“That’s if they ever find your fucking body.”
“You’re a good-for-nothing criminal. You abuse women. I bet you’ve even raped a few. But a murderer? I don’t think you’ve got it in you.”
Jamal shot me a look and hit in me in the arm. “Would you stop egging on the man with the gun? What is wrong with you?!”
“You should listen to the kid, Officer Langley. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Either way, your life is over, Michael. And you’re never going to get close enough to touch Cherry ever again.”
Michael let out a battle cry and jerked his gun hand. I heard the shot, but it felt like ages before I registered the pain in my arm. My arm crossed my chest, and I wrapped my hand around the tear in my baseball shirt. There was already a lot of blood.
“Shit, man!” Jamal cried.
I grabbed the kid by the collar and dragged him behind me.
“Stay put,” I growled. Inching forward, I put my hands out like I was going to surrender.
“All right, you called my bluff. I believe you’re going to use that thing.” I kept my hands out as distractions, though my arm hurt like hell. I needed to get that gun away from him before he accidentally shot Jamal. His aim was for shit; there was no way he was trying to just graze me.
“What’s your plan here, Michael? Sneak into her apartment and leave her a trail of rose petals and wait for her to come in? You going to be naked on her bed?”
“You don’t think she’ll drop her panties when she gets a look at my cock? She has before.”
I fought the urge to cringe. I didn’t want to picture her with him. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“Okay, so then what? You think she’s just going to forgive and forget? She’s scared of you.”
Michael’s arm dropped a fraction. He was getting angry again, but he didn’t want to shoot me. He wanted to hit me.
“Cherry doesn’t want your dick anymore. She wants mine.”
He dropped his gun and went to swing. The man didn’t have the balls to really shoot me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to kill me bare-handed.
I grabbed his wrist and shoved his arm back, blocking him as I took a few shots to his ribs. My arm screamed in pain as I forced my muscles to work despite the bullet wound. I pushed my foot between his ankles and hooked it around. Michael tried to grab ahold of me, but I was too quick. I gave him a hard shove, and he toppled backward over my foot. As he lost his footing, he grabbed the front of my shirt, and we went down together. Then it was all fists and kicking, rolling on the cement, both of us trying to get the upper hand.
I tried to protect my face and stomach, but Michael was a wiry son of a bitch.
His elbow came down on my face, and I saw stars. Michael rolled off of me, shoving himself to his feet. Everything hurt, but my head spinning was the worst.
I managed to get to my feet… and stopped when I saw Jamal holding the gun.
Tears streamed down his face. I realized what an idiot I’d been. I was trying to be a good role model for this kid and tell him violence and breaking the law wasn’t the way to live his life, yet here I was using brute force, showing him the exact opposite. I should’ve come here with backup. I was stupid not to even though I hadn’t had any idea of what I’d been walking in to.
Jamal’s hands shook as he trained the gun on Michael. “Give the key back,” he demanded.
Michael glanced back at me. His glower deepened. He pulled out the key and tossed it at Jamal. I expected exactly what Michael had, for Jamal to try to catch the key and lose his upper hand. But Jamal didn’t flinch. He remained with the gun trained right at Michael, the key sitting by his foot.
“Get on the floor, Michael. You’re under arrest.”
“Like hell.” Michael took off just like V.C.
Jamal kept the gun pointed at him but didn’t pull the trigger. I was glad; the kid was fucked up enough without adding “shot someone” to his list of traumas.
I took off after Michael. I couldn’t let him get away with this bullshit. He was as hurt as I was. I caught up to him quickly. It paid to run five miles almost every day, and not just to keep off the donut calories. It was pretty obvious the only running Michael did was running his mouth. I grabbed him, and we both tumbled into the street this time. The cement outside seemed far less forgiving than in the warehouse.
Michael rolled over me and tried to scramble away.
“Just stop!” I snarled.
“Fuck you!” He kicked me in the face, and that was lights out.
9
Cherry
“Then, he threw me in front of a car. Your fucking boyfriend tried to get me killed.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Where did you leave him, Michael?”
“That’s all you have to say to me? He tried to kill me, Cherry!”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I can’t believe a word you say. I may not know Damon very well, I but don’t for a moment believe any ounce of your story.”
“You think I ended up here because I wanted to be here? He beat me bloody. I went to the police to press charges against him, but due to the injuries he inflicted, I passed out. Your boyfriend is dirty. He was trying to buy some drugs or something off those kids. And when I busted him, he hurt me.”
I threw my hands up in the air. Where was Damon? He still hadn’t answered any of my texts or phone calls. I was starting to worry Michael had left him for dead somewhere.
I clutched my chest and tried to breathe. The air stalled in my lungs like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. I hurried to the hall, ignoring Michael’s pleas that I take him back. I needed to see Damon again. I needed to know he was all right. What if some of Michael’s story was true? At least the parts where he hurt Damon?
“Miss, are you all right?”
My vision swam as a nurse approached me, her face full of concern.
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
I gripped her scrubs and made myself get a breath in, then another, then again. I wasn’t going to fall apart. I didn’t know what was going on. Whether I liked it or not, Damon meant something to me. I couldn’t let anything happen to him.
“Where did the police go?” I asked when I finally managed to calm down enough to speak again.
“I think they’re just down the hall.”
I charged toward the direction she pointed and found them talking to a third man. It was the black hair, the good butt in the tight jeans, and the broad shoulders I recognized instantly.
“Damon!”
He turned around, his face lighting up when he saw me, but the happiness was quickly quelled when he caught sight of my distress. When I saw his beaten in face, my hand covered my mouth.
“Oh, Damon.”
He approached me slowly. “I’m okay, Cherry.”
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe I’d questioned him for even a second. That I would trust Michael’s word over his. Damon had never done anything to prove to me he wasn’t on the level. And seeing what happened, I knew Michael was a fucking liar.
He pulled me into his arms without another word, and suddenly, I felt like I was home. That might’ve been scarier than anything else I’d dealt with.
“We need to talk about Michael.” His tone was stiff and tired.
I pulled back and looked at him. “What about him? Aside from the fact he’s making up all kinds of lies.”
Another police office came around the corner. “Langley, we’ve got a problem. Grove made a break for it.”
“Fuck.” Damon pulled back and looked down at me. “Cherry, Michael was trying to get a key to your apartment. I’ve got the copy now, but I don’t trust that he’s done messing with you.”
I blinked at him. All the words made sense, but my brain wasn’t quite putting all the pieces together.
“Why?”
“My guess is he’s still hung up on you. I think he got out of another relationship
not too long ago and decided to try to get back together with you. Something probably set him off—he found a picture, saw you in town, something—and he decided he still had a claim on you. I’m afraid he’s going to get into the mindset if he can’t have you…”
“I was never his.” I pulled out of Damon’s arms. They weren’t comforting anymore. What was it about men thinking they owned women? Damon and I were fucking, and now, he felt like it was his job to protect his territory. It wasn’t fair, but right now, it was all I had in me.
“How is Karina?” I didn’t want to talk about Michael anymore.
“She’s stable. She hasn’t woken up yet.”
That wasn’t the news I wanted to hear. I wanted her to wake up. I wanted her to be okay.
“I’m going to call a friend.”
Damon opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it and gave me a curt nod. I wondered what he wanted to say. Was he was going to make me go to his place? Or demand an officer watch my home? It probably wasn’t a bad idea, but I needed to get away from him. To get away from all the men who thought they had a right to me or my body.
I pulled out my cellphone and called Logan.
“Cherry, what’s up?”
“Logan, do you remember me telling you about Michael?”
“Your douchebag of an ex-boyfriend? I recall.”
“Apparently, he’s basically stalking me. Trying to get a key to my apartment. How would you feel about me coming to hang out with you?”
Damon stared at me, pointedly. “I’m sending a patrol car with you wherever you go,” he growled.
“I’ll have police protection.”
“I’m good with it. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Maybe a little freaked out.”
“You coming to the shop?”
I glanced at Damon. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
He was antsy. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize he was upset with me for not letting him be the man and protect me. But because of me, he was in danger. What if something had happened to him? More than the clear beating Michael gave him? There was a bandage around Damon’s upper arm, and he was going to be bruised. More bruised than the storm clean-up had left him. And that was just what I could see on his face. The rest of his body was covered, aside from where his baseball shirt was ripped, stretched across his chest like it was holding on for dear life. As if one flexed muscle and the whole thing might rip in two. No, I couldn’t get distracted by his broad chest. I had to stand firm.
I disconnected my call with Logan.
“Will you please call me if anything happens?” Damon asked quietly.
I met his gaze. “You didn’t call me to come help you. Why should I call for you to help me?”
His eyes narrowed. “I went out there because the kid I mentor texted me an address and a request for help. I had no idea Michael was there until I arrived.” He reached out but let his hand drop before he touched me. “If you’d been there, all you would’ve been was a hostage. A way for him to get away.”
“A hostage? That’s all you think of me?” My voice echoed through the hollow hallway.
“I’m a trained police officer. It’s my job. Why are you making this personal?”
“Because it is personal. You got hurt because of me. What if you’d gotten shot?”
A flicker of guilt passed over his face. If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it.
“Did you get shot?!”
“The bullet grazed me. I’m fine.”
I covered my face. This was ridiculous. How had this become my life? Storms, stalker ex-boyfriends, a guy I really liked who was bound to get himself killed—I couldn’t live this way.
I was going to apply for my spinster card and empty uterus status and call it good. All this drama was just making me crazy.
“Cherry…”
“I’m driving. If you’re going to put someone on me, they better be able to follow me pretty quickly.” I stormed past him and down the hall. I knew I wasn’t acting one hundred percent rationally, but I just didn’t know how to handle all of this. After I walked out on Michael, that was supposed to be that. I didn’t know why it kept coming back up. And now, Damon wanted to protect me from my own bad decisions. That didn’t seem fair. Shouldn’t he be with someone who doesn’t attract such trouble? Someone who wasn’t so broken? Maybe even someone like Karina?
I somehow got to my car and started it up, noting the patrol car following me all the way to Logan’s garage. It was getting late, but Logan practically lived at the garage. She even had an apartment upstairs. Whatever cop Damon roped into this could just sit outside, watching over us.
Logan was waiting for me in her office, instead of clinking and clanking under a car. That almost never happened. I must’ve worried her. She smiled when I entered and got up, immediately going to the window.
“Do you know who followed you over here?”
“No. Not really.”
“Do you suppose it’s Damon?”
I hadn’t considered that. “No. I’m sure he’s looking for Michael.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just got Michael’s version of the story where he tried to paint Damon out to be this abusive asshole. And I stood there eating it up like I haven’t been getting to know Damon the last year. He’s not abusive, but he’s still a guy. And he wants to control me. He wants to protect me.”
“Did he fight you coming over here?”
I shook my head.
“How was he trying to control you?”
I considered her words for a moment. “Maybe not control me, but he’s made it his mission to protect me.”
“That’s what loved ones do for each other, Cher.” She sighed and pulled a bottle of whiskey and a couple glasses out of her desk drawer. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I don’t want to be helpless. I want to be able to handle my own shit. I don’t want a man to have to do it for me all the time. I don’t want to be pathetic. I want to be like you.”
“Cher, if someone was stalking me, I’d be happy to have an army of men surrounding me,” Logan smiled. “It’s not like either one of us is taking Krav Maga on the weekends.”
I pointed at her. “We should do that.”
“I’m game. But you should stop being so hard on Damon because of your history with Michael. One guy doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”
“Yeah, they do. They have me in common.” Saying that out loud made me feel even worse. How did I end up here?
“Okay, they both noticed you. But you know what Michael is. You know what Damon is. Do they really sound like the same guy to you?” She poured two strong drams of the whiskey and handed one over. “When you’re with Damon, do you feel like the same woman you were with Michael?”
I downed the drink fast, shaking my head as the burning liquor hit the back of my throat.
“I should just go back to making donuts and pastries. I’m clearly not cut out for this crap.”
“Dating? No one is cut out for that crap. Why do you think I’m single? Men come in and out of this joint and spend more time patronizing me about being the little lady who fixes cars like it’s the most adorable thing they’ve ever seen. Or there are the ones who walk in, figure out I’m not the receptionist, and walk right back out.” She sipped her whiskey a little slower. “Or, if I’m really lucky, it’s fetish remarks about bending me over an engine or a hood. Face it, Cher, a lot of times, men suck.”
My lip was curled in disgust. “Please tell me you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“I can’t lie to you, friend.” She put her hand on my forearm. “I know I didn’t know you before you broke up with Michael, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well since then. You weren’t depressed after you broke up with Michael. You were a little jumpy, not really wanting to be seen. You wore a lot of big sweaters over the winter months. Since Spring happened, it’s like you
’ve come out of your shell. And listening to you talk about Damon… it’s a completely different story. You’re different when it comes to him.”
“Different how?”
Logan shrugged. “Happy?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Or maybe just more relaxed. You were excited. Every time you talked about him, your face lit up.” She reached over and poured me more whiskey. “Everyone comes with a past. I’m not saying you should be with Damon, but don’t put walls around yourself because you’re scared of making a mistake. Life is about—”
I put up my hand. “I get it. I get it. Life hands you lemons…”
“I usually prefer being handed a socket wrench or something, but yeah, you get it.”
“Enough about me and my silly drama. What’s going on here?”
Logan and I dove into chatter about her life. Much like me, she was a loner. She lived alone. She had family, but she didn’t talk about them much. I always got the feeling she’d run away from something.
As she talked about the current car she was working on, I thought about my family.
My mom and dad were so happy together. So happy until a kid interrupted their happily married life. I wasn’t what they’d planned on, and they didn’t know what to do with me. Since childhood, I haven’t been able to figure out what to do with me either. The only person in my life who ever made me feel like home was my grandmother. She taught me to bake. She gave me her talent, her passion. And when she died, she gave me her most prized possession—her bakery. Cherry Blossoms Bakery was the one place where I felt the most whole, the most me.
And Michael had tried to taint that.
But I wouldn’t let it ruin my home.
The place where Damon and I met.
A clap of thunder cracked overhead.
“Great, another storm. Just what we need,” I grumbled.
As if the universe thought we needed a great cosmic joke, the lights flickered out.
“Just great.”
For Love and Donuts Page 11