Worth It

by Linda Kage

  She’d accused me of straight-up intentional murder. From her behavior at the end of the conversation, I kind of didn’t think she really believed her own claim—she’d only been trying to egg me on, force me to tell my side of the story. But she’d still said it, and that flayed me.

  Sixteen-year-old City never would’ve done that to me. Twenty-two-year-old Felicity…she was different. I was reminded of that fact every time I opened the medicine cabinet and saw her birth control sitting next to my razor, every time she turned on the coffeemaker, every time she smiled and joked with the guys at Forbidden, every time she wore damn practical shoes to work. She’d grown up and moved on without me, and the girl I’d fallen so desperately in love with had changed.

  I couldn’t stop caring for her, though, not over a few discrepancies. She was still a bright, caring beauty who took my breath away every time I saw her. And that’s why it’d hurt so much to listen to her call me a killer, because I gave her the power to hurt me.

  As I approached our apartment late in the afternoon, all kinds of trepidation filled me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I had to go inside. It was Thursday, and I needed to get to work for ladies’ night.

  A breath rushed from my lungs when I found the front room empty. Muffled music came from her room, telling me we were back to avoiding each other. Hurrying into my cave, I shrugged off my shirt and tugged a work shirt from the pile of clean clothes I had folded in a basket on the floor. I’d showered at the gym, so I didn’t need to worry about stopping by the bathroom, but I hadn’t eaten most of the day. Maybe I could swing by somewhere so I wouldn’t have go to into the kitchen, except I didn’t have the money. I was giving every extra cent I made back to Pick, despite the number of times he rolled his eyes and told me not to worry about it.

  Fuck it, I could whip together a quick sandwich and be out of here in thirty seconds. But when I turned to leave my room, I noticed the plate on my bed with a sandwich sitting on it, next to an apple...with a folded piece of paper tucked underneath.

  Memories assailed me.

  With a shaking hand, I reached out and plucked up the note. I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes, but she’d been merciful and written only four words in block print that I could more easily read.

  I’m sorry I pushed.

  I collapsed onto the edge of the bed and buried my face into my hands. My eyes burned and my throat closed over.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, rocking myself. I bent forward and rested my elbows on my knees as I concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, using a breathing technique my boxing trainer had taught me earlier this week. I was meant to use it in the ring, but it worked now too.

  I still felt shredded raw when I finally pulled myself together enough to reach for the sandwich, but I lost it all over again as soon as I sank my teeth through the bread and tasted peanut butter and jelly.

  She’d remembered.

  I wanted to go to her so bad I ached. I needed to feel her arms around me and bury my face in her hair. God, I could almost smell her shampoo just thinking about her.

  But I needed to stay away. I hadn’t moved in with her to get back together. After what Pick told me, however, there was no way I was letting her live anywhere alone. Still. Getting involved with her again would be disastrous. I was beginning to control my anger somewhat but not enough for my peace of mind, not where her safety was concerned.

  And even if I did get a handle on it, I’d still never be enough for her. I knew my City. She needed someone she could be completely open with, and someone who could be open with her. Those were the kinds of connections that made her bloom, and they were something I’d never again be able to provide. There was too much ugliness in me now. I could never bring that kind of ugly into her life.

  I wasn’t able to finish the sandwich. I kind of wanted to preserve it.

  When I left my room, I paused outside her door. I even lifted my hand to knock. But my knuckles hovered in front of the wood about ten seconds before I dropped them, and I hurried out of the apartment.

  At the bar, Asher and Noel were arguing over who would have to wait tables.

  “Man, you always work the bar. Just give it to me tonight.”

  Noel only snickered. “Stop being a pussy, Hart. So a horde of insane women want your body. Shouldn’t you be eating that shit up?”

  Asher scowled. “You’re an ass.” He promptly turned to Mason. “Lowe, man—”

  “No way. I gave up the bar for Parker last week. Not going to do it again.”

  “Jesus, you guys suck, you know that?”

  “Oh, quit your bawling, Vagina Boy.” Ten tossed an apron in Asher’s face. “A couple handsy chicks grabbing your junk aren’t going to kill you.”

  “You suck too,” Asher muttered, even as he jerked his waist apron into place. “You’re going to be stuck waiting tables whether you like it or not,” he grumbled to me, probably hoping to put me into just as bad of a mood as he was in.

  But I just shrugged. Waiting tables actually didn’t bother me. I’d noticed last week that those guys made more in tips than working the bar, and that’s what I needed. I put on my apron and helped Asher and Ten prepare the customer area for business.

  When Harper, the doorman, started letting people in, I concentrated on doing a good job. About half an hour into the shift, I stopped by the bar to put in an order for a table full of middle-aged men. Noel came over to me and muttered a curse under his breath.

  “Shit, I should’ve let Hart have the bar. He really is getting mobbed.”

  I glanced over, but all I saw was a swarm of women... in Incubus shirts. Harper had deserted the entrance and was trying to shove his way through to help, but he wasn’t making much progress.

  Setting my tray on the countertop, I waded through the people, booming, “MOVE!” and probably scaring the shit out of about twenty women. “Get away from him. Now.”

  Females scattered like flies. I grabbed a dazed Asher by the upper arm and physically escorted him to the bar.

  “Man, I love you so hard right now,” he told me, clinging as close to my side as possible without touching me.

  When I glanced at him, he flushed and lifted his hands. “I mean, not that way. I still dig chicks, just... maybe not an entire room full of them at once.”

  He looked ridiculous with his shirt torn, hair mussed, about five shades of lipstick peppered across his face and mouth, and damn, was that a hickey on his neck?

  I felt sorry for him. He’d just been trying to find one special girl; I could relate to that. This wasn’t how he should be repaid.

  “I guess you owe me one,” was all I said.

  He grinned. “Or more like twenty.”

  I shook my head and got him the rest of the way to the bar, where Noel was already moving out from behind the counter.

  “Okay, Hart. You were right; I was wrong. Give me your apron; I’ll wait tables for the rest of the night.”

  Hart must’ve still been too shaken to say any told-you-so’s. He merely untied his apron, handed it over and jumped behind the bar.

  The rest of the shift was uneventful. While we were cleaning, Mason approached, though.

  He looked nervous, which made me stop sweeping to give him my full attention.

  “So, uh...” He wiped a hand over his face and made eye contact only to look away again. “My girlfriend, uh, I mean, fiancée—Reese. Reese would like...she wants to meet you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

  I swear he turned a little green. His gaze darted to me only to flash away again. “Well...” he said slowly. “I think she’d really rather explain that to you herself.”

  I began to shake my head. This was just too eerie—his behavior, the strangeness of his request, everything. What the hell wasn’t he telling me?

  “She just wants to thank you,” he said, finally turning his full gaze on me.

  But I shook my head harder. “For what?”

  “Just..
.” He gritted his teeth, beginning to look desperate. “Sunday afternoon, come to our place. Bring Felicity if you want. Hell, we’ll drag Pick and his family over and make a party of it, have some lunch and—”

  “Did you say party?” Ten popped over, interrupting us.

  Mason froze, his eyes widening with horror until he shook his head and muttered, “No.”

  Ten scowled. “Yeah, what the fuck ever. I heard you clear as day, ass licker. If Three, Parker, and the Ryans are going to be there, it’s a damn party. Thanks for inviting us. Yo, Gamble. Hart. Lunch at Lowe’s this Sunday.”

  “Shit,” Mason ground out as Ten wandered off. He glanced at me, scowling. “I think she wanted her first meeting with you and the story she has to tell to be a bit more private than that.”

  I sighed. “I’m not going to like this story, am I?”

  He shrugged and sent me a sympathetic glance. “Probably not.”

  That’s what I’d been afraid of. I decided then and there, I wasn’t going to his “party” on Sunday.

  I went home that night, dismissing the entire invitation. I’d learned enough distressing things over the years; I didn’t need to discover more.

  As I let myself into the quiet apartment, where Felicity had left on a single light in the kitchen, probably to help me see my way through, I pressed my back to the door and inhaled deeply. This place was already beginning to smell like her.

  I drew in deep drudges, telling myself it would be best if I moved out and got as far away from her as possible, though all the while I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. From the moment I’d learned she worked at Forbidden, a part of me had always known I’d stick around. Six years ago, my life mission had been to be wherever she was, and my heart was still stuck on that goal.

  Being this close to her was too addictive for me to leave.

  I just had to figure out how to keep her at arm’s length and safe from me while I stayed so close.

  And seconds after I told myself that, I stopped at her bedroom door before creeping it open to make sure she was okay. When I saw her sleeping deeply, the covers pulled up and tucked securely under her armpits with her cheek resting on her hands, I exhaled in relief.

  Quietly, I shut the door and carried on to my room. After stripping to my boxers, I sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the half-eaten sandwich I’d left earlier. My stomach growled.

  As much as I wanted to keep it for sentimental value, it’d probably insult her if I didn’t finish it, and the thought and care behind it would go to waste if I let it go bad. Besides, I was starving. So I downed the rest of the peanut butter and jelly.

  Depression swamped me as I swallowed the last of the gift, though. I still wanted something of hers I could keep with me always, a memento to carry me through after she was separated from me again.

  Just before I dropped off for the night, I wondered how creepy it would be for me to steal something from her, maybe something she’d just thrown out and didn’t want anymore, anything I could make my keepsake.

  Yeah, that was probably full-blown cray-cray. Probably shouldn’t do that.

  I drifted off, imagining what I’d take anyway. Something with her scent, something I’d seen her use to help me bring up her face later on, after she was gone again.

  Articles of clothing and some of her hairpins were floating through my head when my dream transformed to fuzzy gruesome images. Hands gripping my hair and pulling, shoving me face-first into a concrete floor. Fists beating on me. Shanks gouging my flesh. Monsters ripping down my pants.

  I thrashed and shouted, fighting them off, but more just kept coming. No matter how many times I stabbed, no matter how much blood flowed, another figure leapt at me, breaking everything I was.

  But then City was there, her voice in my ear, her smell in my nostrils. I gripped cloth, feeling soft woman under it, and I burrowed close, seeking her warmth and safety.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured, stroking my scalp. “It’s just a bad dream.”

  I sank into the comfort, lax and cozy, murmuring “City,” before everything went black and I didn’t dream again for the rest of the night.

  When I woke, my face was buried between two breasts. One of my thighs was thrown over a lush hip and my bare leg tangled with more bare legs. The scent of Felicity and the warmth of her palm on the back of my head, cradling me to her chest, had my morning wood turning into something more like morning steel. My hand rested at the hem of her nightdress, and the urge to gather it up, then roll completely on top of her before plunging into her warmth was strong.

  So I jerked upright, gasping in a breath, hoping it would bring reason and sanity to my brain. She stirred as I scrambled to the opposite side of the mattress.

  After briefly opening her eyes, the blue in them extra bright this morning, and then closing them again before yawning and stretching, she mumbled, “’Morning.”

  “’Morning,” I repeated, not sure why I was being so pleasant with her. I should be pissed; she was in my bed...without my permission. But I still wanted to climb on top of her and fuck her like crazy, so yeah...I couldn’t summon even an ounce of outraged anger. Instead I said, “You’re in my bed.”

  “Yeah.” She started to sit upright too and the sheet slid down to her lap, revealing her conservative nightshirt that still didn’t hide the sway of her braless breasts underneath. When her red bedhead hair tumbled over her shoulders, I almost lost it. Swear to God, I never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her right then. And there’d been many times six years ago when she’d tempted me to the brink.

  “You had a nightmare,” she explained.

  I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have come in here. I thrash a lot when I’m dreaming. I could’ve accidentally hit you.”

  She only smiled. “But you didn’t.”

  I opened my mouth to argue that it was too risky when she added, “Eva said Julian and Skylar would crawl into bed with you every night, and you never accidentally hit either of them.”

  I clenched my teeth, silently cursing Pick’s gossipy woman. “Thus the reason I moved out of there so quickly. Just because I hadn’t hurt them yet, didn’t mean I wouldn’t eventually.”

  “Is that why you agreed to move in with me?” she asked, cocking her head thoughtfully to the side. “To protect the babies.”

  I was actually more concerned with protecting her. But if she wanted to assume that was the case, I’d let her. “Don’t ever come in here in the middle of the night again. It’s not safe for you. I’m not some ten-year-old boy dreaming about his mommy. I don’t need you to give me a lucky rabbit foot, monster repellant, or any kind of security object. I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh? Is that why you calmed down last night as soon I came into the room and touched you, why you immediately curled into me and clutched me like I was your own personal teddy bear? Is that why you whispered my name before falling back into a deep sleep? Because you don’t need me? Because you can take care of yourself?”

  Gritting my teeth, I clutched my head, not sure how to handle this woman. I kept pushing her away at every turn. Why wasn’t she getting the hint? “I...am...dangerous now. Christ, woman. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your distance?”

  “Probably as many times as it’ll take for me to convince you I’m not afraid. I know you’ll never hurt me.”

  “How the hell could you know that?” I threw my hands in the air, incredulous. “I don’t even know that. There’s a violence inside me that isn’t getting better.” Actually, since I’d started up at the gym, it had improved. A lot. But not nearly enough time had passed to safely say I was cured. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, or what it’s turned me into. So can you just believe me when I say I’m not safe?”

  “Or…maybe if you could, I don’t know, tell me what you’ve been through, then I could understand.”

  No way in hell was I ever talking about that. Glaring at her, I growled. “I thought you said you weren’t going to pu
sh anymore.”

  “Crap.” She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forgot.” With a relinquishing sigh, she began to climb off the bed. “I’ll leave.”

  I hated to see her go, but this was what was best, so I bit my tongue and let her walk.

  When she paused at the door and turned back, hope flared inside me. I have no idea why I was hopeful. I didn’t want her to push, unless...somewhere deep inside of me, a small part did want her to push, to dig in and find my demons, then save me by slaying them all.

  But, no. Mostly I wanted to keep them all as far away from her as possible.

  “I just want to know one thing. I think I deserve to know one thing since, you know, you’re putting my life at risk and all by living here in such close quarters with me.”

  “What?” I uttered, pretty sure I couldn’t answer whatever she asked.

  “What did Pick say to change your mind and make you agree to share an apartment with me?”

  I hesitated. Pick hadn’t wanted her to know and unnecessarily scare her. But maybe if she was alerted to the danger, we could avoid it. And besides, I did feel as if I owed her some kind of explanation.

  “He said someone’s been leaving threats on your locker at work.”

  Her eyebrows crinkled before she shook her head. “No...” she said slowly. “I haven’t gotten a single note left on my locker.”

  “That’s because they’ve always been intercepted by other people first. And those people have always brought them to Pick.”

  Blurting out a laugh, she shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s threatened me. Pick probably only said that to get your protective instincts going. It’s bullshit, Knox.”

  “He showed me the notes. They weren’t nice. They said shit like ‘You’ll get yours, bitch,’ and ‘Don’t sleep too heavily tonight.’ One described your car and an outfit you wore. Someone is stalking you.”

  Shuddering, she hugged herself. But just as quickly she frowned. “I still call bullshit.”

  “Why do you think at least one guy always walks you to your car every night, why someone usually follows you back to the break room?”