Lost in the Shadows (The Lost Series Book 3)

by Tracie Douglas

  Whatever customers there are have congregated around the bar while a woman stands on top it, scantily clad, swinging her hips in sync to the music.

  I glance around the room for Penny, worried something is wrong. When I don’t see her, panic begins to fill my chest, but a flash of blond catches my eye, and I look at the woman dancing on top of the bar. I step closer, studying her. My heart skips a beat when I finally recognize her. The woman, now teasingly removing one strap of her lace bra, is Penny.

  My Penny.

  Son of a bitch.

  My feet move before I tell them to, taking me in the direction of the bar, and I groan when my wife turns to shake her ass in everyone’s faces. The men whoop with joy, egging her on for more. Praying I make it to her before she reveals herself to the men around her, I curse loudly and push my way through to her.

  “What are you doing?” I ask the moment my hands touch her, grasping at her jean-covered legs. I manage to pull her down and shield her from prying eyes. She giggles, and when her drunken gaze meets mine, I curse again because she’s fucking plastered. I take a deep breath.

  “Damien,” she singsongs, turns, and throws her arms around my neck. “Where have you been?”

  One of the men in the crowd steps forward and grabs her arm, pulling her toward him. My arm wraps around her waist, keeping her next to me, while the other pushes him away.

  “Hey, man,” the hairiest man in the room balks, eyeing me like there’s a foul stench in the room. He’s had a few too many as well, but it’s the stench of the alcohol and a body in dire need of a shower that he smells. And he’s the source. “Saw her first. Get your own.”

  It takes everything in me to keep my wits as the urge to smash the guy’s nose in shoots right threw me. Fuck the stench. I’ll pummel his ass. She is not some piece of property he can claim.

  Mine!

  “Fuck off,” I growl and shoot him a glare. She falls against me, too drunk to support her own weight. How much did she drink?

  “Was only having a little fun.” She smiles up at me, slurring her words. I wrap my arm tighter around her, and the men around us start hollering and complaining. The barkeep pulls the plug on the music, and the room falls silent.

  “Hey, man, let the girly dance.” Stinky Sasquatch reaches for her again. “Told you, I saw her first.”

  “Unless you want to pick your fucking teeth off the floor, I suggest you close that sorry excuse of a mouth and back the fuck up,” I fume, feeling my irritation turn into anger. I have a few inches on him, but he’s bulkier. Of course, his bulk isn’t muscle like mine, but I don’t want to fight him. Penny groans, and when her head flops against my chest, I look down at her. “Sweetheart, we need to put your shirt and jacket on. It’s freezing outside.”

  “Fuck you, Rambo,” Stinky Sasquatch declares and takes a step closer, reaching for her jacket. He doesn’t like that I’ve told her to put her clothes on. Fuck, I don’t need this shit right now, not after the day I’ve had. But Stinky Sasquatch isn’t going to let up. “You want her, you wait for your fucking turn like everyone else here.”

  I freeze. The meaning behind his words is the last fucking straw. I turn on him, pushing Penny behing me. I don’t want this shitwad anywhere near her. I stare at him, wishing she weren’t this wasted so I could take him out back and give him the thrashing he deserves. But she’s drunk, and I have to be careful in case the others decide to step in and help him. Stinky Sasquatch flinches, cowering a little under my glare.

  “She’s not a whore, you inbred hillbilly motherfucker.” Stinky’s face pales before turning bright red and angry. He’s out of line, and he’s going to know it when I’m done. “She’s my wife.”

  He takes a step back, and his anger gets replaced with fear. That’s right, cocksucker, be afraid of me.

  “Yo, man, didn’t know she was married.” He lifts his hands defensively. “No harm, no foul.”

  But he’s wrong. There is harm. There is foul. If he thinks it’s okay to treat a woman this way, he’s got a big fucking problem.

  Me.

  I look down at the woman pressed to my side. She’s barely hanging on, but her blue eyes are large and watching the exchange between him and me with shock. I see a flicker of longing, and for a moment, I let it simmer. After everything we’ve been through, I’m learning to like the fact she’s attracted to me. I know it’s a dick thing to say, especially after fighting this thing happening between us and making her feel like shit for it. But we always seem to end up here, and I like it.

  “Can you sit down?” I ask, and she nods. She shoves her arms roughly into her coat. I’m sure she isn’t feeling any pain, and she sits down on the barstool behind her. The glazed look on her face tells me it won’t be long before she passes out. Fuck, I got here just in time. Who knows what Stinky Sasquatch would’ve done with her passed out? I don’t even know if she’s ever had a drink in her life, let alone been drunk before.

  The barkeep eyes me wearily because he knows what’s about to go down. He’s read the situation right, and he does nothing to stop it from happening. Maybe Stinky has had this coming for a while and I’m the first to do something about it. I’m pissed and itching to punch beef boy’s bearded face.

  “Penny, don’t move from this spot, okay?” She nods, trying her best to remain upright. I turn around and glare at the hairy motherfucker I’m tired of staring at.

  “Man, seriously, my bad,” he whines and takes a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I growl and step toward him. “What’s your name?”

  “Tiny,” he squeaks. The group of men that once stood around the bar has already moved across the room, providing plenty of room around us. Tiny looks around for support from them, but there is none. They all ignore his eyes. They know the trouble he’s bought, and they want no piece of it.

  “You’re not serious, right?” I laugh at him. Tiny? Guy is anything but tiny. He nods. “Well, then, Tiny, we have a situation.”

  “We do?”

  “See, from what I’ve gathered, you don’t have a lot of respect for women,” I explain, and a dawning realization filters into his mud-colored eyes. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, trying to argue, but I’ve seen and heard enough to know anything that comes out of his mouth will be a lie. “No, don’t talk. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

  “But—” he starts again, but my glare turns icy, freezing him in place.

  “I have this urge to plant my fist in your ugly-ass face.” His eyes grow wide. The bar is collectively silent, waiting on bated breath to see what I’m going to do. I find it interesting how this large man, with the mouth he has, is turning out to be a grade A pussy. It’s time to put my play in motion. “But I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m going to walk out of here, take my woman home, and tuck her in for the night.”

  “Okay,” he mumbles, completely confused by the change in my attitude. I want him this way, though. I want to see how badly he’s going to stick his foot into his mouth. He won’t be able to stop himself.

  “Before I go, I’m going to say one thing, though.” I step back and notice how quiet Penny’s become. I glance back at her and find her watching what’s developing with drunken curiousity. I want to be mad at her, but I’m the reason why she’s drinking her sorrows away. Shaking off the guilt, I look at Tiny, the mountain man resembling Sasquatch. “You need to learn the difference between a whore and a good woman just having a drink. A real man can spot the latter from a mile away. You didn’t.”

  His eyes turn heated, but I’m just getting started. Only now, I have to wait and see if he takes the bait. If he’s smart, he’ll turn and walk away, but he isn’t a smart man. I turn slightly away, giving him the chance to rebuild his courage and prove he’s as dumb as I thought from the start.

  “A real man doesn’t leave his bitch unattended in a bar to drink her sorrows away,” he snickers to my back. I freeze, letting the dumbass
finish because, let’s face it, there’s no fixing stupid. And this fucker is stupid. “A real man doesn’t let his woman jump on top or bars to strip for strange men. Looks like a whore, sounds like a whore, must be a whore.”

  The room goes cold and so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Every eye in the room is on us, watching and waiting. They know Tiny is about to have his ass handed to him, but Stinky Sasquatch can’t keep his mouth closed. He hasn’t bothered to look around him either; otherwise, he might have done the smart thing and kept his mouth closed.

  “A real man? Fuck, I bet your dick’s the size of a pencil, and that’s why she’s here. She needed to find a real man to satisfy that loose pussy.” His voice grows louder as he grows braver. “A real man would turn around and take his beating like the little bitch he is.”

  “You’re right, he should.” I spin on my heels, throwing my fist out as I do, and catch him off guard. Tiny might outweigh me, but I packed the power in my punch, and he falls backward, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He doesn’t move because he’s knocked out cold.

  I wait a moment to see if anyone is going to come to his aid. No one says anything. No one moves. They’re too shocked over what has happened. Tiny’s had his ass handed to him.

  Penny’s mouth hangs open; shock is written all over her face. Her pale skin is flushed from the alcohol, and her hair is wild from her little show... Fuck, she looks good.

  “You defended my honor,” she whispers, her drunken haze no longer so heavy. I look away, not wanting to see the stars in her eyes, and reach for her hand to pull her to her feet. After she steadies herself, we move toward the door. I pause us a moment to drop a few bills down on the end of the bar to close whatever tab she’s acquired during her visit. The barkeep nods at me.

  We walk out into the cold air, and I hope it’s a sobering moment for her, but she still isn’t far from passing out cold.

  “You feel sick?” I ask when we stop next to the truck and I open the passenger side door for her. She shakes her head. Her blue eyes are glued to my face, but I still can’t bring myself to look at her. She climbs up into the cab, and I slam the door closed.

  It’s dark out already, but I take the moment to walk around the truck to compose myself. I don’t know if I’m angry or grateful. Why she let herself drink that much I don’t know, but it’s hard to understand how she didn’t see the danger she put herself in. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t walked in when I did. She was nearly naked. The thought of that fucker touching her perfect skin makes my stomach sick.

  She’s dozing by the time I climb into the truck, and once we get on the road, she passes out completely.

  There is so much going through my head, I don’t remember the drive home. All I can think about is how much I want to shake her awake and make her realize how stupid she was. Fuck, how she got the bartender to serve her without identification is something I can’t figure out. Does she know how lucky she is?

  Fuck.

  Chapter 20

  Penelope

  I open my eyes to a dark room, in a soft bed with no memory of how I got there. I sit up and blink several times until the room comes into focus. When it does, I breathe a breath of relief.

  Damien…

  His name skitters across my brain for the thousandth time since he has come into my life. I wish I could block him out and forget him, even if only for five minutes. I need a break from my thoughts and the life I signed up for.

  As I swing my legs out of bed, cold air hits my bare skin and I realize I’m missing pants. My skin flushes as the memory of him undressing me surfaces. Snippets of events fill my head. Damien walking into the bar, pulling me down of the counter, knocking Tiny out, and then finally of Damien carrying me from the truck into the cabin.

  I shake my head, feeling the pain of my choice to drink my feelings away. It was a bad idea to drink so much, but I never intended to drink anything stronger than water.

  But everyone at the bar was nice to me, and they kept buying me drinks. Especially Tiny.

  It was refreshing to have someone to talk to. It helped me forget the pain I felt this morning when I came out of the room and our eyes met for only a second. He looked away first and continued to avoid me. Even as the truck pulled to a stop in the small town, I hoped he would stop me when I told him where I was going. He didn’t, and that hurt even more.

  I reach for the sweatpants draped over the end of the bed and walk out of the room, half expecting to find him passed out on the couch. He isn’t there. The cabin is empty and dark. There’s only one place he can be, and since I can see the truck from where I’m standing, I know where to find him.

  My jacket is hanging next to the door, and I pull it down, shoving my arms into it and slipping on the oversized boots I’ve been using since we arrived. The door opens quietly, and the cold greets me instantly.

  I step out to darkness, much like inside the cabin, but my body senses him the moment I cross the threshold. My boots drag along the wood planks as each step brings me closer to him.

  He’s sitting on the outdoor couch, the space heater blaring next to him, but the cold is too strong to feel it. His hand moves, and he brings a lit cigarette to his lips. The drag he pulls from it lights the tip brightly enough to give me a peek at his handsome face.

  I shiver, feeling warmth spread through my body.

  “You should be asleep,” he clips, and I can tell he’s pissed. The reason isn’t lost on me since I remember almost everything.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, standing in front of him wishing he would look up at me. “I fucked up.”

  When he looks up at me, I nearly weep with joy.

  “You could’ve been—”

  “I know—”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t,” I admit, feeling ashamed of myself. He’s right, though. I never stopped to think about what could happen to me. “I never planned on drinking. Everyone was being so nice—”

  “Didn’t you stop to think about why they were being so nice?” I swallow, unsure of what to say next. “They were nice because they wanted to fuck you. And if I hadn’t walked in when I did—”

  “I wouldn’t have let it get that far,” I argue, no longer feeling shame but anger. I already admitted to my mistake; there’s no reason for him to keep going.

  “Penny, you were on top of the bar, about to take your damn bra off. I had to knock some Sasquatch-looking fucker out because he said I could have my turn when he was done with you.”

  “Tiny?”

  “Yeah, that fucking asshole. Don’t know what’s fucking tiny about him, unless it’s a prelude to what’s in his pants.” I snort, because it’s too funny not to. The thought never occurred to me, because Tiny was quick to tell me how he got the name. I don’t tell Damien, though. Anything I say will only piss him off. Even if the man was only talking me up to get into my pants, it was nice getting to know someone. “I know why you thought you needed a drink.”

  “Yeah?” I sit down next to him, and he pushes the blanket I didn’t see on his lap at me.

  “It’s my fault,” he claims matter-of-factly. While I want to argue with him, I don’t because he’s wrong and I’m not ready to admit the truth to him. It’s more my fault than his. Yes, he hurt me when he treated me like a child, but he’s been honest with me from the start about what this marriage between us means. I’m the one trying to turn it into something it isn’t.

  “How’s that?” I ask, curious to hear his reasons.

  “I can’t give you what you deserve.” He reaches for my hand, grasping it like his life depends on the connection. His touch sets my body on fire, and I struggle to ignore the sensation. I don’t want him to pull away.

  “Damien—”

  “We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have gotten married. It’s only made things more complicated than they need to be—”

  “Shut up!” I shout, putting my hand to his lips
to keep the words from continuing. “We both knew what we were getting into when we decided to do this. I’m the one who tried to change it.”

  “I should have known this would happen.”

  “How were you supposed to know what I would do?”

  “Because I saved you, and that makes you think I’m a good guy.”

  “We saved each other,” I point out, remembering what he said to me last night. “I want to know you, Damien. Not the man you want me to know. The man you’re hiding from me.”

  “I hide him from everyone,” he reveals, and like switch flipping, everything makes sense. He’s let his guard down for the moment, and I plan to take advantage of it while being prepared for the worst at the same time.

  “Who’s Starla?” I ask and watch his face fall. His eyes flash bright green, and the walls he has been slowly lowering are once again strong as steel. I’m prepared for this, though, and planned for it last night when I lay in bed trying to figure out how to tear his walls down once and for all.

  He lets go of my hand and tries to move away, but I do something I’ve never done before: I fight back. I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him, trapping him in his spot beside me. Being this close to him, I see the crystal blue of his eyes and watch as they darken on me, trying to intimidate me. I place my forehead against his, refusing to back down. Too much has happened in the last few weeks for me to remain the meek girl I spent my life hating. I might have messed up this afternoon in a big way, but I refuse to do it now.

  One way or another, I’m going to get through to him.

  His lifts his hands to my thighs, but as soon as they touch them, he moves them away like he can feel the heat of my skin underneath the thick material. I smirk down at him, loving the way I affect him even as he fights to distance himself from me.

  “Damien, talk to me,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck, locking my hands together. My fingers brush against his thick hair, trying to soothe him and take advantage of how I affect him, but it doesn’t work. His body stiffens under me when I bury my face in his neck.