by Beth Yarnall
“Am I? Let’s see… I now have a couch I can take a nap on without damaging vital organs. I have someone to take care of my cat. I now have a job I’m fairly good at. I don’t have to eat alone anymore. I now know there’s another type of bullet that has nothing to do with guns. I’m with someone my sister finally approves of. I have someone in my life who won’t fuck her personal trainer on the side and isn’t screwing me to get at my money. And my favorite: I’m owed about forty-seven orgasms.”
She laughed and it felt so good. “By my calculations I only owe you sixteen.”
“Fine. Look, I get that you’re independent. I’ve tried to respect that. But you can’t fault me for wanting to do nice things for you.”
“I’m not… I’m just not comfortable with how much you’ve done for me.”
“How about I take those sixteen orgasms and we call it even?”
She punched him in the shoulder. “Be serious.”
He chuckled and rubbed the spot. “Ouch.”
“Miyuki!” her mom yelled.
Both of their heads came up and she jumped out of his arms.
“Shit,” she muttered and headed down the hall. Halfway there, she turned. “I mean it. Cut it out with all the nice stuff for a while.”
“All right,” he grumbled. “But as soon as those sixteen orgasms are paid up the moratorium is off.”
Insufferable man, she mumbled to herself as she headed down the hall to see her mother. But damn he could make her laugh and sigh in ecstasy better than any man she’d ever known. She shouldn’t think about tomorrow. She shouldn’t think past the sixteen orgasms she owed him. Oh, how she wanted to though.
She didn’t find her mom in the bathroom. “Mom?” She looked in her room, then the spare bedroom. She finally found Faye hunched down on the floor next to the bassinet, rocking back and forth. “Mom,” she whispered, kneeling down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Ethan.” She grabbed the front of Mi’s shirt, pulling Mi toward her. “You did something to him,” Faye spat, twisting Mi’s shirt in her fist, drawing her off balance. Her blue eyes, dark with anxiety, gave her an almost feral look.
Oh, God. “He’s okay. I didn’t do anything to him.”
“Then the devil has him. I know it.” She jerked on Mi’s shirt. “Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not, Mom. I swear. He’s okay. Nobody’s got him.”
Mi should have expected it, but Faye was too quick. The crack to the cheek sent Mi against the wall. Her head hit hard and she slid to the floor. Then her mom was on her, pinning Mi’s arms down with her legs.
“You were always a terrible liar,” Faye spat, wrapping her hands around Mi’s throat. “It’s your fault. All of it’s your fault.”
Mi kicked, trying to buck her mother off, but Faye was bigger, stronger.
“You killed Ronin!” her mother yelled, digging her fingers into her daughter’s neck. “I hate you! I hate you!”
In the next instant Mi was freed. She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, gasping and choking. Lucas bent down to her, holding a kicking and screaming Faye around the middle with one arm.
“Mi! Holy shit. Are you all right?” He turned her toward him, his gaze locked on the marks on her throat. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m calling an ambulance.”
She grabbed a hold of his pant leg. “No,” she croaked out.
He wrestled Faye to the ground, placing a knee on her back, holding both of her hands in his in a tight grip. “She tried to kill you.”
Mi rose up on her elbow, fingering her sore neck. “No ambulance,” she wheezed.
“She needs to be locked up, Mi. She tried to kill you, for fuck’s sake. I don’t care if she is your mother, she belongs in jail.”
Panic flooded back into Mi’s system, making it harder to breath. Specks floated before her eyes. “No!” she managed. “No police. No.” She wrapped her arms around his leg, holding on for all she was worth. “Promise me. No.”
“Querida,” he moaned. “Don’t ask this. You’re hurt. She hurt you.”
“I’m fine.” She used his leg to haul herself up to a sitting position and leaned against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”
He pulled out his cell phone and began dialing.
“No!” She batted it out of his hand. “No police, Lucas. I swear to God if you call the police we are over.” She drew back, breathing hard, meaning every word she said. He had no idea what was at stake. She hadn’t worked so goddamned hard the last thirteen years to let him fuck it up now. “No police.”
He looked at her as if he didn’t know her, couldn’t believe what she’d become. Her words seemed to freeze him. Behind his stare she could see him weighing the truth of her threat. She held her breath ready to back up her words with action. Mi’s gaze cut to her mom, who quietly sobbed into the carpet her eyes pinched shut.
Oh, God. Mi made a move to crawl to her mother, but Lucas put a hand up, stopping her.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” he snarled.
Mi sat back, and their face-off continued. Dark eyes bored into hers. A sob hiccupped in her throat as the enormity of what had just happened came crashing down around her in big flaming chunks. Her mother had tried to kill her. Jesus. Fuck. She thunked her head against the wall once, twice, trying to dislodge the memory of her mother’s face above hers, murder in her eyes.
“Stop that,” he commanded.
“She tried to kill me,” Mi whispered, the words torn from deep inside her. She covered her face with her hands and broke down, drawing her legs up tight. “She ac-ca-cused me of k-k-killing my dad.”
“Fuck me,” he breathed, sitting down hard on the floor.
Mi pulled her hands away from her face and glared at her mother. “Why, Mom? Why? Why did you do that? Why do you hate me so much?” Her tears flowed freely, hot and full of shame. “What did I do wrong? What did I ever do?”
Faye stared back from her place on the floor, her gaze empty and searching. Lucas hauled Faye up and marched her out into the hall, leaving Mi’s words ringing hollowly in the empty room.
Mi dropped her head onto her knees. It was all so fucked up. Lucas, her mom, her brother, all of the people who mattered. She had nothing and no one. She was alone with her secret.
“Querida.” He picked her up and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding against her cheek. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do for you.”
She clutched the front of his shirt, bringing his face down to hers. “No police. Promise me.”
“Why? You have to tell me why.”
“Don’t make me chose.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She pounded a fist ineffectually against his chest. “Promise me.”
“Mi—” he began to protest, but stopped when he saw the fierce look on her face. She’d left him no choice. He nodded, his face set in rigid lines. “I promise.”
She sagged against him. “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his hard-set lips. “Thank you.”
He set her away from him. “She ever lays a fucking hand on you again—” He let the threat hang in the air between them unsaid, but it was as real as if he’d written it in blood. His gaze dropped to her neck where he lightly traced the marks her mother’s hands had made. The space between his brows creased in a deep frown, his jaw ticking from being clenched so tightly.
“Where is she?”
He glanced up, surprised. “I locked her in the closet. Why?”
“What?” She tried to scramble off his lap, but he held her fast.
“Stop it.”
“I need to see her.”
“Hell, no.” He held her tighter, burrowing his face in her shoulder.
“I have to see if she’s okay.”
“She’s fine. Give it a minute.”
She realized he was trembling. This big man who had seen battle, quaked as badly as she did. She held onto him, burning wit
h a mixture of shame and regret. Shame for what he’d seen and regret for not being able to choose him above all else.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse. It wasn’t enough. She could apologize a thousand times and it would never erase what had happened in this room. It would never be enough. He should run, just go as far as and fast away from her as he could. “Oh, Lucas. I’m so sorry. You deserve better. I can’t be what you need. What you deserve.”
“Shut up.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have tried to do this. I just wanted you so much. Even knowing it would end. I don’t have any regrets. I hope… please don’t hate me. Please know how much I…”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.
Leaning her back over his arm, he kissed her, sealing her words away. He was rough, kissing her as though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance again. She absorbed his heat, his anger, his fear and frustration, wishing it all away. He held the back of her head in his hand, fastening her to him. The other hand crept under her shirt and splayed across her back. She moaned into his mouth, aroused despite the circumstances, but that didn’t seem to please him.
He pulled his hand out, parking it on her hip, and broke the kiss. “Damn it.” He looked down at her and all she saw was sadness, his dark eyes shining like slick black pools.
“I’m sorry,” she said
“Stop saying that.”
“But I am.”
“When we get home—”
“Nothing’s going to change,” she broke in.
“—we’re going to sit down and figure this out.”
“It’s not your problem,” she insisted.
He stood up and set her back down on the bed. Fisting his hands in his hair, he paced away, then back again. He stopped and pointed a finger at her. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Do you hear me?”
“But it’s true.”
“The fuck it is.”
“Lucas, stop. You can’t fix this.”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “And you can? How’s your way working so far? Your fix almost got you killed.”
Sucking in a breath, she flinched as if he’d hit her. “Screw you.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Do you know what seeing her on top of you, her hands wrapped around your throat, did to me? Do you?”
“I don’t care.”
“It fucking scared the shit out of me.” He gave her a little shake. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Why not? What do you care? What does anybody care? My own mother hates me.”
“Why do I care?”
She tried to break free from his hold. “Just forget it.”
He let her go. “Damn it, Mi. Don’t you get it?”
“I said forget it.”
He brought her face around to his, made her look him in the eye. “I more than care, Querida.”
Tears spilled over her cheeks. He kissed them, murmuring to her in Spanish. When he’d kissed them all, he put his forehead to hers, smoothing his thumbs over the last of her tears. “Don’t you get it, you crazy, sexy, infuriating, beautiful woman? I love you.” He laughed as though he’d only just discovered that fact. “I fucking love you. And I don’t care if you don’t love me back right now. We’re going home and we’re going to figure this out. Do you hear me?”
He’d stunned her into silence. She could only stare at him, her jaw slack, her heart beating a rhythm that pounded in her ears. What had she done? She could live the rest of her life without him, alone, loving him so much she ached with it. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that he could love her back.
If it were only her mom she’d been protecting, she wouldn’t bother to do it anymore. Her mother was beyond her help and protection, but there was someone else. Someone who still needed her to keep the secret. Someone who deserved her silence.
So Mi kept quiet when all she wanted to do was scream.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I hope she’ll be okay at Jason’s,” Mi said, casting a wary glance at her mother sitting at the kitchen table, rocking the spare doll Mi had stashed away.
Lucas looked at the older woman and suppressed the urge that rode him hard. He’d never wanted to kill anyone in his life. He’d killed, but he never wanted to do it. Never fired his gun, used his hands or wielded a weapon with the burning desire to end a life. His mind kept flashing images at him of Mi helpless and dying, her mother’s hands around her throat, Mi gasping for air, the marks on her neck. And his blood lust simmered.
He got that Mi’s mom was mentally ill and he felt bad about that. But he also wanted to call the men in white coats and have her carted away. Faye obviously needed help, possibly medication, but for whatever reason Mi wouldn’t allow that. She had been right about the doll calming Faye down. But for how long? How long until she went for Mi or someone else again? What if he wasn’t there next time?
“I think she should stay here. She’s stayed here before several times and some of… Ethan’s things are here for her,” Mi said.
As much as he hated Faye Easely for what she’d done to Mi, he couldn’t let her stay in Mi’s house. “It’s not safe here. Gann could come back. What if he used your mother to get to you?”
“Oh, God. I didn’t think of that.”
“Why can’t she go to your brother’s?”
She looked at her mother, biting her lip, and all Lucas could think was: Who the hell is she protecting? Why is she willing to risk their relationship and her life to protect them?
“I guess there’s no other choice.” She didn’t meet his gaze, had hardly looked at him at all since he’d blurted out that he fucking loved her.
Way to go, Mr. Romance. Just what a woman wants to hear from a guy right after he stuck his tongue down her throat out of misplaced frustration. As a post near-death experience, his ass-hat attempt at romance was nothing short of brilliant. He’d kick his own ass if it was physically possible. I fucking love you. Sheer romantic genius, ya idiot.
“But we can’t tell him what happened,” she said.
He was really getting tired of hearing that. “Why the hell not? What if she goes for him or a neighbor?”
“She won’t.”
“How can you be sure? This is a bad idea. I should never have agreed not to call the police.”
“Look at her. As long as she has the doll she’ll be okay.”
“And the fire at her house?”
“She won’t do that again,” she said tightly. “Look, you don’t have to be involved.”
“Too late for that and I told you, I’m all in here so stop offering me a way out. You’re pissing me off.”
“Fine. Then we’ll take her to Jason’s—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that his mother tried to kill his sister.”
“Stop it.”
“Just hurry up and get her stuff and let’s get out of here.”
He watched Mi head down the hall, then turned to where her mother sat, singing a lullaby to a fucking doll. Easing down into the seat opposite Faye, Lucas looked at the woman who had given Mi life and who had also nearly taken it away. He wasn’t that big of a hard ass that he didn’t feel sorry for her. He could manage compassion, for fuck’s sake.
It was cruel of Mi and her brother not to get their mother help. He didn’t feel bad for thinking that. It was cruel. They’d let her illness have her. Left her trapped in a world where the calm of caring for her dead son’s substitute was punctuated by bouts of paranoia, violence, and pyromania. What kind of life was that? What kind of family were they? What kind of mother had Faye been before her son’s death? Surely it had been her infant son’s death that had triggered all of this. Otherwise, how could caring for the doll calm her so easily?
“You seem like a nice young man,” Faye said, batting her thickly coated eyelashes at him.
He started, not expecting her to speak to him.
He’d almost forgotten she was a person.
She sighed. “Miyuki is lovely isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“She takes after her father’s side. He was a wonderful man. I miss him very much.” Tears flooded her eyes and he found himself leaning toward her in sympathy. “Ronin was the love of my life and I hate to say it because a mother shouldn’t say these things about her children—” She covered the doll’s ears. “—but she’s my favorite. Always has been. I loved her father so much.” She swiped at a tear. “I thought I’d die when he did. Do you know what that’s like? Have you ever loved someone that much?”
He nodded. He loved her daughter that much.
“I can see you do. Good, because Miyuki needs that.” She looked down at the bundle in her arms, then back at him. “I know it’s a doll.”
“You do?” His voice cracked under the pressure of an unnamed emotion.
She looked back down at the doll and started rocking and singing again.
“I’m ready,” Mi said from behind him and he automatically reached for his gun, registering at the last moment that she wasn’t a threat.
He popped out of his chair and took the bags from her.
“Let me grab the bassinet. Oh, and I’ll need the car seat from my car,” Mi said, her gaze on her mother.
“Give me your keys and I’ll take care of it. You stay here.” He looked back at Faye over his shoulder.
Mi opened a drawer in the kitchen and took out her spare key. “Here.” She offered him the key, then shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ll go get the bassinet.” She spun on her heel, leaving him holding a diaper bag and suitcase.
He didn’t think twice about what he was doing. If he had, he’d likely have walked out the front door and kept right on walking. He was so far out of his depth, so far outside of ordinary that he’d need a new frame of reference for normal. He tried not to think about that as he unbuckled the car seat from Mi’s car, buckled it into the backseat of his extended cab, and put the bassinet Mi gave him into the bed of his truck.
He watched as Mi took ‘Ethan’ from her mother and strapped him into the car seat, then he helped them both into the truck and they were on their way. He’d noticed that Mi had tied a scarf around her neck in the middle of fucking summer. A scarf. To hide the bruises. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. But most of all he wanted to punch the shit out of something.
