Breached (Breach #4)

by K. I. Lynn

  “I can’t fucking stand you,” he seethed. “Now, get the fuck away from her.”

  “Make me,” I said in challenge, our faces inches apart. “If she wants me to get away from her, she needs to tell me, not some overgrown, jealous Neanderthal.”

  Lila’s small hand pressed against me, the heat from her touch calming me enough to listen to her.

  “Boys, we need to get inside before my neighbor comes out, and you both know how she is.”

  Lila turned to the door and fumbled with her purse in search of her keys. It was taking too long, so I pulled mine from my pocket and handed them to her.

  “Here.”

  The fucker gasped in shock.

  Yeah, you don’t have a key, do you, asshole?

  She ushered us in, handing me my keys.

  “Are you kidding me? He has a fucking key? To your condo? Hell no,” Andrew growled.

  Lila threw her bags down and slammed the door shut before turning on him. “Andrew! You don’t know anything about what is going on, so shut up.”

  “He’s fucking playing with you, Lila. Open your eyes. He sticks his fucking dick in anything that has a pussy!”

  I closed the distance between us and got right up in his fucking face, ready to deck him. He had made me blood-thirsty from the moment I first met him.

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “How long have you been stringing her along? Making her think she’s different from the other girls?”

  “As I said, you don’t know anything. Because if you did, you would know the only woman I’ve been with for almost four months is Lila.”

  The expression fell from his face, and he looked toward Lila. She wasn’t impressed by any of our posturing. There was a satisfaction that sunk in as his eyes grew wide. Fucking finally he knew—he understood.

  She didn’t want him. He finally knew all the marks left on her were from me.

  Lila was mine.

  “No. Him?” He pointed toward me. “It was him at the bar? It’s him who marks you? Him who understands you?”

  Lila simply nodded, refusing to elaborate. Which was good, because he had no right to our relationship.

  I stepped up, getting his attention. “Yes. Me. I see her. I’m the one who sleeps with her every night. It’s my cock shoved in that fucking tight pussy of hers,” I growled. My arm shot out, and I pointed to the door. “So, get the fuck out of here so I can pin her against the wall and make her forget that anyone other than me has ever been inside her.”

  He needed to fucking go. He didn’t belong.

  Suddenly, his hands were fisted in my jacket as he pulled me so we were face to face.

  “You don’t deserve to be in the same fucking room as her.”

  I pushed him off with so much force, he stumbled back. “What the fuck is your problem? You just can’t let her go, can you? Wasn’t it you who left her?”

  What the fuck kind of claim did he think he had on his ex-girlfriend?

  “And what do you know about me, Andrew? That I fucked around with women over the last two years? Yes, that’s true. I needed an outlet for my anger, frustration, and sexual needs. Who the fuck cares? She doesn’t.” I gestured to Lila.

  “If that’s all you know and that’s all you care to know, then leave,” she said.

  Andrew stared at her, and I could see the hurt, but I really didn’t care.

  “This is a breach of both of your employment contracts. You know that, right?” he asked.

  “Of course we know,” Lila said. “Are you planning on saying something so we’ll both get fired? Is your prejudice of Nathan that great? So great you would endanger my job as well? And my happiness?”

  “I… Lila…” He let out a sigh as he begged her with his eyes. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, and I think he could damage you.”

  “Nathan has no devious plan, no ulterior motives. He’s a good man, and you need to open your eyes and see. Because all you’re looking at is the act, what he shows you, not the real man.”

  Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.

  “Now get the hell out of my home, and don’t fucking come back until you’re ready to know him—ready to know us. I’m an adult and can make my own goddamn decisions. I choose who I want to be with. And it’s him. He’s the one I want.”

  Fuck, yes, we are, the beast growled from his cage.

  His body slouched in defeat. “Good girl.”

  Good girl? Was she a fucking dog, or was he really that clueless as to how strong she could be?

  She smiled back, and he turned to leave.

  His love for her in whatever capacity could render him an ally, as much as I hated to admit it. Much like Caroline, he did have her best interest at heart, and I had to commend him on that.

  “If you want to find out some truth—as true as the news will give you, anyway—then do what Caroline did and Google my name,” I said. His eyes met mine, the animosity gone. “And once you’ve done that and found some truth, then you can come and try to tell us what kind of person I am, but not before. Because I guarantee your opinions will change.”

  He nodded and headed to the door.

  Seconds after the door clicked closed, I had Lila pinned against the wall as I devoured her mouth. It was what I needed to calm down and I slowed, nuzzling her.

  “Mine,” I said.

  Her fingers caressed my cheek as she smiled up at me. “Always.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I wasn’t surprised the next morning when Andrew came up and wrapped his arms around me in a firm hug.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered too low for Lila to hear.

  It wasn’t an, “I’m sorry I was such a douche,” but an, “I’m sorry for what you went through.”

  We pulled back, and I stared him in the eye and nodded. Andrew gave me a sad smile, then glanced to Lila.

  “I won’t say anything.”

  Lila didn’t understand, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. She knew more truth about what happened to me physically, but unlike Caroline and Drew, she didn’t know what I’d lost.

  There was no longer animosity between us, which confused Lila to no end. The fire had died, and he accepted that Lila was mine. A friendship formed, and it was the first one I’d had in years. I’d forgotten what it was like to talk to someone who didn’t walk on eggshells around me.

  I begged Lila to give me time, but I wasn’t sure there would ever be enough time to prepare me for that conversation.

  Scandal hit the office a week later, and suddenly Lila and I were on edge again. The rumored relationship between two Holloway employees turned out to be true. The non-fraternization was so strict it even covered those working in two different departments that didn’t interact. For all anyone knew, they could have met at a bar and found out later they had the same employer.

  It wasn’t the same for us. Our small office only seemed to shrink while the tension soared.

  “Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks, right?” Lila asked one afternoon as I flipped through a file.

  Every muscle froze as a barrage of images flew across my vision and a sudden flare of pain erupted in my chest.

  “I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

  I didn’t have to look at Lila or say another word. She didn’t ask any questions or even speak. Most people would verbalize their internal questions, but she silenced hers.

  In fact, Lila barely asked questions about me, and only delved into my past when something brought it up. Like my Harvard T-shirt. We both knew all she had to do was Google my name and any questions she had would be answered, but she never did.

  Which only made our situation volatile. She was waiting on me to open up, but it would never happen. I cared for her, but I didn’t think I could and would ever tell her. It was too deep, a hole I didn’t want to go near. Why would I jump into that kind of emptiness and drag her in with me?

  Just the thought of my birthday sent the darkness crawling in like a fog.


  The fog grew with each day, wrapped around me with each passing hour. Every day, it got thicker and darker. Lila had me so distracted that the date crept up on me, but the second she reminded me, albeit unintentionally, everything turned.

  The anniversary was a blanket of oppression stifling each breath. With each day, the darkness closed in. My hands shook, anxiety buzzing through my veins.

  It all leaked into my time with Lila. The only way to release the pressure and the pain was hard, rough fucking.

  “Nate, you shouldn’t be doing that,” Grace said.

  I quirked a brow at her and looked down at the game of chess before me.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  There was something eerie about all of it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “It’s dangerous.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a game, Grace.”

  “No. It’s not. You’re blind,” she said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Look, Nate.”

  I stared down at the pieces on the board. Instead of the normal pieces, there were people. On the opposite side of the board were men dressed in dark suits. The king was familiar. A frightening familiarity. The queen beside him was a woman I knew well.

  “Grace?” I picked up the piece and, sure enough, it was my wife.

  The eyes popped open, and she looked surprised before she began screaming, but no sound came out. I set the piece back down, the dark eyes of Vincent Marconi looking back before lifting his arm, gun in hand, toward the other side of the board.

  I was the king, and beside me was a broken and frail looking queen that was an unmistakable tiny version of Lila.

  “What is going on?” I asked.

  “It’s a choice.”

  I scrunched my brow. “A choice? I thought it was a game.”

  “Choices are moves in games. You chose to go left instead of right.”

  The queen moved left, putting her in the intercepting path of Vincent’s gun.

  “Each choice is an action and as such, has a reaction. We’re all pieces on a game board, but look at your side. There are no pawns left to protect you or your queen. One lonely rook, one beaten knight, are all you have left.”

  “He destroyed it all,” I whispered.

  “No, he didn’t. You did. And you will destroy her.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Never.”

  “What about me, Nate? We were forever, and now we’re never. The only similarity is ever. Life isn’t guaranteed, but ever is always there. Ever is the catalyst for life and death. At any time, in any way.”

  “I won’t. Lila will be fine.”

  “Lila will be dead.”

  “Don’t say that!” I screamed and grabbed her by the arms. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again. She will live, even if I have to die.”

  She began to glow, morphing. Blue eyes turned a clear gray-green. I wanted to smile, kiss her, but red droplets began to cover her, and her eyes stared at me in a hauntingly familiar empty look.

  “I’m already dead.”

  Shaking woke me, and my eyes snapped open. I was out of the bed in seconds, my leg stiff from sleep causing me to stumble as I made my way to the bathroom. I leaned over the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it on my face.

  A dream. A fucking terror.

  I felt Lila behind me, staring, but I couldn’t look at her. The image was too fresh, her body mangled and bloody, and I was to blame.

  I heard her call, saw her reach out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t respond. I shied away from her, from her outstretched hand, and crawled back into bed.

  The dream only called out my harsh reality and what being with me ultimately meant for her. It was something I ignored because for the first time in years, I felt some measure of happiness.

  But my happiness was not worth her life.

  I would keep her alive even if it killed me in every way possible.

  My mood, my situation, did not improve. My heart beat a furious pace at almost all times, my anxiety at epic levels.

  “Do you want to do anything special for your birthday?” Lila asked one afternoon.

  My birthday?

  The shock alone sent a spear of pain through me. How did she know?

  It was an innocent question, but to me, it was a dagger shoved into my chest. “Please don’t say that again, and don’t tell anyone. I don’t celebrate my birthday…not anymore.”

  Lila didn’t say anything or ask any questions.

  When the actual date rolled around, I retreated into myself, something Lila took notice of. I was hard with her, the devastating energy driving me. I needed the mind-wiping come, needed it to drag me under and make me forget. Shine light on me, guide me in the emptiness.

  What was worse was two days later. Halfway through the day, I left without a word. Jack would understand, and there’d be no trouble, but I couldn’t even tell Lila. I had to get out of there, had to drown myself just to get past the day, past the hour. The countdown to 9:16 pm.

  I shouldn’t have even stepped inside the office. There was no way I’d be able to handle it.

  The moment I was home, I pulled the vodka from the fridge and took a long, hard pull straight from the bottle. It was only a third full and wouldn’t last long.

  Deep inside I shook, from my core expanding outward. I wasn’t good to be around, nothing but a destructive force.

  The draw to see her moved me to the closet and the box that lay hidden. I hadn’t even acknowledged its existence since that day months before when it tried to pull me under. But I needed it, more than anything. I needed to see her, to see them, to completely submerge myself in the pain.

  I threw the blankets and sheets off, uncovering the box and pulling it into the middle of the closet. My hands shook as I flipped the lid, the beast howling inside my mind, but I was driven by the need to see, to rip open the scars of my heart.

  A vice wrapped around my chest as I lifted the lid, getting a glimpse of my wife for the first time in over a year. Tears filled my eyes as I looked over the top photo, the one I used to have sitting on my desk. Jack stood between us beaming with pride, my wife’s eyes sparkling.

  Life was so easy, simple then. At least that was how it seemed looking back. Photos of us in college, my Harvard graduation were in there. Then came our wedding photos. We were so young and naïve, ready to tackle the world.

  I took another large gulp of vodka as the tears slowly trailed down my cheeks.

  I pulled a small jewelry box out and opened it up. Inside sat the only remnant of that wedding—my wedding ring. The small ring of gold was the only thing to survive the crash intact, not even a small divot in the smooth surface. They managed to get it off before it had to be cut off due to the swelling from my broken arm.

  I finished off the bottle, my mind a complete wasteland. I needed more, so I picked myself up from the disaster zone I’d created, slipped the ring into my pocket, and headed to the kitchen.

  Once there, I stared into the fridge and the six pack of beer that sat on the shelf, one of the bottles missing. I’d been drinking the same brand for over a decade. My wife had brought it home one day in a mixed package of different beers.

  My chest expanded, and I let out a howl, all of my energy concentrated as I tried to force my pain out. Loud and wounded, but it wasn’t enough to expel the churning despair inside me.

  Nothing in me was salvageable. I shouldn’t have taken the job, but it was just another piece in a long line of my failures.

  I grab hold of anything in the kitchen not tied down and threw it, dinging walls and sending shards of debris everywhere, screaming as I let it all wash over me and take over.

  My breath was hard, the kitchen a mess of broken glass and ceramic. I opened the fridge again and pulled out the package of beer. In less than a minute I had the top popped and the first bottle drained.

  Two more in hand, I grabbed my cigarettes and headed out to the porch. It was warm,
the day too nice outside for the destruction inside me. I was a bomb, explosive and destructive.

  Numbness moved through me as I finished one beer and opened another.

  I lost my entire life—my home, my job, my family, my health. Everything that I was, gone in an instant.

  The ring in my hand was a reminder of how fucked up I’d become. I stared at it, remembering the moment she slipped it on my finger.

  It was a symbol of love, and now it was a symbol of loss.

  “Nathan?”

  Lila’s voice penetrated through the emptiness, and a searing pain cut through me as I continued to twirl the ring in my fingers. I wasn’t going to let her end up like my wife. Loving me was a death sentence.

  I had to let her go.

  “You shouldn’t have come today, Lila,” I said, my voice hollow even to my own ears. I reached down and picked the bottle up and took a swig. “I can’t control what I may do. I’ll hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Run. Run while you can. Don’t let me destroy you.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s wrong.” Determination laced her voice.

  There was no holding it back from her. She’d seen the ring. “Four years ago today, everything fell to ruin. Leave, Lila.”

  The pain whirled inside me, growing and heaving.

  “I’m not leaving, not when you’re finally talking.” She stepped closer.

  I needed her to understand, to get away from me, to save herself before it was too late. “I don’t just mean today. Leave me. What we have is fucked up.”

  Save yourself.

  “It may be fucked up, but it’s helping us both. We need each other.”

  “I’m not good to be around.”

  “You are. You are good to be around,” she said, her voice breaking.

  No!

  The violent energy surged, and I stood and flung the bottle against the wall. Liquid and shards of glass sprayed everywhere. In my periphery, she jumped, perhaps frightened of me for the first time.

  I wanted to break something, mangle, hurt myself on the outside until the pain went away on the inside.

  “You don’t fucking get it! I lost everything that mattered most. My family. The family they stole from me, and the one I pushed away for their own safety.”