back at Tanner Springs, or the Bonners.
Or Travis.
I know better now. At least in theory. I know I wasn’t dirty. I know what happened to me wasn’t my fault.
But I also know things couldn’t have gone any further with Travis back then. If I’d stayed, I would have just saddled him with someone who was too fucked up to be any good as a girlfriend. I wanted him to be my first, but that was taken away from me. From us. I couldn’t believe in a happily ever after, after that. I would have been waiting for things to go bad between us. I would have been waiting for Travis to show me he was just like the others.
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