by Larsen, K.
“No. I don't think I will,” he whispered in my ear, and that was when I knew I was screwed. I stomped on his instep with my heel and twisted out of his grip. He stumbled marginally but I gained no real distance. He licked his lips and lunged for me. A scream ripped from my lungs as he tackled me to the ground. All the breath was knocked out of me from the weight of him landing on top of me. He flipped me to my back. I clawed at his arms and torso but he didn't seem to feel pain. Tears streamed down my face. This cannot be happening. I will not let this happen. I will not. A hand reared back before connecting with my cheekbone. The sick sound of the slap made me scream out again. I tasted blood in my mouth and swallowed thickly to keep the bile in my throat from rising up. He placed his palms on my breasts and squeezed cruelly before he leaned down to my face. I mustered all my courage and spit in his mouth just before it touched me. I was kicking my legs and twisting my hips furiously to break free but he was so large I couldn’t shake him loose. He sat up and wiped his mouth. “Wrong move, sugar,” he ground out. His black eyes shone with hate or maybe it was jealousy. Either way I needed to think fast. But I wasn’t fast enough. His fist connected with my temple, sending white hot pain radiating through my body, and everything faded to black.
I was on my stomach and being jostled strangely. I blinked a few times to get my bearings. A smack to my ass cracked through the air over his grunting. Ezra. He finished roughly and smacked my rear again. “Too bad I had to take you unconscious, sugar. Bet you’re a wild ride.” He breathed into my ear. There was pain in my head and rib cage. His words sent me over the edge and I lost my stomach all over the mattress. With a disgusted grunt he removed himself from me and walked to the bathroom. I heard the water running and I knew I should move. I should do something. Anything, but I was paralyzed. I’m dirty. I felt vulgar and tainted. A feeling rose in my chest as I listened to him whistle while he cleaned up in my bathroom, in my house. It was a feeling I had never felt before, a combination of rage, hate, and evil. I slithered to the edge of the bed and fished around the nightstand drawer for the handgun that resided there. I had only shot it twice, for practice. It was heavier than I remembered and very cold. “Maybe I’m just weaker,” I’d thought. I swung my legs over the bed and pushed up. The room rotated left, then right, and I sat back down, breathing rapidly. The sink turned off and I heard him walk out of the bathroom. “Till next time!” he shouted as he passed the open bedroom door. Something in me snapped. I shoved off the bed, gun in hand and followed him to the living room.
“Ezra,” I called, “wait.” He turned around and although I was the one with the gun he didn’t look the least bit affected by the situation. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. My rage amplified at his nonchalance. I lifted the gun with shaking hands and took aim. I stared wildly at the man in front of me, unable to focus on anything else. My heart hammered in my chest. This was a monster, the kind that haunts children’s nightmares. The monster that ruined me, that hurt me. The monster that violated me in ways I never dreamed of. I heard the sound of the gun’s safety releasing, the exhale of breath. My hands trembled uncontrollably and then, the deafening sound of a bullet ripped through the air. The gun bucked in my hand, hard. It startled me from my trance. I closed my eyes and flinched before opening them and letting everything come into focus slowly. Cane crumpled to the ground, his hand clutching at his chest. Everything moved in slow motion as red started to seep through his shirt and onto his hand. Where did he come from? Why was he hurt? Why was Ezra standing, mouth agape, staring at me?
A gut-wrenching howl ripped from me as I watched the color start to drain from Cane’s handsome face, his haunted eyes never leaving mine. Adrenaline had slaughtered my body and I didn't know what to do. What had I done? I couldn’t breathe, it felt like my chest was being squeezed with a vice grip. Ezra crouched down, wide-eyed, next to Cane. He murmured something in his ear but all I took in were Cane’s eyes staring into mine, full of hurt and confusion. The gun dropped from my hand onto the hardwood floor. It made a loud clatter as it hit. Cane’s eyes, those beautiful amber-colored eyes, fluttered closed. “NO!” I shrieked. My heart stopped beating and my breath left me altogether. This couldn’t be. I stood motionless, listening, waiting. His beautiful caramel skin looked ashen. He was gone. His eyes were still closed. My beautiful love was gone. How did this happen? My hands were clenched into fists at my sides and my fingernails were digging into my palms painfully. My entire body was shaking so much I don’t know how I was still standing. Grief flooded my chest as the coppery smell of blood and gun smoke filled my nostrils. Panic kept me rooted in my spot. This wasn’t real. What had I done to him?
I wake up struggling for air and clutching my throat, and then a loud bang draws my attention to the monitors. Bentley is outside trying to ram down the door. I stumble out of bed shouting that I’m fine and open the door just as he’s gearing up to try and shoulder it open. He flies through the doorway and luckily I side step just enough that he doesn't hit me, but he does plow into the countertop. I can’t help but laugh - I know it hurt - but as he shakes it off I can see blood seeping through his shirt at his shoulder.
“Shit, you’re really hurt,” I squawk and open the cabinet over the sink for my Band-Aid stash.
“And you aren't,” he grumbles.
“Why would you think that I was?” I ask opening a Band-Aid.
“You were screaming bloody murder, Mags, like, blood-curdling screams.” He shudders, unbuttoning his shirt enough to reveal his shoulder and I wipe away the blood with a clean rag before applying the Band-Aid.
“It was a dream. I’m fine,” I explain. He covers my hand at the Band-Aid with his large rough palm and gently squeezes.
“Did you have time to think? Cause I’d really like to get to the part where we talk about the fact that we had really amazing sex.” He grins up at me, looking so handsome.
“I didn’t. I took a nap. I’ll call you, okay?” He releases my hand as his face falls. “I work tonight, too. So, I’ll see you later?” He nods, stands and pulls me into a tight bear hug.
“Please, Mags, try to understand,” he whispers into my hair before letting me go. I want to tell him that I do understand. How could I not? I’ve lied to everyone I know here so how can I possibly hold that against him? I don’t say anything though. Our relationship started in silence and it seems apropos to feel that silence once again. Look what happened when we started talking. Shit hit the proverbial fan and now we’re in some strange place that I’m not sure how to recover from.
Bentley leaves and for the next three hours I’m alone with my thoughts while I shower and get ready for my shift. I’m not due to leave for another hour so I indulge in two fingers of bourbon before work. I open the door and plop down in the Adirondack chair to enjoy the fresh air while I drink.
I set my glass down on the arm when a box resting on the arm of the empty chair next to me catches my eye. It’s a jeweler’s ring box, small, velvet and square. My hands tremble mildly as I lift the lid and a stunning solitaire engagement ring rests inside. Bentley has lost his marbles if he thinks this is okay.
A small corner of paper peeks from the lining of the lid. I pull it out. Brown’s Jewelers. I know that name. It’s familiar to me but I can’t place it. The ring was expensive and below the astronomical price is the date. Thirteen months and four days ago. Three days before I shot him. The address on it local to Cane and my old apartment. Impossible. Could this be true? Was he going to propose? My heart seizes as I pull the ring from the box and inspect it further. It’s absolutely one that I would have picked for myself. The evening light catches the inside of the band.
Baby girl, If there's anyone I could love, it's you.
There are no words for the pain that pierces my heart as I make out the inscription. I’m stunned and mad as hell. This kind of warfare is beyond cruel and I wasn’t prepared for Ezra to be any crueler than I had experienced firsthand. My world is unravelling as I stare at the box
with the beautiful ring in it. I snap the lid closed on the box and hurl it across the yard while letting out a shrill scream. My world is imploding and I can’t see an exit strategy. In a fit of grief and rage I swipe the glass from the arm of the chair with the back of my hand, sending it shattering to the ground. I stand up and kick the chair over. I can’t take the mind games. “If you want me just take me!” I scream before storming into the trailer.
I tear every glass one by one from the cupboard and smash them against the opposite wall. When the glasses are gone I move on to the plates. I can’t stop the barrage of tears that rolls down my cheeks. Why did that day even happen? Why, after four years, did Ezra come after me that night? Why didn’t Cane yell and scream when he came in the door and saw me with his gun? I throw a plate towards the door, failing to see Bentley standing there. He ducks and the plate shatters into a million pieces just behind him. I don’t stop. I can't. I pick up another one, poised to hurl it, when Bentley rushes me, tackling me to the floor. We land with a pair of grunts and a thud.
“Get off!” I wail at him. “I’m done! DONE! I thought I could survive anything after what he did to me but this...this is beyond cruel!” Tears stream from my eyes without signs of stopping. Bentley squeezes me tightly, holding me firmly to him but it doesn’t seem to ease the tornado of emotions ripping me apart.
“What happened?” he asks through my sobbing.
“Engagement ring,” I mumble “There was an engagement ring with the receipt on the chair waiting for me. From before I left. He had it before I...”
“Are your video feeds live and recorded?” he interrupts me while brushing a strand of hair from my face. Something sparks in me at his question.
“Recorded.” I elbow him off and jump up, hauling ass to the bedroom. It takes me a moment fiddling with the control on the panel below the monitors before I remember how to rewind but when I do I feel an inkling of hope.
“Stop. There!” Bentley barks. I do as I’m told and play back the feed. The lighting isn’t the best, since it’s dusk out, and the culprit is in jeans and black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.
“Dammit!” I cry out in frustration.
“Look at the hands, Mags. Ezra has tattoos across his hands.” I dart my eyes to the monitor and pause the video. No tattoos.
“He sent someone for me. Coward couldn't even do his own dirty work,” I grind out, irritation flaring again. I feel like I’m losing control of myself.
“Get up,” Bentley commands.
“I have to go to work.”
“I called Brock when I heard the commotion, you’re sick,” he tells me.
“Bentley you can’t do that!” I crow.
“I did. Pack a bag, we’re staying at my place tonight,” he affirms, surveying the area.
“No, it’s safer here,” I complain.
“If they decide to cause a scene and shoot the place up, sure. Otherwise, no,” he snaps.
“You’re being ridiculous. I know they’re messing with me. I’ll be fine here,” I argue.
“Pack a goddamned bag, Princess,” he repeats, losing patience with me. We stare each other down for too long in silence, neither one willing to budge. I stretch my head, rolling it side to side, feeling very drained from the emotional afternoon. Bentley heaves a sigh and approaches me.
“I’m sorry for this,” he says, and tosses me over his shoulder without warning.
“Put me down!” I shriek as he treks through the trailer to the door.
“Nope.” He exits my place with ease despite me kicking, cursing and clawing at him. Two minutes later we’re through the threshold of his place and he sets me on the couch roughly.
“I don’t care if you’re a royal bitch for the next twenty-four hours, Mags, you’re staying here until I can figure out how to keep you safe.” He strides away down the short hall and the moment he’s out of view I dart to the door. I twist the knob and yank. Nothing. Glancing at the deadbolt I notice his lock is one of those that needs a key to unlock it from the inside as well as the outside. I growl with frustration.
“Looking for this?” he replies smartly. I turn to him holding a key out. Defeated. That’s the only thing I feel. I stomp past him and plant my rear on the couch, refusing to look at him.
Chapter 15
“Seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do.”- Lisa Kleypas
“Yes I have eyes on the subject.” “No, no sign of anyone.” “Yes, sir.” Bentley’s side of the conversation makes me want to vomit. Subject. That’s all I am. A pawn. How could I have ever been so naive to trust him? Everybody wants something. Nothing is free, not even friendships. I cross my arms around my midsection and block out the day’s events best I can. Before it was just me against one, but now I get the feeling that it’s two against me. My entire objective has been tossed in the air. I now need to escape Bentley and find Ezra. I need a new plan. One that keeps new enemies closer than even my mirror gets to me. It’s time to set the whole town on fire. I still have an advantage, one I never thought I’d have before last night. Me. My body. Bentley’s still a man. I’ve jumped over the hurdle of contact. I can use me against him. I live a lie and he thinks it’s done now that he’s outed himself to me. But my lie’s not quite done. All eyes on me everywhere I’ve gone for over a year yet no one gets close until now, because I let them. How stupid. I am not the meek girl I was. I’m more prepared for this than I’m giving myself credit for. It’s time to take control regardless of the collateral damage that may come.
I shift off the bed and stare long and hard at myself in the mirror over Bentley’s dresser. I smooth my hair with my fingers and wipe the black from under my eyes. I pull my tank off and adjust my breasts in their cups so they look just right. Bentley’s iPod sits in the speaker dock. I scroll through his playlist up until I find something I can work with. I push play and turn up the volume, loud. Closer filters through the speakers. I close my eyes and let myself hear nothing but the music. I move, swinging my hips, arms above my head, hair hanging lushly down my back. I feel it. I feel power. I don’t hear Bentley arrive, with the volume of the music being as it is, but I feel his stare. I rotate my hips in a circle left, pausing and then rotating right. I dance for me, but I know the show doesn't hurt the eyes. I spin around slowly moving to the beat and open my eyes. Bentley’s gaze is ferocious with desire, his pants already showing his bulge. I smirk coyly at him and wiggle my shorts down my thighs until I can step out of them. I dare him with my eyes to approach, and as if he’s a well-trained puppy he comes right over. His hands sear my hips as they grab me. I push into him firmly and slowly make circular motions. One hand wraps around his neck, the other hangs back behind me as I dance against him.
He moves one hand slowly up my back, under my hair, to the nape of my neck and threads his fingers in the silky strands. He pulls my face up to his and pummels me with a kiss. His eyes are glassy with desire. I did that. It’s dangerous and wild and I like it. This is my power; he thinks he’s in control but he’s not. I push away from him and slide my thumbs in the band of my panties, sliding them left then right before gripping them and slowly dragging them down my legs. He starts towards me but I stop him with a palm flat against his chest.
“Not yet,” I breathe. His eyes are stormy and clouded and it turns me on. Chet Faker begins his croony take on No Diggity and I realize I couldn't have picked a better song to follow the last. I reach one hand behind me and unclasp my bra, sending my breasts spilling out. I turn my back to him and crawl, on hands and knees, across his bed before lying down and crooking a finger at him. In seconds he’s naked as the day he was born, lean muscles twitching wherever I touch him. I let him explore my body hungrily with kisses and nips before pushing him from me and taking over. I let my tongue trail from his neck to the sweet spot where his hip meets his thigh and back up. I drag my nails across his chest and let my hair tickle his sides until he’s fidgeting restlessly under me. Reaching between
us, I glare directly into his eyes and grip his cock. Without fanfare I position myself and guide him in. I ride him slowly, rolling my hips and letting my breasts brush against his chest while I keep his hands pinned under mine on either side of his head. My hair cascades around our faces, keeping us locked in an erotic cave of sorts. He never breaks eye contact as I grind and move on him. I feel it building inside of me. This is different than the rest. I’m different. I move faster and move my hands to his shoulders to brace myself better. His palms spread on my backside and push to keep me closer to him. I hook my feet under his knees and rollover, letting him do the work on top. He furiously pumps into me. I need more. “Faster,” I pant at him. He grins a crooked grin and pounds into me. His face drops to the crook of my neck and he bites lightly. It’s all I need to jump over the edge. I come fast and hard and he follows right behind me. He rolls off to the side and splays a hand on my stomach, spent.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Not enough,” I counter.
“What?”
“More, Bentley,” I command. My heart beats double time and just as I knew he would, he complies and buries his face between my legs to start round two. It’s now that I realize no one can be saved. This game is going to end badly for everyone, and I’m okay with that.
Three hours later he is fast asleep, sufficiently spent from my hearty appetite. I reach down to the floor and grab my shorts and tank. Throwing them on quickly, I jam a hand into his jeans pockets until I find the key. I slip my feet into his slippers he has lying by the couch and exit the trailer. It’s chilly in the crisp early dawn air as I hurry toward home. A shiver rips through my body and my skin prickles. I stop moving and look up from my feet. I thought my heart was the pound of flesh the devil took from me when I pulled the trigger but this...this is more. Now it seems as though he’s come for my soul. He stands three feet away and sure as the sun is rising in the sky, Cane Ash is alive. I was free before, but all freedom is an illusion. If my heart could stop beating without sending me six feet under it would have stopped at this moment.