by Ranae Rose
“Do you want me to?”
They’d had sex numerous times during the past week. He’d enjoyed it like he couldn’t remember enjoying anything else. Still, he had his reservations.
He loved making her feel good. It was the least he could do. But taking such mind-numbing pleasure from her when she was hurting still didn’t feel quite right.
She said he hadn’t been causing her any extra pain. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe his real hang-up was that he just didn’t want to get too used to fucking her.
Sex with her was so good – the only thing that felt good to him, right now – that’d it’d be unbearable to be cut off suddenly. Which would happen if he was convicted. Or if she realized how miserable he was to be around and decided she didn’t want to deal with it anymore.
Both of those ideas made his gut cramp and his mouth go dry.
How had he become so addicted to being with someone he’d known for such a short period of time? Every time he fucked her, he dug himself into a deeper hole – one that’d cave in and bury him in regret if things went bad.
Hell, just spending time with her fueled his addiction.
Better to have loved and lost? Fuck that. There was no part of him that would gracefully accept losing Hannah.
“Of course I want you to stay late,” she said, smiling. “I only wish I had a bigger bed so I could keep you all night.”
“I’ll stay as late as you want – until you get tired of me and take that back.” He gave returning her smile his best shot.
“Careful what you say; I’ll hold you to that.” Her eyes shone.
His cock throbbed under the table. At least some part of him was working normally.
* * * * *
Ben got off work late. No surprise, considering the fact that he’d missed the day before to attend the preliminary hearing.
At least his boss had let him work late to make up for it. It could’ve been worse – he could’ve fired Ben. He still could. The thought haunted him.
He’d fucked up so badly at his last job, back in Jersey. And his boss there had been ridiculously forgiving, had even given Ben a good reference when he’d left to move to Pittsburgh.
He couldn’t expect to get lucky like that again. He’d had his second chance; you didn’t get thirds.
If he was convicted of a violent felony, that’d be it: even if he did his time in prison, he’d be untouchable when he got out. Nobody in their right mind would want to hire a mentally ill convicted felon who hadn’t practiced his trade for years.
What would he do then – sponge off of Dylan?
No. He grimaced as he climbed into his Mustang. He’d done that for several months after his move and it’d been a poison to his pride, his sense of self. He was back on his feet now and he couldn’t let himself be dragged back down again. He didn’t have the strength of spirit, or the will.
Besides, Dylan and Crystal were close. If Ben went to prison and somehow survived the hell of it, by the time he got out they’d probably be living together, along with Emily, as a happy little family.
The thought of intruding on that made him feel nauseated.
Going to prison wasn’t an option. Life afterward would be a meaningless clusterfuck, and life during would be a hell he wasn’t equipped to take on. He was already having a hard time keeping a handle on his emotions, and he hadn’t lost anything yet. He’d probably go batshit crazy behind bars.
And there’d be no one to help him then. It wasn’t like the prison system was a shining beacon of advanced psychiatric care. More likely, he’d get out of control – like he had after his first arrest – and make things worse for himself.
The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and his head was gripped in a sudden ache. No matter how he looked at it, a prison sentence would be the end of a life worth having. Even worse: it’d be a painful ordeal for the people he cared about.
It’d rake Dylan over the coals. And it’d break Hannah’s heart. He didn’t have any delusions about her being in love with him, but she felt bizarrely responsible for the trouble he was in. She’d probably feel guilty over splitting up with him when he went to prison – which would be the only sane choice she could possibly make in that situation.
Crystal would be upset too.
Even Emily might miss him a little.
He didn’t want to hurt any of them. And he didn’t want to hurt himself, either. But if convicted, he’d have to in order to save himself and the people he cared about from greater suffering.
It was the only thing that made sense, the only post-conviction fate he could stomach.
He glanced at the clock on the dash as he pulled out of the parking lot beside the garage. He was running late, but he’d already texted Hannah to say that he’d be working overtime. She didn’t know exactly what time he’d get to her place.
On his way there, he stopped at a storefront that’d caught his eye several times during the past week.
As he parked his car across the street and walked inside, he thought of the night before and how good it’d been. How beautiful Hannah had looked and how happy she’d seemed to be with him. How he’d felt alive as soon as he’d buried himself inside her, and how he’d felt good despite himself as he’d fucked her.
He wasn’t completely fucked-up. He could still enjoy things. And Hannah wanted to be with him. He was insanely lucky in some ways.
Unlucky in others.
Maybe he’d get lucky again and be spared a conviction. Maybe he’d have plenty more time to enjoy the things he’d come to take satisfaction in: his job, his workouts, his new life as Dylan’s roommate in Pittsburgh, being with Hannah…
He hoped for it. But he didn’t dare count on it. Fifteen minutes after walking into the firearms dealer, he was pulling out his credit card and waiting for a background check to go through.
There were no problems there: he wasn’t a felon. Yet.
He walked out with what he’d come for, the weight of five-hundred dollars’ worth of cold, steel comfort making it a little easier for him to breathe.
CHAPTER 20
Hannah stretched out on Ben’s bed. “I’m jealous.”
He sat on the edge, bending over to pick his jeans up off the floor. “Of what?”
“How big your bed is.” She’d been in it with him a handful of times now, and she couldn’t sink down onto the mattress without a spark of envy.
“I’m tall; anything smaller than a queen is too short.”
“You didn’t complain when you spent the night at my place.” There’d only been the one night, but it still gave her butterflies when she thought about it. Ever since her shoulder injury, he’d refused to stay the night at her apartment.
“Yeah, well, I’d give up an extra five inches for you.”
She snorted. “Somehow that sounded … wrong.”
He grinned. “I have no idea what you mean. Queen mattresses are five inches longer than twin ones. I know because I used to have a twin, and my feet would slip off the end while I was sleeping. So I bought this.”
“Hmm. I should’ve looked for one last time I was out shopping with Jenna.”
“Keep your dinky little bed. Not having a place where we can sleep together is the only reason you ever get a break from me.”
She sat up beside him and touched his upper arm, her fingertips brushing the biomechanical tattoo. “Who says I want a break?”
“You’re insatiable so far; I’ll give you that.” He stood and pulled on his underwear and jeans.
She watched intently as he pulled the cotton and denim up over his perfect, sculpted ass.
“You don’t seem to mind.” Despite the way he responded to her physically, she’d spent weeks being secretly relieved every time they had sex. She’d feared that stress would drive a rift between them, that he wouldn’t want to get so close to her.
But that had rarely been the case. Lately, she’d also been catching glimpses of the Ben she’d first met, even when they weren’t i
n bed.
He seemed more level – less distant – lately and that galvanized her confidence in the upcoming court proceedings.
“Where are you going?” she asked when he stood.
“To call in dinner.”
“Is your brother going to be here that soon?” She glanced at the alarm clock. It was later than she’d realized. It was amazing how she lost track of time when she was with him.
“Yeah. Him, Crystal and Emily.”
Hannah nodded, then reached for her panties and jeans as Ben exited the room. Her palms were hot and sweaty. Without Ben distracting her, she had to face her nervousness.
She’d been to his apartment a few times by now. She’d even been around Dylan there, but only briefly. Today she’d be eating dinner with Ben, Dylan, Crystal and her little girl, Emily.
It felt like meeting Ben’s family, especially since he wasn’t close to his parents, who lived out of state anyway. Of course, she already knew Dylan from work, but this was different. And she’d only returned to Hot Ink yesterday, after three weeks of absence – overall, she hadn’t spent much time with him.
Suddenly in a hurry to finish getting dressed, she scanned the room for her bra.
It was nowhere to be seen. How the hell those things managed to magically disappear so often during sex, she had no idea. But this wasn’t the first time.
Past experience prompted her to drop to her knees, and she found what she was looking for on the floor. Hidden mostly beneath the bed, her buff-colored bra camouflaged effectively against the beige carpet.
Reaching beneath the edge of the box spring, she snagged a strap and pulled, but not before her fingertips touched something unexpected.
That something was caught on her bra strap and inched into view as she pulled.
When her bra popped free, she froze with it in one hand and stared at the object it’d uncovered.
A gun. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she felt her pulse in her fingertips.
The end of a handgun barrel showed from beneath the edge of the bed. It was a Glock – the logo near the tip of the barrel made that obvious. The longer she stared, the worse she felt. Plenty of people owned guns, but…
Something wasn’t right.
First off, why the hell did Ben keep it under the edge of his bed, where it’d be within easy reach all night? He wasn’t that concerned about home safety, was he?
He’d never said or done anything to make her think so.
Her father had always kept a handgun in the house, but he’d kept it locked in a safe, where neither she nor her sister could access it. Ben didn’t have kids, but today Crystal was bringing her daughter over.
Hannah’s mouth – so recently swollen from kissing Ben – went dry. How could he be so careless?
She picked up the gun. Her dad had taken her to a shooting range a couple times when she’d been in her early twenties, shortly after she’d moved away from her hometown to San Francisco. He’d said he didn’t want her to be afraid of guns, in case she decided that as a woman living alone, she’d like to own one.
She’d gone along with it, figuring that his oldest daughter moving away had triggered some harmless overprotective dad behavior. Maybe his job had played a role in it. After all, he’d been a part of quite a few homicide investigations, even if he contributed from inside a lab.
Thanks to him, she knew the basics of how to handle a firearm, even if she’d never bought one. It was enough to allow her to check if the Glock was loaded.
She hesitated for a second, afraid she’d discover that it was.
It wasn’t.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she bowed her head, still cradling the black steel. She couldn’t just put it back, even if it was empty. It wasn’t right to leave a gun where a child might find it.
Her thighs quivered as she stood, and she couldn’t be sure that it was an after-effect of sex. She’d never been much of a gun enthusiast, and finding a weapon in Ben’s room made her uneasy. Even after she placed it on the high shelf in his bedroom closet and finished getting dressed, the bad feeling the discovery had left her with lingered.
Should she approach him about it – ask why he had it?
It was probably none of her business, but he was bound to notice she’d moved it. And someone should point out to him that he shouldn’t leave it lying around, in case Crystal’s daughter went into his room.
Despite the logic of that, her stomach whirled with agitated butterflies as she exited the bedroom and emerged into the kitchen, where Ben stood with his phone in hand. Before he could look up and notice her, she studied him.
Did he really look happier than he had a couple weeks ago? Were things really going better? Or was she just lost in wishful thinking?
For the first time since they’d revisited the steakhouse with live jazz music two weeks ago, she doubted her perceptions deeply.
Now that she forced herself to admit it, several things had been different during the past weeks. The dark circles under his eyes, for one. He claimed he’d been sleeping enough, but was he really?
Maybe finding the gun was a clue that something was more wrong than she’d realized. Deep down, she didn’t believe he kept a gun so close for home security purposes. That wasn’t the type of thing he worried about.
What he did worry about was his upcoming trial, and the possibility of being convicted. He worried about it a lot.
Realization dawned on her, showing her what an idiot she’d been.
Ben was under a huge amount of stress, and understandably scared. He was also bipolar. And he hadn’t been himself lately – she was sure of that, now that she thought about it.
There’d been lots of times over the past few weeks when he’d been beside her but seemed a million miles away, lost in his thoughts. And what about the stubborn ways in which he’d insisted on caring for her: buying too many groceries, cooking too much food. Acting like sex was a guilty pleasure he didn’t deserve. She’d written it off as an understandable response to stress, but now that she knew he was sleeping with a gun under his bed…
Had she missed signs that something was deeply wrong?
A heavy feeling in her gut told her she had.
She couldn’t stand the thought of him even considering hurting himself.
“Ben…” She approached him as he hung up the phone, the dinner order placed.
“What?” He looked up, his dark eyes underscored by those dark circles.
Her heart raced.
The apartment door’s deadbolt slid undone, and the door swung inward. Dylan, Crystal and Emily walked in, all smiling.
* * * * *
Hannah didn’t look as happy during dinner as she had in Ben’s bedroom. He didn’t know whether to consider that a point of pride or not.
It’d been Crystal’s big idea for them all to eat dinner together, and Ben had agreed because he’d figured Hannah would enjoy it. Apparently, he was wrong. She picked at her food and hadn’t smiled once since she’d sat down at the table.
Was she uncomfortable around Dylan, Crystal and Emily? Or was it something he’d done?
She’d been smiling and teasing him when he’d left his bedroom. If he’d done something wrong, he was clueless.
* * * * *
Hannah’s stomach churned as she helped Dylan clear the table. She’d volunteered for the task, hoping to get him alone.
It worked. She was alone with him in the kitchen as they stacked dishes on the counter. By the time she gathered her nerve, he’d turned and was about to walk out of the room.
“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Can I ask you something?”
He stopped. “Sure. What is it?”
She uncurled her balled-up fists, wishing she knew Dylan better so this would be less awkward.
“Do you or Ben… Do either of you guys keep a gun in the apartment?”
Dylan’s brow crinkled. “No. Why?”
Her heart sank. Some delusional part of her had still been
hoping he’d tell her that they were target shooting enthusiasts, or something like that.
“Because I found one in Ben’s room. Accidentally. It was in a weird place and it – it worried me.”
Dylan frowned. He’d just opened his mouth to say something when Crystal walked into the kitchen, her long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail that swung as she nodded toward the plates, silverware and glasses stacked on the counter.
“Need any help washing up?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dylan said. “I’ll take care of the dishes later. Where’s Emily?”
“Out in the living room with Ben. You know how she is when he’s around – suddenly, I’m boring compared to him.”
The sound of a toddler’s laughter drifted from the living room.
Dylan nodded, and his gaze darted toward the hallway, where his and Ben’s rooms lay.
Hannah wanted to tell him that the gun had been unloaded and that she’d put it up where Emily couldn’t reach, but didn’t dare say anything in front of Crystal. She already felt like a tattle-tale for going to Dylan.
“Are you sure about the dishes?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dylan stepped in front of the sink, as if to block her from cleaning up. “Go ahead and relax, baby.”
“Okay, if you insist. I guess we’re all watching Wreck it Ralph, then.”
Dylan turned to Hannah the moment Crystal exited the kitchen.
“Wait until after the movie, when Crystal and Emily are gone. I’ll talk to him then. For now, where’s the gun?”
“I put it up on the shelf in his closet. It was unloaded, but I was still afraid Emily might find it.”
Dylan nodded, and although Hannah didn’t know him very well, it was easy to see that her news had hit him where it hurt.
CHAPTER 21
The movie seemed to last for hours. Afterward, Crystal left, saying she needed to put Emily to bed. Then Hannah was alone with Ben and Dylan.
