Can't Help Loving You

by Nika Rhone

  She might have, if he’d stopped using her as a punching bag for more than five minutes. But that would have made the situation even more tragic. Nobody deserved to start life with that many strikes already against them.

  “What’s a man without sons? Huh? He’s nothing! Useless whore!” He shook her again, harder, eliciting another squeal. The look in the other man’s eyes had gone feral, their darting getting faster and more frantic as his body withdrew from the meth, increasing his agitation and paranoia. Spittle flew from his lips as he raged. All signs Fernando was close to losing control, which meant Rafe was out of time.

  “Fernando, for the last time, put the knife down and step away from your wife.” Rafe let out a breath and narrowed his focus on his target. It would be a close, dangerous shot, but it was the only one he had. If Fernando tried to make good on his threat, he’d have a fraction of a second to pull the trigger. “Fernando. Drop. The. Knife.”

  “Stupid, worthless bitch. What good are you?”

  “No, please don’t!” Lupe begged through her sobs.

  It wasn’t until his gaze flicked to her to judge the shot Rafe realized she was talking to him, begging him, not her husband. Unlike her meth head spouse, she could see he wasn’t bluffing. She believed he would shoot, and even with a blade to her throat, she was still asking for Rafe to spare the worthless bastard.

  Unbelievable.

  But he had a job to do, and that was to protect Lupe, whether she wanted him to or not. He refocused his gaze on his target, which thankfully Fernando was too stupid to realize he was presenting like a gift.

  “Please, I love him.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Fernando. Last warning. Drop it.”

  Fernando bared his rotten teeth again. “Besa me el culo, puto.” Kiss my ass, bitch.

  Every instinct he had told him to take the shot. But Lupe’s pleading voice struck at his conscience, keeping him from pulling the trigger. Her asshole husband wasn’t any prize, but he was hers and she wanted to keep him. God knew he’d never understand why.

  Fate took the decision out of his hands.

  Sirens sang through the open windows, signaling the arrival of his backup. It was a welcome relief for Rafe. For Fernando, it was the last straw. With an angry roar, he pushed Lupe away. Whether by accident or intent, his knife scored her neck. Rafe caught her as she stumbled into him, hands grasping her bleeding neck, eyes wide like she was surprised the bastard had actually gone and done it.

  Cursing himself for letting sentiment make him question what his training told him to do, Rafe slung her onto the sofa and shouted to Compton, who was entering the apartment, “Call an ambulance! I’m going after the son of a bitch.”

  Fernando had taken advantage of Rafe’s distraction with his bleeding wife to haul ass into the bedroom. Rafe followed him, then out the open window onto the fire escape, cursing as the rickety structure bounced and swayed under his weight as he pounded down the narrow ladder after Fernando, who was already a floor and a half below and moving fast. The metal vibrated under his feet as he hit the third-floor landing and slung himself around to the next ladder, bouncing off the railing as he made the turn, flaking rust scoring his palms. No way was the sorry son of a bitch getting away. No fucking way.

  A quick glance showed Fernando already scurrying down the final ladder to the street. Fuck. The bastard was fast.

  Hitting the second-floor landing, the fire escape shifted like it wasn’t fully attached to the side of the building. Ignoring the danger, he slung himself around, bouncing off the railing toward the next ladder, determined to be no more than five seconds behind Fernando when his boots hit the ground. Except this time, when his weight hit the railing, the rusty metal gave way with a sickening screech.

  There was a moment of disbelief, another of fury, and then he was falling through the air toward the ground, his own scream the only sound in his ears.

  “No!” Bolting upright in the bed, Rafe had a moment of disorientation as he continued to feel the helpless sensation of free-fall.

  “Rafe? Sweetie? Are you okay?”

  The voice didn’t belong with the dream, but it was familiar.

  “Rafe? Come on, you’re scaring me.”

  Lillian.

  She shifted away from him on the bed, and fumbled on the nightstand for the lamp. “No, leave it off.” His voice was hoarse. No wonder, since his heart was halfway up his throat. Which was a good thing, because otherwise he might have puked the remnants of their very nice dinner all over the bed.

  “Okay.” Sounding uncertain, she left them in darkness. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Just a dream.”

  “Baby, that didn’t sound like just anything. I thought someone was killing you.”

  How fucking close to the truth she was.

  “Could we not…could we hold off on this? For a few minutes? Please?” Because he needed to pull himself back together again. Having Cris around to witness the nightmares was bad enough. This was so much fucking worse.

  “Okay, sure.” She moved so she was touching him and tried to urge him back down onto the bed next to her. “Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  That was both thrilling and scary as hell.

  As he tried to lie down, though, his leg spasmed, pain shooting through his thigh as the muscle locked up into a tight, angry ball. He gasped and hunched over it, curling onto his side as the agony blindsided him.

  “Rafe?” Lillian sounded a little freaked out. Not that he blamed her.

  “Cramp.” He panted through his clenched teeth. “Bad.”

  “What can I do?”

  He nearly bit his tongue holding back a groan. “Heating pad.” The bed bounced as she jumped off. It seemed like hours before she was back, every one of them filled with enough misery to make him wish for death, just to make it stop. Even when the healing warmth from the pad she wrapped around his leg started to leech into the muscle, the pain kept him curled on his side in a pitiful huddle.

  “Did you know it’s a proven fact that cursing can help ease pain?” She stroked a hand over his sweaty forehead as he huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s true. They’ve done studies and everything.”

  “So?” The word exploded on a gasp of air.

  “So, if you want to curse, go right ahead.”

  Every profanity he’d ever known rose to his lips. He swallowed every one of them back, pressing his face into the pillow, teeth clenched, refusing to give in to the temptation.

  Lillian sighed dramatically. “For God’s sake, Rafael. I’m an adult, and I have three brothers. Trust me, I’ve heard it all before.”

  Doubtful. Besides, there were a lot of lessons he’d let slide over the years, but the manners pounded into him by his mother and her wooden spoon weren’t one of them.

  “It’s getting better,” he gritted out.

  “I call bullshit on that one.” She put her hand on his back and rubbed. “I can leave the room if you want. Then you can let loose.”

  “Stay.” He should have wanted her gone, where she couldn’t witness this pitiful, puling weakness of his, but either the pain was screwing with his head, or her presence actually had some kind of calming effect on him. He groaned. “And please keep doing that.”

  She did. As her fingers pressed and stroked his skin, the pain pulsing in his thigh like a bad tooth receded. She worked at the knot that was holding his shoulders hostage, then moved to his neck, and finally down his back to the dip of his spine. By the time her hands were gliding over his ass, the pain in his leg was all but forgotten.

  “Roll onto your back.”

  Rafe obeyed the soft command, anticipation making his blood race, realizing too late what her intent was when she removed the heating pad and ran her hand gently over his leg. He was quick to press his hand over hers, stopping her. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Rather than be put off by his harsh tone, Lillian asked, “Won’t this hel
p?”

  Yes. “No.”

  She leaned over him, their noses almost touching. “Do I need to call bullshit again?”

  Fucking fuck.

  “You shouldn’t have to touch it.” The scars hadn’t bothered him all that much before. Then again, the only people who’d seen them were his doctors and physical therapists. There hadn’t been any women in his life since the accident he’d cared enough about to get naked with. Not until Lillian. And the first time he dropped his pants in front of her had been one of the most gut-wrenching moments of his life. Her reaction was nothing like he expected. Not only hadn’t she been disgusted by his scars, she’d fucking kissed them.

  Kissed. Them.

  Then she’d ignored them from that moment on, as if they didn’t even fucking exist. And because she’d been able to, so had he. He’d barely even given them a thought this past week.

  But now it was like the purple elephant in the room had stood up to sing. Her hands were on the thick, twisted flesh where the broken bone had pushed through, where the surgeons had sliced him open to screw him back together like a giant Erector set. There was no ignoring this. No pretending.

  Lillian’s expression softened. “Aw, baby, don’t you know by now there’s not a single inch of you I don’t want to touch?” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Let me make you feel better. And then I’ll really make you feel better.” Her eyebrows waggled as she grinned.

  Rafe both laughed and groaned. “Mi pequeña bruja. You’re killing me.”

  Her lips pursed in suspicion. “Are you calling me something little again?”

  “Little witch.” He pressed his forehead to hers and let out a gusty sigh. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She mimicked his sigh. “I want to do this.”

  It was becoming clear he wouldn’t win this battle of wills. With great reluctance, Rafe took his restraining hand from hers and flung his arm over his eyes instead. That way he wouldn’t have to see her expression as she touched the evidence of his biggest mistake. It wasn’t her disgust that would hurt the most.

  It was her pity.

  The worst of the knot had been soothed by the heating pad. But when Lillian’s magic fingers dug into his thigh, it was all he could do to keep from moaning out loud. God, that felt good. As she pressed, kneaded, and massaged, fraction by fraction the muscle relaxed, and the pain receded to its normal post-cramp level of tolerable. That alone would have been enough to make him Lillian’s slave forever. But when she continued to work on his leg, the pain eased even further, the dull ache radiating up to his hip fading, the tightness in his calf and foot disappearing entirely.

  “Better?”

  He gave her a groan in answer. “God, yes.”

  “Told ya.”

  He was about to answer the smugness in her voice when he felt her magic fingers start to drift toward his already half-swollen cock, making him shiver. That was when he remembered the second part of her promise to make him feel good.

  As her warm mouth closed over him, Rafe decided the next time Lillian wanted to do anything to his body, anything at all, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to argue. He would let her have her way with him. Because fucking Christ, she wasn’t just making him feel good. She was making him feel awesome.

  Taking his arm away from his eyes, because this he wanted to see, Rafe watched Lillian lick her way down his shaft like it was the best treat ever. When she took him deep into her mouth, he groaned. The ache she created was a hell of a lot better than the one she’d just relieved him of, and when his climax hit, he swore his eyes crossed and the heavens wept.

  God, he loved this woman.

  Fuck.

  He loved her.

  How the hell had he let it get that far? He’d known days ago he was getting in deep, but love? That was over-the-head-and-drowning deep.

  I’m-totally-screwed deep.

  What-the-fuck-do-I-do-now deep.

  And yet…

  He had no desire to run.

  In fact, as he gathered Lillian closer when she snuggled into his side, Rafe realized there was no place else he’d rather be than right here. With her.

  Lillian pressed a kiss to his damp chest. “How’s your leg?”

  It took a second to process the question. Oh, right. His leg.

  “Good as new. Well, as good as it was before the cramp hit, anyway.” Because as good as new was never going to happen. “You need to share your secret with my physical therapist. He’s never managed to do that good a job relaxing me.”

  “I would hope not.”

  The laughter in her voice had him replaying his words in his head. He cursed. “Bruja. You know what I meant.”

  “Keep calling me a witch and I’ll spike your morning omelet with some eye of newt.”

  Rafe laughed. “Lo siento, mi pequeña duendecilla. It won’t happen again.” He kissed her forehead, which was all he could reach with the way she was curled into the side of him. “Where did you learn how to do that, anyway?”

  “The massage? One of my art classes was all about anatomy. I took what I learned there and sort of went with what felt right.”

  He picked her hand up and brought it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip in gratitude for the magic they’d worked. “Thank you.”

  “Does that happen often? The cramping?”

  “Not as often as it used to. Usually when I push too far at PT.” He grimaced. “Or if I tense up too much in my sleep.” He’d known they’d eventually have to circle back around to the nightmare. He just didn’t want to.

  Rubbing her hand in soft circles on his chest, Lillian snuggled closer, her nose tucked against his neck. “You can tell me anything. It will never leave this room.”

  “It’s not like it’s a big secret. It’s just…” He blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. “I dream about the day I fell. The call I was on. It was…”

  The petting continued through the silence. Patient. Soothing. He didn’t know if it was that, or the dark, or the fact that Lillian had already shared one of her own most private secrets, but Rafe’s tension eased enough for him to keep talking.

  “It was a simple domestic call. We were at that apartment at least once a week, when the neighbors got tired of listening to them go at it. They usually broke it up as soon as they heard us coming, and the husband would take off so we couldn’t arrest him for knocking his wife around. But that day, he was still there when I got to the apartment. He was holding a knife to her throat.”

  The expression on Lupe’s face was singed into his memory. Terror. Disbelief. Worst of all, though, had been the weary acceptance.

  “My backup hadn’t arrived yet, so it was up to me to get him to drop the knife and surrender.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “Not even close. He was out of his mind, listing all the reasons she was worthless to him, like he was trying to work up the courage to kill her.”

  “But you were right there! What was he thinking?”

  “He wasn’t. He was a drug addict, and what little was left of his brain was on the fritz because he needed another fix. All he had at that moment was his rage.”

  “God.” Lillian shuddered against him. “So, what happened?”

  “I told him if he didn’t put the knife down, I’d shoot. He was using her as a shield, but I had a clear shot over her shoulder. She was smaller than him.” And a lot younger. “I knew I had to take the shot, but…”

  “But?”

  “I didn’t.” A choice he would be kicking his own ass about for the rest of his sorry life.

  Lillian fingers continued their soothing motion. “You must have had a good reason.”

  He snorted. “No, I didn’t shoot for the stupidest reason possible. Because his wife begged me not to.”

  Her hand stilled. “Why would she do that if he was threatening to kill her?”

  Rafe understood the confusion in her tone. “She said she loved him.”
>
  “But…you said he beat her.”

  “All the time.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Tell me about it.” A few long seconds passed, during which Lillian’s fingers drummed on his chest as she thought. Rafe put his hand over hers to still it. “Don’t try to figure it out, sweetheart. You’ll only hurt your brain.”

  “So, what happened? Did he…did he kill her? Is that what the nightmare was about?”

  He didn’t miss the small catch in her voice. Damn, he shouldn’t be telling her this. Not even as sanitized a version as he was giving her. A woman like her, sweet and sheltered and still wearing the shine of innocent naiveté, shouldn’t be exposed to the ugliness of the world where he worked.

  Especially not the parts that were his fault.

  “You know what? I shouldn’t be telling you this crap. We should—”

  “Don’t you dare stop talking now, buster.” She poked a finger into his chest. “Not unless you want to see what kind of bruja I can really be.”

  Despite the topic, her fierce words made Rafe grin, which he was quick to hide. He wasn’t worried about eye of newt, but there were plenty of other disgusting things his little witch could find to put in his breakfast as punishment if he pissed her off enough.

  “Okay, okay.” He patted her hand until she laid it flat again on his chest. “No, he didn’t kill her that night. He did cut her throat when he pushed her into me to block my shot when he ran, but my partner was able to slow the bleeding while I went after him.”

  “Please tell me you arrested the bastard.”

  “He was arrested, but not by me.” He’d been too busy bleeding on the ground. “I was following him down the fire escape when part of the railing gave way.”

  Lillian sucked in a breath. “Oh, God. Rafe. You could have been killed!”

  “I only fell from the second story.”

  “Only!”

  “It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t land on the broken railing when I hit the ground. That’s what did the most damage to my leg. A few inches to the left and I might have ended up with nothing more than a simple fracture or break.” Of course, a few inches in another direction might have broken his back and left him paralyzed. Or dead. So, at the end of the day, he didn’t have all that much to bitch about except his own bad decisions.