Disorderly

by Grace, Hazel

  I shrug, frankly feel dumb. “Maybe. Now I feel like I’m being needy.”

  Paige shakes her head. “Not at all. I’d be pissed if John did the same thing. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Sit around and wait around for his call?” Paige flips her long hair. “Fuck that.”

  Buzz.

  “He sent me a text today.”

  “For the first time?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to him?”

  “About a week now.”

  “Then he waits a week to get a response,” Paige alludes. “You’re busy.”

  I grin weakly. “Exactly, eating pizza and watching TV.”

  “Shit, that takes concentration girl. I take it Noah isn’t working out?”

  “I think we have a silent understanding that we don’t have a romantic interest in each other. The only thing we’ve done is hold hands.”

  She shook her head. “That’s a damn shame.”

  “And Wyatt ruined it.”

  Paige raised a brow. “Really?”

  “God, I think so.”

  “Interesting.”

  “And I feel bad saying it.”

  Paige scoffs. “Don’t. You think men feel bad?” She forces a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  Buzz.

  “I think he is texting me. Or Noah.”

  “Look.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

  “I’m involved and curious. You don’t have to reply.” Squeezing the phone in my hand, I gulp in a breath, hitting the button to turn my screen on.

  Noah: How do you think this is going to end?

  I release the air in my lungs, riding between disappointment and relief. “It’s Noah.”

  “Good.” I give Paige a questioning look. “Because the fun part will be watching how long it’ll take for good ‘ole Wyatt to break.”

  ___

  It took three days for Wyatt to show up at my doorstep, looking pissed beyond all reprieve. His grease-stained fingertips clasp to my apartment door as he glowers at me for an answer to his question. That question being the universal one that I’ve had for him: Where have you been? Watching him lividly stand in front of me made me calmer.

  “I’m waiting,” Wyatt snaps, leaning his muscular body along my door frame. He keeps his hand on my door to keep me from possibly slamming it in his face. His beard is shorter, trimmed along his jawline, bringing me to his forest green eyes. The cutoff gray shirt he’s wearing displays more tattoos that I’ve never gotten to look at before because we were too busy doing other things. They’re thick black lines twisted together in a unique design that reaches his neck.

  “Eyes up here,” Wyatt blurts between my inner thoughts. My gaze snaps up to him, his furrowed brows a little laxer now.

  “I was busy with the bakery,” I reply. “I have that wedding this weekend.”

  “And you want to tell me you haven’t been on your phone in the last several days?” His jaw is clenched, it’s damn sexy, and I shouldn’t be reveling in this, but I am. I’m soaking in the irritation that I’ve been experiencing radiate off him.

  I wrap my arms around myself. “Pretty much.”

  “You don’t go on any social media?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t play any of those stupid ass games?”

  “Nope.”

  “You don’t take selfies?”

  “Never.”

  “You haven’t talked to Noah?” I go poker face, leaving an irky silence between us. “So, you have been ignoring me.”

  “As Justin Timberlake says ‘what goes around comes back around’,” I profess. Wyatt taps his fingers once on the door and pushes off the frame.

  “You’re fucking cute, you know that?” I’d take it as a compliment if his voice wasn’t so full of contempt.

  “It’s been said to me before.”

  He scoffs. “Yeah, no shit.” He shifts his weight to one leg. “Listen, I’ve been busy with some family shit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Something came up. I didn’t want to snap at you or anything.”

  “Fair enough.” He lets out a harsh and tugs on his earlobe, giving me my opportunity to start closing the door. “Thanks for stopping by.” His foot plants into my carpet, keeping it from slamming on him.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” He quirks a brow, boring at me in admiration or shock, I’m not sure which.

  “Got things to do, Wyatt.” He takes a step further into my apartment, towering over my five-foot-five frame. I can feel his presence touch me everywhere, making me want to close my eyes just to soak it all in like the sun’s rays.

  “I got a thing to do too, Rora,” he rumbles in that voice I miss. The one that sends every hair on my body on end and warms my body. His calloused hand finds my smooth skin, and the contrast makes me fight back a gasp. I hate the power he has over me, the weak at the knees, the do-whatever-you-want-to-me kinda power.

  “I missed you,” he says, running his fingers along my skin. “Did you miss me?” I can feel the familiar invisible tug again, the one that pulls me in, engulfs me and spits me out. Which presents the same conclusion, the merry-go-round and repetitiveness of my feeling like a complete idiot.

  “I’m not going to fuck you,” I blurt, shocking myself and tugging out of his grasp.

  Wyatt’s mouth twists in a devilish smile. “No?”

  I shake my head, chastising myself inwardly. “No.”

  “Shame,” he rasps, inching closer. “Because I’ve been craving to taste that pussy for fucking days now.” My jaw starts to go lax as I squeeze the skin on my arms to stay grounded. He’s cheating by telling me what I want to hear.

  He went MI-fucking-A for days, Nova.

  “Sucks to be you,” I deadpan.

  “Currently yes, but I haven’t charmed you yet.”

  I choke back a laugh. “Charm? Wyatt, you have no charm. You just have that manipulative way about you to get what you want when you want it.”

  “Your pussy still isn’t in my mouth yet so must not be an expert at it,” he replies, extending his arms. “How long are you going to blue ball me for?”

  “Probably for the rest of my life,” I quip. “We’re not dating, I don’t even think I’d call us fuck buddies either. We fucked twice, let’s just leave it at that.”

  Wyatt crosses his arms. “Is that what you want?”

  No. I think I want more, but you’re currently unavailable.

  “I want to be left alone.” Wyatt rubs his beard, studying me, as I compel myself to stay planted where I am and stay strong. But the longer he stares at me, the more I can feel my body becoming more exhausted. He’s like a damn tornado sucking up everything around him, leaving havoc in his wake.

  “What if I can’t leave you alone?” he utters. “Because you’ve fucked up more than I can say.” My mind starts to race at what he means but, if I ask, he’ll stay longer. And I need my space back again.

  “I really don’t care,” I vouch. “You’ll fix it. Go call up Mia, I’m sure she’ll be readily available.”

  “Fuck Mia. I’m not done with you yet.”

  “It’s not your decision to make. I’m selecting what works best for me. And this,” I motion my index finger between us. “Doesn’t work for me anymore.”

  “Didn’t work for me either but, damn, if I don’t want to try.”

  I close my eyes shut and exhale. “Just go.”

  “I’m not begging you again, Rora,” Wyatt asserts. “Just be sure that when you do make that vital decision, that you know I’m gone.” I bit the inside of my lips to keep the building up tears behind my eyes out of this conversation. I won’t be the weak one. I can’t think that this was just me and all his words are full of lies to get his dick wet. For all I know, he goes out of town to see another girl, or better yet, a girlfriend.

  “Goodbye, Wyatt.”

  In my hands is the evidence I nee
d to move forward with our plan. The plan to kidnap Victoria Yunis, the Queen of the South’s daughter, and obtain Lev and I’s revenge. A paycheck made out to Victoria validates that they are still on speaking terms and that there are other things at play here. Possibly Victoria running an underground operation for her mother at the club we were at. The possibilities are endless but, nonetheless, I’ll get those answers, when we get our hands on this chick.

  At least one of the things I’ve been planning will go right, God fucking willing. It’s about time he plays on our side and gives us a damn break because, lately, I feel like we’re in this alone with no mercy or empathy on the loss of our younger sister. And I haven’t gotten an ounce of sympathy nor kindness from Rora either.

  After she practically kicked me out of her apartment, I’m feeling like a dumbass. Yeah, I said it, don’t want to, but it is what it is. When we fixed Beast up in New York, the rest of the way home my head was full of thoughts about her. The simple fact that I couldn’t have her and accomplish my goals as well ate at me. Seeing her date someone else or, screw that, finding out that she was fucking someone else boiled my blood. That woman belonged to me, selfish or not, I’m taking what I want because I never got it before.

  With no answered text messages and countless days staring at my phone like a love-sick puppy, my ass landed at her doorstep. And when she opened the door, I was enraged and hard as fuck all at the same time. The way her chocolate brown hair cascaded over her shirt made me want to rip the material in half. Her smirk, her graphite eyes, the defiant tone in her voice, I want to possess every inch of her, and I’m fucking tired of fighting it. I’ll take my war to New York before they make it here and keep her safe, then move on with my life.

  “Hey Wy,” Beast hollers from the stairwell of the garage. Seconds later, he opens the door to my floor of the loft and walks in. “I have something for you.”

  I don’t turn around to look at him, just keep fiddling around with the car part to my Camaro. “Yeah?”

  “It’s about the night that Isla was murdered.” I freeze in place, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. I swallow as I start to feel light-headed but turn on my heel anyways. Beast is frowning, setting me more uneasy. Adding more to my already troubled state of mine.

  “What is it?” I force out. Beast closes the door to my floor of the loft and walks toward my kitchen.

  “I ordered the security tapes for the other buildings around Isla’s apartment. Two of them were broken and, with this being a hick town, I finally got the only working one. It’s at another angle than the one I showed you and Lev.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his front pocket of his faded jeans and hands it to me. “Does this look like Victoria?”

  Unfolding the paper with hurried hands, the blurred image doesn’t paint a perfect picture. But from what I can make out, it’s a slim brunette standing in front of Isla’s building. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen what she looks like.”

  “Does Lev?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just got the address, she pretty much just works in the basement of that club.”

  Beast shifts his weight. “If this is her, she may be involved with your sister’s murder. And this is going to change things.” I peer up from the picture to look at my friend. “Lev is going to be set on wanting her dead.”

  I’m beside myself, so much so that I can’t contain the feelings that I have right now. I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams. Meghan’s wedding cake went off without a hitch to where I have four potential clients lined up for business. They’re out of towners from her wedding, but they’re clients, probable business outside this small town to increase our sales and marketing. I felt a glint of hope that I’d be able to get Paige and I settled financially and be able to take care of her like she has me all these years.

  After we dropped off the cake, thanks to Noah again, Paige and I went back to the bakery to clean up. We’ve been busting our ass for a week straight on the cake, spending late hours at the bakery, and we’re past exhausted. Well, I am, Paige has a date with John tonight, so she ran off to be with him.

  As soon as I get home, I jump in the shower, dawn my sweats and a cropped shirt, and hit the couch with a book. I haven’t even cracked my book open when my phone goes off. Scooping it up, I read a text from Paige.

  Paige: Text me in an hour.

  Me: Okay…

  Paige: John’s ex-wife showed up at the restaurant we’re at and I swear to God if she walks by our table one more time…

  Me: Breathe. She’s doing it on purpose.

  Paige: I know she is, which is even more fucking irritating.

  Me: Have my bail money ready?

  Paige: lol – you know me so well.

  Me: I’ll be on standby.

  Paige: Love you.

  Me: Love you!

  Opening my book, I relax into my pages and read. My mind submerges into the plot when a knock on my door a while later makes me freeze. Gathering up the ounce of courage I have, I inch toward my door. Through my peep hole, I peer through hole, but the hallway is completely empty. My heart hammers into my chest as fear starts to trickle down my spine. I take a few steps backward, needing my blade that I carry around with me that is now in my bedroom.

  Another knock, harder this time, as I focus on taking steady breaths. I turn around and scurry through my kitchen, trying not to make a sound to give away that I’m here. Clearing the door frame of my room, I stride for my dresser where I placed my small weapon. Not there.

  Where the fuck did I put it?

  Glancing over to my night stand, just my lamp and alarm clock sit there. Entering my small bathroom, I find it on the sink counter and halt. The tiles of my kitchen whine in protest of being stepped on, and I stop breathing altogether. Clicking off my bathroom light, I lean against the wall with my knife clenched in my hands. I fight to remember if I locked the door, and for the life of me, I swear that I did. I always do, it’s just normal.

  The sound of footsteps closes in on my bedroom, and I close the bathroom door slightly to hide myself behind it. Someone uninvited is here, in my space, and there is only one person I can think of that would pull something like this. And I’m sure he didn’t come alone.

  This is life or death.

  The moment that is going to define everything in the next two seconds. And I choose life when a sound near the door radiates so loudly in my head that I smash the door into the body of my intruder and thud straight into his body, knocking him back a few steps. Everything is a slow-motioned blur as I make my way out of my bedroom. The kitchen island, my living room, I feel as though I’m running through quicksand and my legs aren’t moving as fast as they should. I don’t know if it’s the fear or dread that is bagging them down, but I can’t reach my door fast enough.

  My shirt is jerked from behind, and I know what comes next, I’ve lived it so many times before. My body will clash to the front of his, he’ll wrap his lanky arms around my waist, and he’ll press his face along my neck and tell me how I’ve been such a bad girl. The remembrance of it all makes me nauseous, but I shove through, I have to.

  My back crashes against another chest and, before his arm can enclose around me, I whip on my heels and swing. My fist connects with a cheek, and I tumble back to gain some distance. I hear a curse as I’m already whirling back around for the door, gasping for air that won’t enter my lungs.

  I’m not even a stride in when I’m whipped violently around again, throwing off my footing. A shoulder hits my side and heaves me in the air on top of a shoulder and I kick. A grunt fills the air as I clasp on to his body to hold myself steady, adrenaline ripping through my body. I keep kicking as his hands dig into my thighs as I place blow after blow until I’m dropped to the floor.

  Hands find my upper arms to hold me steady as an angry voice lashes through the air. “I didn’t know I’d be beaten to death just to see you again.” My mind registers it, my fear replaced with pure rage as my vision focuses in o
n the man in front of me.

  Camouflage shirt under a leather jacket with black jeans and the smell of tequila evading my reach as my breathing tries to even out. Wyatt pants in front of me, his eyes glazed over as he speculates.

  “What in the hell are you doing sneaking into my apartment?” I snap, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face.

  “I have a key,” he deadpans, as though it’s perfectly normal to have it.

  “Why? And who the fuck gave it to you?”

  Wyatt kneads his shoulder. “I gave it to myself.”

  I raise a brow. “For what reason? So you walk into my place whenever you felt like it? Until you start paying the fucking rent, you don’t get to do that.” I brush pass him, kicking my knife that I must have dropped when he swung me around. Bending over to pick it up, Wyatt brushes my back with his fingers, sending electric shockwaves through my body.

  I quickly straighten, stumble back. “Don’t touch me. You scared the shit out of me. After what happened with Jerry, you want to invade my space too? The fuck is wrong with—”

  “I’m sorry,” he cuts in. “I didn’t…shit. I didn’t think of that.”

  “You didn’t think period,” I rail, walking over to the kitchen. My throat is dry, and I need something to settle my nerves. Opening my bare fridge, I pull out a bottle of water, closing the door to reveal Wyatt standing behind it.

  “I brought you some of those of nasty just chili fries that you like.”

  I’m not going to lie; the sentiment warms me a little, but I’m still livid.

  “Thanks, but you’re not getting a tip,” I scoff, twisting the cap on my water and chugging some of it down. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I raise a brow. “You can leave now.”

  “Can’t,” he deadpans.

  I let out a loud exhale. “Why?”

  “Too drunk to drive.”

  “Then how did you get here?”

  Wyatt rubs his chin. “I may or may not have drank half a fifth of tequila in my truck outside your apartment.” The thought of him outside my place, for God knows how long, sets me in a fog of disbelief. I’ve been doing decent, accepting the fact that this wasn’t what I needed, with the help of gallons of ice cream. Thankfully with the demanding work load of Meghan’s wedding, I haven’t had much time to let it sink totally in.