A ways, but still drivable, she thought. She’d rather just know one way or the other if it had been her ex who’d left the destroyed flowers, who’d sent the pictures.
“You haven’t gotten any new deliveries? No new cards?”
“No, Clayton.” She sighed and pushed her hair back.
He stared at her, a familiar look on his square face. Seconds ticked by and he didn’t blink.
“Damn it, you moron.” Irritated by the staring contest, Rocki shoved off the counter. “I said I’d tell you if anything happened and I meant it. There haven’t been any cards, any deliveries, not anything.”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just...” His voice trailed off.
But the look in his eyes said everything. Rocki turned away, pressed a hand to her belly. “Clayton, I’m not ignoring this. I know how serious it is.”
“Do you?”
She looked back over her shoulder, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the look in his eyes. But she couldn’t ignore the fear that lived inside her, couldn’t ignore the nerves or the anxiety. “Yes. I do.”
“But—”
Lacey came up to stand between them, and Rocki could see the indecision on her face. She wanted to side with both of them—her brother and his fear for Rocki, and Rocki, as well, because Rocki damn well knew Lacey likely wouldn’t have handled things much differently.
Lacey laid a hand on Clayton’s arm and said, “Ease up, bub. She’s being careful, okay?”
“Careful isn’t always enough.” Clayton shook his head. “Rocki—”
“No.” She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear this. You think I don’t realize how badly I screwed up back then? I do, I get it. I screwed up then when I didn’t report him. It won’t happen again.”
“You sure about that?”
“Damn it, Clayton,” Lacey snapped. “Enough.”
“No.” Rocki shook her head, barely sparing Lacey a look. “This is between us now, Lacey. I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it.” Setting her jaw, she focused on Clayton, barely resisting the urge to throw something. At his head—that thick, rock-hard skull. “You think I don’t realize how serious this is.”
“I’m pretty damn certain you don’t.”
“And I’m pretty damn certain I do.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him.
“Then why didn’t you call when things first started getting weird?”
Rocki shoved both hands into her hair and tugged, a strangled scream escaping her. “Damn it, Clayton, you’re being an asshole, you know that? I got some fucking cards. Unsigned, with pictures of me. That was it. There was nothing written on them, nothing said. If I’d done anything then, a report would have been filed...and if it had been a cop who didn’t know me taking the report? I would have been brushed off and you damn well know it. As soon as I had something sort of concrete, I called.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clayton mumbled under his breath.
“What?”
Lowering his hand, he glared at her. “Part of me is pissed off knowing that you may be right.”
“I know I am.”
“The other part is thinking that you’re a cop’s wife...” He paused, cleared his throat. “You were a cop’s wife. You know what to say, when to say, how to say it to make them take you seriously, Rock. And damn it, you could have just found out when I was on shift. You know I’m always there when you need me.”
“I do know that. And when I did need help, you were the one I called,” she said, her voice gentle. Sighing, she made herself think past the anger, the fear, the nerves. This was Clayton, her friend for so many years. She’d known him for as long as she’d known Lacey. He’d always been there for her. She knew he worried. “Clay, try to understand...I was doing what I thought was right—trying to be careful without jumping to conclusions.”
He looked down, staring at the battered little leather notebook he carried in his jacket pocket. But she suspected he wasn’t paying any attention to the notes he’d made. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and then he looked up, his gaze locking with hers. “I know that, Rock. I just worry. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t want to see me hurt, either.” She forced herself to smile. “Hurt, bad. I get that.”
He skimmed a hand back through his hair. “Lady, I hope you do. Okay, then. So you’ll call if you need me, right? No matter how small a thing it seems?”
“Absolutely.” And she meant it. She was not going to be a victim again. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Alright. I don’t like this, not any of it. But alright.” He blew out a breath. A forced smile came and went on his face. “So. You still seeing that lawyer or did you at least wise up on that level?”
Until then, Lacey had kept quiet, but now she groaned and said, “Damn it, Clayton, leave her love life out of it.” She made a face at Rocki. “I think he’s still hung up on you and having issues. Just ignore him.”
Rocki tensed, the idea making her ridiculously uncomfortable. From the corner of her eye, she saw a red flush creeping up Clayton’s neck, across his face. His voice was easy enough as he said, “Oh, I’ve got all sorts of issues. My kid sister’s best friend is dating a lawyer—that would give anybody a complex.”
“Yeah, I’m still seeing the lawyer.” Absently, she toyed with her hair. She’d woven it into two long braids today. Unaware of the smile on her face, she stared out the window. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”
Third date. She could definitely have sex with him on their third date, she thought. His place? Hers? She didn’t know, didn’t care.
“Man. I gotta get out of here,” Clayton said, his voice brusque. “I can’t stand to see you standing there with that smile on your face...over a lawyer.”
As he left, Lacey shot Rocki a look, and they both started to laugh.
“I’d like to see you tonight.”
Gripping the phone in one hand, Rocki pressed her other hand to her belly. Slow it down …just a little. But out loud, she simply replied, “Tomorrow will be here before you know it. What happened to whatever thing you had going on tonight?”
“Fell apart.” Cole sighed. “I was supposed to be out of town, work stuff. Didn’t happen.”
“Ahhh.” She finished shutting down the computer and then stood up, began making a circuit around the shop. It had been a slow day. Usually things got slower after Valentine’s Day, then picked back up again sometime in March when people starting getting a lot more serious about weddings and stuff. She was used to it mostly, but slow days were still tedious.
“‘Ahhh’...what does that mean, exactly?”
“Just that.” She smiled as she paused by a table and straightened up the display there. Rocki was honest enough with herself to admit that she was tempted to tell Cole he could come over, but she was still a little leery. Two dates. And one wild night of sex.
And she was restless. Edgy. Plus, irritated as hell, still, from the discussion with Clayton earlier. Not exactly ideal company, really. And damn it, if he wanted to see her, couldn’t he just ask?
Well, he sort of did, a calm, rational voice pointed out. Rocki brushed it off. That hadn’t been asking. He’d just been mentioning it. He hadn’t asked.
“So, tomorrow, right? Six?” She needed to get off the phone now before she started clueing him in on her psycho mood swings.
“Six.” He hesitated, almost like he wanted to say something else. But then he sighed. “You have a good night, Rocki. Think about me.”
“Hmmm. I do that all too often, handsome.” Then she lowered the phone and disconnected, staring off into nothing.
If she’d wanted you to come over, she would have asked, he thought.
Cole figured he needed to turn around. Go back home. Spend the night alone.
But he didn’t.
He made a couple of stops. The liquor store for a bottle of wine. A small boutique that was o
pen later than some, selling chocolate and flowers. She hadn’t had much of a Valentine’s Day, right? He could make up for that. And see her.
He just wanted to see her. No. Needed to.
And even if it was just for a few minutes, it was better than nothing.
Rocki finished up in the store twenty-five minutes later. Brooding and wishing she’d maybe asked Cole to meet her, she locked up and started toward her car.
It was cold, the bite of winter still heavy in the air, despite the fact that it was almost near the end of February. The corset she wore managed to keep her warmer than one would think, and the camisole she wore under it rose high enough to keep her chest from being too cold. She’d always been terribly lazy with coats. She had one on now, but as always, she hadn’t bothered to button it and she was cold.
As she hurried toward her car, the low, thick heels of her motorcycle boots thudding heavily on the ground, she muttered, “Spring. I want spring.”
Warm sun.
Longer days.
Fewer shadows—
Suddenly, one of the shadows shifted.
Rocki jerked her head up as a man emerged from them. Her breath caught in her chest, lodged there.
In the past ten years, Dwayne Carpenter’s solid body hadn’t softened much. He’d played football in college and a lot of that bulk was still there. He looked…older, though. Older. Meaner. As he lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, she suppressed a shiver, remembering just how much pain those big hands had been capable of causing.
He had very cold, very cruel eyes—she hadn’t seen that back all those years ago. At least not right away. But it was unmistakable now. She went still, staring at him. With one hand in her pocket, she gripped her phone and wondered if she could call 9-1-1 without him noticing.
“Hello, Roxanne.” That voice—fuck. Lower than it used to be, raspier. Harsher. That voice was distinctive, and she knew she’d heard it before…and recently. The night of the auction. Son of a bitch. It had been him there that night, the other one bidding on her.
“Dwayne.”
He took a step toward her. Her first instinct was to step back, but she didn’t. She held her ground, watching him, as he closed the distance even more. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
She didn’t respond. What was the point?
“Nothing to say?”
“And why should I say anything?” Rocki lifted a brow. “You want me to say thanks to the man who tried to rape me eleven years ago?”
Somebody ugly and cold flashed through his eyes. But he smiled. “Perhaps you should be saying ‘thank you’ to the man who never stopped loving you. Never stopped thinking about you. I saw you at the auction—you looked lovely, but you shouldn’t parade around like that. It’s…not acceptable.”
Acceptable? She curled her lip at him.
He was closer now and he lifted a hand. But before he could touch her, Rocki used her left arm to block him, putting enough force behind it that it sent a jolt clear up her arm. “Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“Bitch.” A snarl twisted his face. “Don’t you fucking know what I do when you piss me off? And your cop’s not around anymore...yeah, I heard about that. He can’t protect you now.”
Rocki smiled. “I don’t need a man protecting me, Dwayne.” She shifted, set her feet, absently saying a prayer of gratitude that she’d put on a different kind of shoes today. Normally, she would have worn something with high heels. But today, she’d pulled on a pair of Harley Davidson boots—flat and heavy with solid, sturdy soles. She could move just fine, without worrying about breaking an ankle.
Hate and possessiveness burned in Dwayne’s eyes. “Don’t you? You hid behind him for years. Fucking cunt. Can’t do it now, though—I finally heard he got what was coming to him, that fucker. Rotting in his grave and you can’t hide behind him.”
“I didn’t hide behind him. I married him.” Slipping a hand into her coat pocket, she said, “You need to leave now. Just get the hell away and stay away. I’ve already called the cops about the cards and the flowers. The investigating officer is already looking for you.”
“Is he?” Dwayne laughed. “That’s funny, because I’m not here tonight—I got a friend who will swear I was working on a car with him.”
Then he lunged for her.
Rocki shifted her weight and kicked. The fucking corset threw her balance off, but she managed, driving the sidekick straight into his gut. As he stumbled backward, she settled back onto her feet. “I’m not the helpless girl you remember, jackass.”
Cutting a wide berth around him, she started toward her car. She was going to get inside, lock the fucking door, and get away from here. Once she did that, she’d call the cops.
Wine. Chocolate. Flowers. All accounted for. Cole was going to swing by the shop first, make sure she wasn’t there. Part of him kind of hoped she was, and part of him—the very perverted, very male part of him—was wondering if he could talk her into modeling a few pieces she had in her store...for him. It was a fantasy he’d been living with all damn week.
Although he realized that might be sort of rushing things.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her, though.
All the time—she was in his head, all the time. Could you fall in love that fast? Was it healthy to even think he could have fallen in love that fast? He was just a couple of weeks out of a break-up, and although it hadn’t been a bad one on his part, he realized he should maybe take things slower with Rocki.
Be patient.
Make sure he wasn’t just reacting to Rocki because of some latent issues with Mara—
His phone rang.
And the ringtone had him swearing.
Speak of the devil...or the Wicked Witch of High Street.
He almost ignored it. But he figured he might as well see what she wanted so he wasn’t ignoring phone calls every ten minutes for the rest of the night. Parking in front of Rocki’s store, he answered the phone.
Dwayne was still damn fast, a fact that Rocki figured out only seconds before she would have been in her car. She saw him coming and darted away, refusing to be caught between him and any object, even if it was her car.
“You need to leave me alone,” she warned him, her voice shaking. He needed to leave her alone, and he needed to do it now because damn it, that look in his eyes was terrifying.
Damned terrifying.
“Do I?” He sneered and made another grab for her. This time, thick, strong fingers caught the sleeve of her coat.
With a desperate jerk, she tore away from him, stumbling a little before she caught her balance. “Stop it, Dwayne. You think you’re not going to get caught, you fucking idiot? You’ll be the first person they look at.”
He only laughed. This time, when he came after her, he moved too fast. She hit him—something in her hand snapped—she felt it, the hot, vicious pain so bright and hot. Blood fountained from his nose and spilled all over her as he took her down.
The air exploded out of her lungs and seconds later, she was struggling to breathe at all as he shoved his forearm against her throat, using his other hand to tear at the busk of her corset. “Bitch. My fucking bitch and you won’t forget it this time.”
Black dots swirled in front of her. Pain, ugly and clawing, tore through her. Couldn’t black out—couldn’t. Her right hand was useless. But she’d be damned if she would let this happen to her again. A sweet gust of air rushed into her lungs as he lifted his weight just a little, still struggling to loosen the corset—
The absurd, foolishness of those actions might have made her laugh hysterically if she could have spared the breath. There was no way he’d get her out of it that easily. But between his weight crushing her, and the corset itself, she couldn’t laugh at the futility of it—he might as well have been trying to tie his shoes using his teeth.
It cleared her brain just a bit, though. Enough for her to flex her left hand, still laying curled and free on the ground beside her. He thought she wouldn’
t fight. Bastard. Brushing her hand along the ground, she searched for something—anything. When her hand touched something round, cold and smooth, she gripped it. A bottle—all the bottles that littered the back parking lot. They usually pissed her off.
Just then, she could have kissed the litterbug.
Curling her hand around it, she lifted it. “Dwayne...”
Chapter Nine
The sound of a scream froze his blood.
Forgetting about Mara’s whining demand for answers, forgetting about everything, Cole took off running up the narrow alley that ran between Rocki’s store and the building next door. As he ran, he called 9-1-1.
He tore into the back parking lot just in time to see her bringing something down on a man’s head.
She was pinned beneath him—pale, struggling.
Cole exploded.
With a roar, he dove for the other man, taking him down.
The next few seconds passed in a blur, yet some parts were insanely clear. He could remember shoving the bastard to the pavement, could remember driving his fist into his face, once. Twice.
Then he remembered, clear as day, a hand on his arm.
Rocki.
Then there were sirens.
“You’re wasting you’re fucking time,” Dwayne said, his voice thick and nasally, distorted by his broken nose and a swollen lip.
Between the head injury Rocki had dealt him with the broken bottle and the damage Cole had done, the man was not in good shape. But he was still belligerent and full of attitude as he fought against the cop who was slapping him into cuffs.
“Stupid bitch won’t do a damn thing,” he said, smirking at her. “Not a damn thing.”
Rocki stared at him. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
She was pale, shaking from the strain and cradling her right hand. But she wouldn’t go to the hospital. Not yet. Not until she saw that fuck into the police car. Not until she saw them take him away.
Virgin's Night Out Page 23
