by L. A. Witt
And you’ll wear me down just like you always do, and we’ll wind up in bed, and—
And the thought of having sex with him made my skin crawl.
But damn if I had the energy to argue with him tonight. I was drained after working up the courage to confront him in the first place. Our physical confrontation had been mercifully brief thanks to the bouncers, but those fights always left me exhausted. Even if he just backhanded me across the face and that was the end of it, I would be almost lethargic once the adrenaline had dropped out from under me.
Which meant I couldn’t do this tonight. I just didn’t have it in me.
“Okay.” I swallowed. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jesse smiled. He drew me in and kissed me in that tender way that had won me over dozens of times in the past but just made me queasy now.
I broke the kiss and didn’t look at him. “I need to go to sleep, though. I’ll text you on my way home tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He paused. “I love you. I mean it.”
Without looking at him, I murmured, “I love you too.” I’d stopped meaning it a long time ago. It was easy to tell him that lie, though. Not because I took the words lightly, but because they were code for “please don’t hurt me.” I didn’t love him, but I didn’t want to give him a reason to go hands-on again either.
He kissed me once more and let it linger just long enough to make me think he’d want to stay tonight.
I nudged him back. “Not tonight.”
Jesse grinned. “I tried.”
I forced my best smile, and showed him to the door. There, I tolerated one last kiss and waited in the foyer until the sound of his car engine had disappeared into the night.
Then I slid down the door and sat on the mat beside the shoe rack, kneading my temples. Shouka was immediately at my side, whining softly and licking my hand.
“Hey, baby.” I wrapped my arms around her and let all hundred some-odd pounds of her lean against me.
Tomorrow night. That would give me time.
Time to work up the courage.
Time to think of something to say.
Time to see if Elliott’s offer really did still stand.
Chapter 3
Elliott
I didn’t expect to see Samir again, let alone the same night.
But there he was, not two hours after he’d left, walking in the front door of Wilde’s with his hands in his pockets and his head down. He paused just inside and scanned the room. When his eyes locked on me, he straightened and started my way.
A million scenarios flashed through my mind. Had his ex been back? Had something happened? Shit.
When he was close enough to hear me over the music, I shouted, “Hey. You all right?”
“Yeah,” he shouted back. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I nodded and motioned for him to follow me. The back hallway was pretty empty this time of night. Almost no one came back here except for employees. Well, aside from the restrooms, but those were at the other end.
Down by the entrance to the VIP lounge stairwell, we stopped, and I faced him. “So what’s going on?”
With a heavy sigh, Samir closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. “I need your help.”
My heart quickened. “What do you need?”
He moistened his lips. After a long moment, he opened his eyes but stared up at the ceiling. “I tried to call it off with him tonight. I fucking tried.”
I stepped closer. “What happened? What did he do to you?”
“He didn’t touch me.” Samir shook his head and exhaled again. “He just…wouldn’t listen.” After a moment, he met my gaze. “He told me he thinks we just need to sleep on it. Give both of us a chance to cool down after tonight.”
“Because he still thinks he has a reason to be pissed at you,” I growled.
Samir laughed bitterly. “Well, he did cheat because we weren’t spending enough time together since I was working too many hours.”
I blinked. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “So now he wants to meet up tomorrow night.” Samir dropped his hand and looked at me, the fatigue palpable in those beautiful eyes. “I need your help. There’s… I just can’t do it. He talks me out of it every time. And I guess… I mean maybe…”
“Of course. No question.”
He searched my eyes. “He might lose his shit.”
I grinned. “I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with that here.”
Samir actually laughed, but it was a faint, tired sound. “Or he’ll just keep trying to talk me out of it until I finally give in like I always do.”
“I can always step in then too. Once you’ve said your piece and he’s clearly just trying to manipulate you, all you have to do is give me a nod or something, and I’ll get rid of him.”
That brought the closest thing to a genuine smile I’d seen on his face so far. “You’re serious? You’d really do that?”
I nodded.
He exhaled, then pushed himself off the wall and threw his arms around me, startling me and nearly knocking me off balance. “Thank you so much. I’ve been… Fuck, I’ve been going this alone for so long.”
I hugged him tight. “Don’t sweat it.”
“I owe you.” He let me go, and when our eyes met, he jumped and took a step back. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’m… I shouldn’t…”
“Samir. Relax.” I smiled. “It’s okay.”
His hands were shaking, and I couldn’t resist taking one and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I mean it,” I said. “It’s all good.”
He looked down at our hands, then at me, and slowly, he let another smile break through. “I guess I should give you my address.”
“Good idea.” I let go of his hand and took out my phone. “Probably better give you my number too. Just in case anything changes.”
Samir pulled out his phone too.
I didn’t ask why the screen was cracked.
~*~
I parked around the corner from Samir’s address. I didn’t relish the idea of Jesse knowing what my car looked like.
Samir’s house was a modest place in Madison Park, not far from Capitol Hill. It was probably from the 1930s or 1940s like a lot of houses down here, with a small garage and a well-groomed yard. In the window by the front door, he had one of those stickers to alert firefighters there were pets in the house, and on the porch, the welcome mat read Wipe Your Paws.
I smiled to myself. He was an animal lover. I liked that. It had been years since I’d had a pet myself—frequent deployments made it impractical and not fair to the animals—but I’d been wanting to get a cat or a dog since I’d settled down in Seattle. Too bad my landlord disagreed with that plan.
I wiped my feet on the mat and knocked. Instantly, what sounded like a very large dog started barking somewhere in the house, and the whole place shook as the dog thundered toward the door. Samir had warned me last night that he had a big dog, but this sounded closer to a herd of elephants. Running, barking elephants.
“Shouka.” Samir’s voice. Sharp, but with a hint of laughter. “Quiet.”
The dog stopped barking but whined softly. Footsteps came toward the door.
“Relax,” Samir said with a little more laughter in his voice. “Doofus.” The deadbolt clicked. When the door opened, he held it in one hand, and in the other, he had a firm grip on the red collar of a big rottweiler. “Come on in.” He moved aside, tugging the dog with him. “She’s loud, but she’s totally friendly.”
“If you say so.” I stepped into the house. When I glanced down, I noticed he was wearing socks. “So, shoes on? Shoes off?”
“I’d keep them on. Otherwise you might not see them again.”
I eyed the dog.
Samir laughed. “She’ll leave them alone. It’s the cats you have to worry about.”
“The cats? Seriously?”
“They’re hellions.” He crouched beside the dog and eased his grasp on her collar. She was squirming, eyes fixed on me and tongue lolling out of her giant mouth. “Let her sniff your hand. She’ll probably lick it, but—”
“That’s okay. I love dogs.” I offered my hand, and sure enough, she had it coated in dog spit in two seconds flat. I chuckled, then petted her, giving her back some of her own slobber.
Samir let go of her collar and she stood, rump shaking with the force of her tail wagging—not that she had much of a tail.
I scratched behind her ears. “She really does seem like a nice dog.”
“Oh she is. She’s a big teddy bear.” He smiled like a dad gazing fondly at his kid.
I gave her shoulder a gentle pat before facing him. “So you’ve got a rottweiler the size of a horse, but your cats rule the place?”
He groaned, rolling his eyes. “My own damn fault for getting a couple of fucking Bengals.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, they’re—” He paused. “We’re just standing here in my hallway. Do you want some coffee or anything?”
I shrugged. “I could go for some coffee, sure. Thanks.” I didn’t really need the caffeine, but had a feeling it would keep him busy and keep his mind off why I was here. He was surprisingly relaxed at the moment, and the longer he stayed that way, the better.
He led me down a short hallway to an expansive and tidy kitchen. Like, really tidy. In fact, as I looked around, I realized there was nothing on any surface. The kitchen table was bare. The top of the small buffet was empty. The counters had a few canister and a coffee maker, but otherwise, nothing. Not even sponges or dish soap on the sink or dog biscuits on top of the fridge. Hell, the fridge didn’t even have magnets on it.
“Minimalist, eh?” I said.
“Hmm?” He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled down a couple of coffee mugs. Then he laughed. “Oh, the lack of stuff out in the open?”
“Yeah. I mean, it looks great. You could teach classes on being neat.”
Samir snorted. “Remember those Bengals I mentioned?” He put the coffee cups down and shot me a smirk. “They could teach lessons in decluttering.”
“How’s that?”
“Because if it isn’t nailed down, they will get into it and either knock it down or destroy it.”
“Jesus.”
“I mean, it’s partly my fault. That breed is much, much happier when they can roam outside the house.” He pulled the coffee grounds out of a cabinet, which I noticed with some amusement had childproof latches. “Most Bengals prefer a one-mile walking territory, if not more. But I don’t let them outside. Not when I see so many car-related injuries at my clinic.”
“Your clinic?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at me again. “I’m a veterinarian.”
“Oh. Wow.”
He smiled shyly. “So yeah. I wound up with two rescued Bengals but can’t let them outside, so I just try to Bengal-proof the house as much as possible and give them as many toys to keep them busy as—”
Something crashed in the next room. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat.
Samir just rolled his eyes. “Fucking cats.”
“Oh. Right. Cats.”
“Yeah.” He eyed me. “Remember? Bengals?”
“Right.” I swallowed, trying to will my heart to come back down. “I, uh… Sudden noises. They…”
Samir stiffened. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” I waved a hand. “You didn’t know.”
“But still. Jesus. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just, uh, startled me.”
He held my gaze.
Well, might as well explain it just in case something really startled me. “Spent a bit too much time in a warzone. Kind of a”—I tapped my temple—“souvenir.”
“Oh. PTSD?”
“A little. It’s not as bad as some of the guys I went over there with. I don’t get flashbacks. Just, you know, some nightmares and jumping out of my skin if someone slams a door.”
His eyes darted in the direction the crash had come from. “I can pen them up in their room.”
I chuckled. “Their room? Really?”
He held my gaze, but then laughed too, blushing a bit as he returned to making coffee. “I turned one of the bedrooms into a cat room. So they have a place to play if I have people over, or if they’ve gotten on my last nerve.”
“And they like it? Being penned up like that?”
“Well, not for hours on end, but if I throw some catnip on the floor and give them a few bouncy balls to play with, it keeps them busy for a while.” He glanced at me again. “So, I’m serious. If you want me to put them in their room, I can.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m actually curious about them. They sound entertaining as hell.”
Samir chuckled. Then he reached into a drawer—also childproofed—and pulled out a small bag of cat treats. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He crinkled the bag, and instantly, the sounds of thundering paws filled the house. In seconds, the first cat—a huge, lanky orange shorthair with black spots—skidded into the kitchen. Hot on its heels, another that was identical, if slightly smaller. And behind them, the dog.
I laughed as Samir tossed them each a treat. Shouka snapped them out of the air. The cats stood up on their hind legs, caught the treats between their front paws, and ate them.
“Did you train them to do that?”
“Kind of.” He chuckled and tossed one more to each animal before putting the bag away. “Mehrang kept doing it”—he gestured at the smaller cat—“and Nima caught on.”
“Are they friendly?”
“Oh yeah. Just don’t be surprised if they start climbing on you. Like, literally.”
“Duly noted.” I crouched and held out my hand. The smaller cat was closest and craned his neck to sniff. And then I discovered that Samir hadn’t been exaggerating about them climbing on me. The bigger cat leaped onto the counter, then dropped down onto my back. I turned my head. “Uh. Hi?” He sniffed my nose.
“Told you.” Samir opened his mouth to say something else but froze. The dog’s head snapped toward the front of the house, tags jingling.
It only took a second to figure out what had caught their attention—a car engine.
Suddenly aware of the dog’s proximity to me and the twenty cat claws on my back, I said, “Should we maybe move him before the doorbell rings?”
Without a word, Samir lifted the cat off me and set him on the floor. I stood.
Samir’s dark skin had lightened a shade or two. His eyes were wide and his lips were tight. He’d been completely chill a minute ago, but not now.
I touched his arm. “Breathe. I’m here.”
He swallowed. Gaze fixed on the hallway as footsteps came up the walk, he nodded. “I know. Thank you.”
And then the doorbell rang.
The dog was off and running, barking her head off. The cats disappeared. So did another shade of Samir’s complexion.
“Wait here.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll, uh, go let him in.”
I nodded. He went to the door but didn’t hush the dog. She was still barking just as loudly as the air pressure changed with the opening of the door. There was some movement before Samir finally told the dog to be quiet.
“Kitchen,” he said sharply.
The dog trotted into the kitchen. I held out my hand, and when she stopped beside me, I petted her. She stared at the doorway, visibly tense.
Samir walked in. And behind him, Jesse.
Instantly, Jesse’s attention homed in on me, and his features hardened. “Who the fuck is this?”
Samir set his jaw. “Jesse, this is Elliott. Elliott, Jesse.”
Jesse glared at me. “Wait. I know you.” He wagged a finger at me. “You were there last night. At the club.” He turned to Samir, glare intensifying. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Samir pressed back against the counter and folded his arms
. “Jesse, we need to talk.”
“Yeah. We need to talk.” He pointed sharply at me. “Starting with you telling me what the fuck he’s—”
“He’s here to make sure you leave when this is over.”
Jesse blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I slept on it.” Samir tightened his arms across his chest. “And I stand by what I said last night—this is over.”
“What? Why?”
Samir’s eyes flicked toward me, his confidence wavering slightly. I gave him a reassuring nod, and he faced Jesse again. “Because I’m miserable. That’s why.”
“Oh for God’s sake.” Jesse sighed with palpable exasperation. “We just need to fix—”
“There’s nothing to fix, Jesse,” Samir snapped. Jesse and I both jumped, and Samir wasn’t done. “It’s not that we don’t spend enough time together. It’s not that I work too many hours so you have no choice but to cheat on me. It’s not that I get on your nerves so you have no alternative but to break something or smack me around.”
My chest tightened and my fists curled at my sides. Son of a bitch…
“We’re done,” Samir continued. “Everything of yours is in the living room.” He pointed toward the hallway. “Take it, get out, and don’t come back.”
Jesse gaped at him for a few long seconds. Then, slowly, something started to soften in his expression. He stepped closer, reaching for Samir’s waist. “Baby, come on. I know you’re mad about last night, but we both fucked up, you know? We just need—”
“No.” Samir put his hands up and sidestepped Jesse’s touch. “We just need to be done with it, okay?” He looked at me. One glance, and the message came through loud and clear.
As Jesse again tried to move in, I stepped between them.
“You heard him.” I folded my arms. “Get your shit and get out.”
He stared at me in disbelief, then laughed. “Seriously? You’re playing bouncer while I try to work shit out with my boyfriend?”
