Bend ~ Molly McLain

by McLain, Molly

  That Sunday, however, the blood belonged to someone else. A woman named Susan, who my father apparently liked a lot more than he should have. Or maybe he hadn’t liked her at all, but that mattered little to the drunken, stoned version of my old man who’d stumbled into that dark, Las Vegas alley.

  I slow my truck in front of the yellow and light brown house, just like I’ve done hundreds of times over the years. The same stucco pot sits on the steps, full of bright pink and purple flowers and there are at least five sets of wind chimes hanging from the porch.

  I smile, so fucking glad that, despite the shit my dad did to her and the crime he made her witness, she was able to find some sunshine again.

  There’s not a damn thing I can do to change the outcome of that night, but I try anyway, every single time I get dressed for work. Every fucking day I wake up. The memory of her battered face on the news won’t let me stop.

  The knowledge that I myself could be just as dangerous pushes me onward. Doing all I can to be a different man. For me, my mom . . . for society.

  But I’m his flesh and blood, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about that. He flipped like a switch and so could I. Hell, I like women, vulnerable and begging beneath me. I like the power I feel when they turn themselves over to me and let me take control.

  I told myself that I followed Kinsey into the bathroom at Franco’s so I could protect her from an asshole that might not be so aware of himself. So in control of his desires.

  The truth is I followed her because I wanted her for myself.

  Just like I want her now.

  What she’s given me isn’t enough. I want to consume every pretty fucking part of her, so that no one else can ever have her.

  She’s made me selfish. Greedy. Hungry. Desperate.

  With each kiss and with every sweet smile, she calls to something inside of me.

  I have to walk . . . before I do something we both regret.

  “I got this, Kins. Why don’t you head home?” Jana takes a box of scented lotions out of my hands and holds them away from when I try to grab them back. “Uh uh, boss lady. You’ve spent way too much time here the past couple of weeks. Go do something fun.”

  “Like what?” My job is my life, I have the smallest circle of friends imaginable, and I can’t stop thinking about Trent. Fun probably isn’t going to happen today.

  “Get your nails done. Go have a drink at the sports bar where all the hot guys are watching the game. Hell, go visit your sexy cop friend. He looked like he could use some cheering up.”

  Ugh. “No, no, and absolutely no.” I’m not going to embarrass myself over that man. The fact that he knows my most personal weakness is humiliating enough.

  “I thought you hated him.”

  “I do.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  My eyes snap up to Jana’s. “No, I’m not. He might’ve fixed the cameras, but he’s still a jerk.”

  “Maybe, but he’s obviously not a jerk jerk. He’s more like . . . a sweet jerk.”

  “Oh, my God,” I laugh, picking up an empty box from the floor. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to go home. Take a nap, maybe. Get your head checked.”

  “I’ve worked with you for six years now.” Jana presses her lips together in a mollified smile. “I’ve seen you date lots of guys, including Ben, who was obviously wrong for you.”

  “Whoa . . .” I hold up my free hand and start to back away toward the rear of the store. “I am so not dating Trent.”

  “I didn’t say you were, but the fact that you assumed that’s what I meant says it all. You like him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind your company either, or he wouldn’t have come here today.”

  He likes my company when I’m without panties. Any other time, not so much. He’s more or less said that very thing.

  “Is this an issue because he works for your dad?”

  “God, no.” But that’s another reason why I should take Trent’s lead and let go. My dad would have a conniption if something more came of this little tryst. Heck, he’d go postal now if he knew we’d gotten involved.

  “Good, because then I’d have to remind you that what your father wants for you and what you want for yourself . . . don’t have to align. In fact, the only thing that should matter is that Sergeant Hardass makes you feel some kind of way. And he does, doesn’t he?”

  I flick another glance at Jana, and her all-knowing smile breaks me. “Damn it, Jana. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “That’s what they all say, hon.”

  “I like him way more than I thought I would and I’m pretty sure the feeling isn’t mutual.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “No!” My laugh comes out a little too loudly, giving away my schoolgirl nerves. Nerves I haven’t felt since . . . since my very first time in Franco’s bar, eight years ago.

  “Go home and bake him some cookies.”

  “What?”

  Jane nods in earnest. “Bake for him and then ask him out. The cookies will soften him up and give you the upper hand. Men . . . they can’t resist a good chocolate chip cookie and he’ll turn to butter in your hands. I promise.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m also married, so what does that tell you?” Fluttering her left hand in front of my face, she cocks her head to the side.

  I roll my eyes.

  Bake Trent Clark cookies. Pssshh. She’s out of her mind.

  I wonder if I have brown sugar at home . . .

  THE MONDAY NIGHT CROWD AT Franco’s is more raucous than usual and I’m annoyed as hell. Fucking Travis should’ve had his ass back from Reno two hours ago, but nooo. The bastard decided to make a pit stop at an auction, and now I’m stuck behind the bar, slinging beers and pouring shots for a bunch of needy pricks.

  “Yo, Trent, can I get another Coors?”

  “Hey, Serg, how about some Fireball?”

  “You’re not gonna pull me over when I leave later, are you?”

  No, motherfucker, I’m not, but I can promise one of my buddies will.

  Fucking hell, I hate this.

  “Hang in there, kid,” Bernie, an old timer who comes in every night for two shorties, flashes a toothless grin. “You’re doing all right.”

  No shit. It’s not like I haven’t worked the bar before. I used to do it all the time when my Uncle Don owned the place. I gave it up when I became a cop and my tolerance for bullshit disappeared.

  “Hey, man, can I get three bottles of Corona?” Chase, one of Tristan’s stripper friends, leans in next to Bernie.

  I’d rather serve him my fist and a knee to the balls for touching Kinsey a couple weeks back, but I lift my chin and go in search of his drinks instead.

  Damn it, only two left.

  “Pete,” I say to the big biker dude sitting next to Bernie. “Can you hold down the fort for a minute? I gotta grab some more fairy juice for the ballerina.”

  Pete grins and Bernie snorts. Chase puffs his chest and tries to act like he’s tough shit, and I dare him to come at me with some smart-ass retort. I’d gladly show him to the door and kick his ass all the way there. Unfortunately, he keeps his mouth shut.

  When I return from the back cooler, Pete’s behind the bar and there’s a woman with long dark hair in his seat. Her back is to me as she talks to Chase, and I’m annoyed all over again.

  What the hell is it with this guy and chicks? Is there a certain stripper cologne he wears that draws them in or what?

  “Hey, man, she wants a vodka cranberry, but all I can find is orange.” Pete holds up the OJ container and shrugs.

  “In the other cooler.” I nod to the unit further down the bar and duck down to unload the Corona. When I stand, Kinsey’s brown eyes blink up at me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I snap, regretting it the second she flinches. She shouldn’t be here, but there’s no need for me to be a dick about it.

  “I wanted to give you something.” Lifting a red gift
box from her lap, she slides it across the glossy wood.

  “You should’ve gone around back.” I take the box and stow it behind the bar, feeling like an even bigger ass when disappointment falls over her face.

  “The door’s locked,” she says, biting her bottom lip as her fingers curl around her little purse. “You know what? I think I’ll pass on the drink and just go.”

  Fuck.

  “Kinsey, wait.” I grab her arm as she spins toward Chase, who, in turn, gives me another death glare. “Dude, you’d better quit looking at me like that.”

  “You’re the one putting your hands on the lady, man.”

  Goddamn, I hate this guy.

  “She’s my friend,” I explain, and then to her, in a softer, less admonishing tone, “Can you please just wait?” I can’t let her go without apologizing. And not just for snapping at her.

  She eyes me for a moment, probably trying to decide if I’m worth the effort. To my relief, she nods, so I dig out my keys and pass them across the bar. “Head upstairs. Trav should be back soon.”

  Her fingers brush mine as she takes the keys and I shiver. Right there in front of the entire bar.

  “Lock the door behind you,” I say, shooting a warning glance at Chase. “I have another key.”

  She nods again and then disappears down the back hall.

  Chase grunts. “Your friend, huh? She was in here a couple weeks ago, looking to be my friend, too.”

  My hands ball into fists, but it’s one of Pete’s that sails across the bar, nailing the stripper square in the jaw. He stumbles back a few feet, holding his face and cursing like a sailor.

  Pete shakes out his hand beside me, grinning like a fool. “Better me than you, Serg.”

  Probably. “Thanks, man. Your next round is on me.”

  “Appreciate it.” The big guy winks, then points to the red box. “So, what’d your lady friend bring ya?”

  “I don’t know.” Probably some sort of “thank you” for working on her cameras, though I’m not sure I deserve it. I was pretty much a prick after I fucked her.

  “She looked disappointed that you didn’t open it.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Probably took a lot for her to come in here and give it to you with all of us roughnecks watchin’.”

  Ha. “Guess I haven’t been properly schooled in gift etiquette.” Hell, I’m not sure anyone other than family has ever given me a present.

  “What are you waiting for?” Pete nudges my arm, and I get the feeling he was one of those kids who snooped before Christmas.

  Down the bar, a patron raises an empty bottle and Pete stalks off to take care of him. Guess that’s my cue.

  Working the lid off the top of the pretty box, I pray to God there isn’t a bunch of sexy lace inside. Not that I wouldn’t like that a whole hell of lot, but I’d never live it down if one of these assholes caught a glimpse.

  The second the lid pops free, the mouth-watering aroma of something sweet hits my nostrils and I grin.

  Cookies. She baked me friggin’ cookies.

  Goddamn, I like this girl.

  “What’d ya get?” Pete’s back, leaning over my shoulder.

  “Mind your own business, bro,” I tell him, slapping the cover back on the box before I pull out my phone and text Travis . . .

  Get your ass back here. I got better shit to do.

  He gave me his keys and, more importantly, free reign of his place.

  That has to mean something.

  Right?

  God, I’m such a sap. He practically bit my head off downstairs, yet here I am, looking for the silver lining like a silly teenager. Stupid, Kinsey. Stoo-pid.

  Sighing, I take my first real glance around the tiny apartment. It’s plain and masculine, like I imagine most above-bar living quarters are, but there are little hints of Trent all around. Boots and tennis shoes lined up neatly by the door, an empty beer bottle turned upside down in the sink, a T-shirt draped over one of the kitchen chairs . . .

  I pick it up and bring it to my nose, inhaling as much of his familiar, citrusy scent as I can. Who knows what kind of mood he’ll be in when he finally gets up here, so I might as well make the most of the chance he’s given me. For all I know, it’ll be for nothing, but that’s the risk I take, I guess. Putting myself out there for a man who may or may not want to know me as well as I want to know him.

  Putting the shirt back, I make my way into the living room. The TV’s on but muted, a recap of yesterday’s preseason football games playing across the screen. On the end of the couch, there’s a pillow, a rumpled fleece blanket, and an overturned book. A sci-fi thriller, which makes me smile, because of course blood and guts would be Trent’s thing. Wild and a little out there, but with enough reality to make a person wonder.

  I take a seat on the couch and pick up the remote, mindlessly scanning channels when the door handle jiggles and then clicks, and Trent strolls in.

  “Hey,” he says, tossing his phone on the table and setting the box I gave him beside it. “Sorry to make you wait. Travis had some shit to do, so I had to cover.”

  “No worries. It’s not like I let you know I was coming.” I give him a sheepish smile, complete with a shrug. “If I’m honest, I wasn’t sure you’d even want to see me.”

  “Kinsey . . .” he begins, pushing a hand back through his hair with a frustrated huff. “We can’t keep doing this. I know I said we could, but . . . fuck.”

  “Look, I know . . .” I get to my feet and try to push my foolish smile a little wider. “I didn’t even expect that first night, so the fact that you gave me more was just . . . an added bonus.”

  He laughs softly, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Babe, don’t sell yourself short. You’re not a woman who should be fucked in a bar bathroom. The fact that I ignored that . . .” Breaking off, he casts a painful glance my way. “I wanted something I can’t have, princess. Plain and simple.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You made me cookies, Kins.” Jaw clenched, he gestures to the box on the table. “You might have a wild streak beneath that polished exterior, but there are no chinks in your finish. Not like there are mine.”

  “I am far from perfect!” And the fact that he’s using that as an excuse just pisses me off. “We all have demons, Trent. Every freaking one of us. However, some of us choose to deal with them, while others pretend they aren’t really problems at all.”

  “What?” His eyes narrow to spiteful slits.

  “What are your chinks, Trent, huh? Can you say them out loud? Own up to them like I have mine?”

  His face morphs from pinched and confused to red and angry in an instant. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “What?” I laugh, knowing damn well that I’m only taunting the lion. “You think I can’t handle it? That I’m too fucking perfect to understand?”

  He closes the distance between us in three steps and slams me against the wall between the living room and kitchen.

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he growls against my lips, nothing between us but the air we breathe. “You don’t know what I could do to you. Right fucking now, princess, I could take it all.”

  “Do it,” I whisper, his big body pressed so tightly against mine, making it hard to say more.

  He laughs and then jerks my hands above my head, pinning me in place while fire flashes in his eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You know I would. I’m just not sure you have it . . . oomph!” All the air rushes from my lungs when he thrusts his hips into mine and grinds, the hard line of his cock pressing into my stomach.

  “I could fuck you in a heartbeat, Kinsey, but I won’t. Not like you want me to.”

  No. No, no, no, no, no.

  “Things have changed between us . . .” He brushes his lips across mine and I open for him, letting him in, even as tears sting in my eyes. “I want you more than I should and it can’t be like that.�
��

  Why not? Why. The. Fuck. Not?

  “There’s shit you don’t know,” he says, skimming his mouth to my ear and then across my jaw. His tongue feels like a hot brand against my skin, and I want more it. Down my neck, between my legs . . .”Shit that could hurt you, and I care about you too much to take that chance.”

  A sob bursts past my lips and he’s right there, kissing it away.

  “There’s a reason your old man hasn’t tried to set us up, babe. He knows I’m no good for you. He knows how dangerous I am.”

  “Tell me,” I beg, finally finding my voice.

  “Ask him, Kins. I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you all the reasons you should’ve stayed away from me.”

  “I want to hear it from you,” I rasp, and his eyes flutter shut as he presses his forehead to mine. I have no idea what I’m asking, but I can feel the weight on Trent’s shoulders. I can see the pain and conflict in the lines on his face. I hear how fast his heart beats in my own ears.

  If he doesn’t deal with whatever this is, it’s going to eat him alive and, if what he says is true, it might consume me, too. Right now, I don’t care.

  Tugging my hands free, I curl them tightly around his waist and press my face into the crook of his neck.

  “Tell me,” I whisper again. “Tell me who you are.”

  I HAVEN’T TOLD ANYONE ABOUT my father. Not friends from college or the academy, not anyone from the Metro, other than Dez and Will, who’ve been friends since junior high.

  I’ve never told a woman I was involved with, though many have asked. Usually my resistance led to them finding out on their own, and then it was over, because no one wants a guy with my kind of baggage knocking on their door.

  But I need to tell Kinsey. She deserves the truth, even though I know it’s going to push her away. One way or another, she’ll realize the mistake she’s made and she’ll be gone, but if I tell her, maybe I can keep her here a little longer.

  Christ, the way she holds onto me. Like she’ll never let go and I wish that were true. She’s gotten under my skin and when I’m not thinking about all the ways I want to fuck her, I think about the shit I want to do with her. Like take her on a date. Buy her flowers and dinner, and then hold her hand. Maybe hit up a football game. Show her why she should be a Broncos fan, so we can outnumber my mom and Trav when I bring her home.