by Simone Elise
“Yeah, to tell you not to touch me!”
“Can we talk business now, or are you still wanting to storm off like a child?”
“Fuck off Tyson.” I was not talking him. Even though I was. I groaned. This was complicated. Why did I care if he spoke to me or not? Why did I care if he ignored me? Why the hell did it bother me so much?
I had to be cold to him. Do what he did to me. Force him away.
“I’ll talk to your dad. You don’t need to speak to me.” I tilted my head and glared at him. “You hate speaking to me. So don’t break a habit now.”
If he really wanted to speak to me he should have spoken to me when I attempted to make conversation with him last week.
“What do you want me to say?”
I scoffed again. Seriously? He had no idea what I might want to hear? How about why he went so hot and so cold on me? Why did it bother me so much? I wanted to yell at myself. It didn’t matter why he had done it; he had done it, and that was all that mattered.
I side-stepped him but he blocked me.
“Come on, my dad won’t accept me not getting the details from you.”
I didn’t care if he got in trouble with his father. I crossed my arms.
“Come on, Layla. Don’t make me say it.”
I continued to glare at him. He could still get fucked. And if he didn’t move, I would be forced to push past him.
He groaned. “Fine. You’re going to make me say it.” He sounded disgusted at the thought of telling me whatever he thought he had to say. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to hear it.
I watched his expression harden. He looked furious. “I don’t do this,” he snapped at me.
“What, not talk to people? Trust me, you should do it more often. Save other people the misfortune of speaking to you.” I broke my silence but couldn’t stop myself.
His expression hardened even more and he was back to glaring at me. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“Say what Tyson?!” I threw my arms up. “I have no idea what you are talking about! I don’t want to talk to you. I want to leave!”
“Yep. I’m going to have to do it.” He took a step toward me and I took my opportunity and attempted to go around him but he blocked me again. “At least hear me out? You are forcing me to say it after all.”
What was I forcing him to tell me? He looked really torn up about it.
“Whatever it is, Tyson, just keep it to yourself.” I gave him some advice and went to walk around him, but he blocked me again and I groaned. “Why won’t you let me leave?”
“I like you.”
I frowned. “No, you don’t.” If anything he hated me. “You hate me, Tyson. You clearly don’t know the difference between like and hate.”
“Nah I was…” He groaned. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“What are you trying to say? I don’t understand!”
“I was pissed off you got it on with Cameron. I thought I had made it clear to you I was interested and then you go let one of my brothers have you!”
“I didn’t get with Cameron! He felt me up and I punched him!”
“Yeah, I know that now!” He let a frustrated sigh. “I shouldn’t have listened to him to begin with.”
Men. All they cared about was the opinion of other men. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” I went to walk around him but he blocked me again.
“It does matter because I was a dick.”
“Not was. Am.”
“Layla.”
“Don’t Layla me.” I snapped, not in the mood. “Please move.” I was saying please. And I think that was asking nicely. After how he treated me, me saying please was a big deal.
“I’m sorry.”
I knew he wasn’t used to saying those words and by the expression on his face it looked like it physically hurt him to say it.
Which meant he didn’t mean them.
“Move, Tyson. I don’t do games.” I crossed my arms. “And I don’t accept your apology.”
“You should have told me you didn’t hook up with Cameron!”
“You didn’t ask me!” God, what a frustrating situation. “Clearly you don’t know me. Because someone that knows me would know I wouldn’t do something like that!”
“You’re right, I don’t know you.” He stepped into my personal space. “But I want to.” He did it again. He touched me; his hand on my hip. “Let me get to know you?”
“You’re asking me to let you get to know me?” I didn’t let people get to know me. I was a private person. Hannah had been the only one to get to really know me.
“Give me a shot? I know you might not think it but I’m a good guy,” he grinned. “Please, Layla.”
Give him a shot? Nope. Not doing it.
“You know, there is one thing I can use to get to know someone.” He lowered his voice, “Can we do this my way?”
His way? What did he mean by that? My breath got caught when he dipped his head. Please don’t do it. His lips brushed mine. God, why would he do that to me! Getting me addicted on something I’d never get a good dose of.
His lips brushed mine again, this time firmer. I was such an idiot. I should push him away! Instead, I was standing still.
He pulled back, locking his eyes with mine. “How about I let you get to know me and then if you trust me you can let me get to know you?”
I opened my mouth but didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Something was telling me he was trustworthy, yet a louder part of me was screaming to never get close to him, to not let him get his wish, to not let him get to know me. Because then he would know how to destroy me.
I was a sucker for people. I cared what they thought. I cared about people. Even when I didn’t want to, I still cared. So it really bothered me when he cut me off. One night he was all over me, literally, and the next he couldn’t string two words together and couldn’t stand the sight of me.
If he got to know me he would realize I cared. I cared a hell of a lot of what people thought. I would care what he thought of me. I had cared to begin with. That’s what got me so pissed off with him.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, watching me. He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, if there is one thing about you, Layla, it’s that you aren’t easy.” He sighed. “Come on, give me a shot?”
I should really leave. Yet, I found myself still standing in front of him. “Twelve.”
He frowned. “Twelve what?”
“Cyrus. He has twelve fronts already.” Fronts were businesses he controlled but laundered money through.
He frowned. “We’re talking business?”
I nodded my head. It was the best I could do. “You said your dad would be upset if we didn’t. Cyrus will be pissed if I don’t get it over with, so, business.”
I watched as a plan clicked over in Tyson’s head.
“How about I ask you one business question and you ask me one personal question?” He was still set on the idea of me getting to know him. Did he really think I would open up to him? No matter how well I knew him, I didn’t see myself opening up to him. Because that was information he could use against me.
“Okay.”
“So, you answered my business question. You ask me something.” He smiled. “Anything at all. I want you to know me.”
I chewed my bottom lip. Why did I have a feeling this was going to backfire in my face?
Chapter Ten
Hannah
I don’t get fate. It was twisted and played games. I could never predict it. Fate had me facing down breast cancer. Fate had me in love with a man that would never feel the same. Fate had me questioning everything in my life. Fate had me questioning the way I lived my life. The relationships I had, the friendships I had. I questioned all of it.
And it would seem my enemy fate was pulling another trick on me as I stared at Brad. How the hell did he
know I was here? I’d paid cash for the room.
“Um, what are you doing here?” I finally found words after staring at him for a solid minute, taking in his worn vest and clean clothes. His jeans didn’t have grease stains on them. His top wasn’t covered in blood, grease or dirt.
I frowned. He looked like he had put effort in.
“Are you by yourself?” he asked and shoved his hands in his pockets like the answer to that question meant more to him than it should.
“Nah, Tatz is in the shower.”
I saw his expression drop as if I had just confirmed his worst nightmare.
“Just kidding. I’m by myself.” I opened the door up wider and couldn’t stop the grin when his expression hardened. “What do you want, Brad? How did you find me?”
I sure as hell didn’t tell him where I was and doubted Layla had told him.
He leaned against the doorframe. “Put a tracker on your phone.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You did what!?” I couldn’t believe he would violate my privacy like that. “How could you do that to me?” God, what if he had tracked me going to the hospital? Was that why he was here? To find out the reason I went there twice a day?
“Calm down. I’m the only one who can track it.” He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Haven’t seen you since you dropped that bomb about Tatz.”
“So you thought you would just track me down?” I snapped at him. I loved my privacy. “Has Dad been watching where I’ve been going?” It dawned on me that Dad would know he had put a tracker on my phone. Could fate be that twisted that my secret was already out and I didn’t know it?
“No, only me.”
“So, get to it then.” I was ready for his questions about why I was living at a hospital. I crossed my arms, and couldn’t stop my glare from forming.
He frowned. “Get to what?”
“You’ve been…” I clamped my mouth shut. Maybe he didn’t know? It wasn’t like I was going directly to the hospital. It was close to it though. It was the cancer clinic. Maybe he hadn’t put two and two together.
I looked at him a bit harder. Yeah, he didn’t know. If he knew he would be questioning me now. He would be demanding answers. Not standing here asking if I was alone or not.
“Why are you here, Brad?” My mind was slowly calming down after having a full-on panic attack.
“Wanted to see you.” He stared down at me. “Been trying to see you all week but you’re never home.”
“Why?” I didn’t understand why he would want to see me. Why would he want to see me? I didn’t see why, but he was looking at me like the answer was obvious.
“Been meaning to thank you.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and scratched the back of his neck. “About what you did last weekend.”
“What did I do?”
“You lied to your dad. I would have taken the beating. I deserved it for touching you.”
“Well, like I said, you regretted it. No point you dying over it.” I wasn’t doing regrets. But I got that he did. I saw it on his face as soon as he realized what he had done.
He took his hand off the back of his neck and the nervous expression that had been on his face dropped and a serious one took its place. “I don’t.” He stepped forward, sounding extremely determined; his hand spreading across my cheek, cupping my face. “I don’t regret it.”
I could tell by his tone, his expression and his body language that he meant it. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret kissing me. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that Brad was looking at me the way he was looking at me right now.
My mouth dropped open slowly as my mind ran over those facts. Had he really just said that? Right now he was looking like it was taking all his willpower to not kiss me.
He was acting like all week he’d been waiting to see me to tell me just that. To tell me he didn’t regret it. The Brad I knew would never admit to kissing me—or better yet, say he didn’t regret it. Surely he didn’t see me the way I saw him?
The way I saw his every highlight. I was in love with everything about him; I had been for a long time now. He was the first guy I had a crush on and, as time went past, that crush never went away; it went from a crush, to lust, to yearning, and then to love.
I realized that as my feelings only grew stronger for him. Weeks, months, years—all had me wanting him more not less.
When he touched me, I loved it. When he looked at me, like I was special, I loved it. And for some reason, I didn’t know why, but he would make an extra special effort with me. He would always sit next to me at family dinners.
Often during the week I would binge-watch television shows in his room. Dad never seemed to mind. I would even sleep on Brad’s couch some nights after staying up late with him. Again, nobody questioned it. Because Brad and I had a friendship that had this underlying level of respect. Everyone saw our friendship and no one ever said it was unhealthy.
It was my feelings toward him that made it unhealthy. But I was a good actress. I could pretend to him that our friendship was only that to me: a friendship.
But for years it had been more. Well, more to me.
My eyes ran over him again as he stood in the doorway, watching me. Was he waiting for me to freak out after he said he didn’t regret it? Was he waiting for my reaction?
What I was about to do next would take courage and I was finding myself needing my courage more and more every day. But somehow—I didn’t know how—I did have courage. Over the years it must have grown and now I counted on it every day. And right now in this moment, I was counting on it to help me again.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was about to order food.” Was that stepping over a line? He had just admitted he didn’t regret kissing me. But at the same time, I knew he wouldn’t take it further than a kiss. So inviting him in wouldn’t end terribly, would it?
“When did you last eat, cause there is barely anything left of you.” He didn’t hide his disapproval. His hand went from my face and ran down my side, stopping on my hip. “Wasn’t planning on staying, sweetheart. Just wanted to see you.”
He stepped forward and kissed my forehead. I knew then I wasn’t letting him go. Even if it wasn’t the right thing to do.
My hands gripped his vest. “Come in.” I looked up at him. “Please?” I would beg if I had to. Suddenly a night alone wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be with Brad. I knew he didn’t love me like I did. But still, his friendship, well, that was something that was making me have courage.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll behave, I promise.”
“Sweetheart, I’m the one who can’t behave.” His hand moved slightly on my hip and I saw him swallow sharply when his thumb touched my skin. “I should really go.”
He was saying that with regret on his face. I was going to have to use that to my advantage. If he didn’t want to go then that meant there was a part of him that wanted to stay here with me. In a private hotel room, so far away from the eyes that watched us every day.
“Or you could stay? Make sure I eat?” I went up on my toes, “Come on, Brad. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
My best behavior? Wasn’t sure if I could do that but I would try if that meant he stayed.
He was thinking about it. I smiled. And then before he made up his mind, I took his other hand and slowly pulled him in. I felt like a black widow spider pulling her prey into her web. He groaned, “Can you at least put more clothes on?”
I smiled. He said that like me in shorts and a singlet was killing him. He lifted our linked hands up and then kissed the back of my hand.
“So, do you want anything to eat?” I asked, slightly breathless by how sweet that was. He kissed my hand like I was special. Special to him.
His brown eyes locked with mine. And I saw he was keeping something from me. An emotion. Whatever it was he was making sur
e I didn’t see it.
My eyes ran over the vice president patch over his heart. That meant he was loyal to Dad. Brad wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. I was young. I was the Reaper’s daughter. No sane man would come near me.
Plus I had cancer. I wouldn’t leave a trail of people grieving me behind. So I unlinked our hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking my withdrawal as a sign I didn’t want him touching me. Which was the opposite.
“Nothing.” I gave him a smile. It was a fake smile but I was giving fake smiles out a lot now. “Food. Do you want some?”
“Nah, I’ll just be happy to see you eat.”
With him looking like that, it was making me hungry but not for food. I swallowed sharply, ripping my eyes off his toned body. I swear he lived to get his body at best performance. He and Dad always spotted each other in the gym on the weights.
I was rarely in the gym because I hated exercise. But I would make up excuses to go see Dad when he worked out because Brad would be there with no top on, showing off his tattooed body.
Brad had the best tattoos. Not ones just done in prison but ones done by real artists. His tattoos had detail and they flowed with a theme. I would get lost looking at the detail in his tattoos. They were so perfect. Like the see no, hear no, speak no evil one that was scrolled across his chest with skulls.
Also, the loyalty to the club showed on his body. Not just the scars but in his tattoos too. The Satan’s Sons tattoo was proudly on his back. The Satan’s Sons logo was also worked into his sleeves.
He loved the club. Which was why I knew he would never do anything to risk losing it. I was a risk. He loved the club and Dad way too much to be with me.
I was underage. I was young. I was everything he didn’t want. I also had cancer and who the hell would want to be with me?
I forced myself to smile at him. Yeah, the fact that I had cancer rolled through my mind again. Nobody would want to be with me.
“Right, well, I’m ordering you food anyway. I hate eating to begin with. So if I’m eating, then you are too.” I settled it. He was eating. And I wasn’t eating alone like planned. I turned my back to him and picked the menu up.