Shaking those thoughts away, I smile at the cashier as I put all my loot on the conveyor belt. We make small talk, mainly about the weather as I wait to pay. When I try and run my card, Dax slaps my hand away and swipes his card instead. I stare at him; I can’t believe he just swatted my hand away from paying for the food that I planned on cooking for him. Hands-on my hips, I glare at him. His little smile doesn’t go unnoticed either. “Woman, when you’re with me, you don’t pay.” He tells me like that is supposed to help. It doesn’t go unnoticed from the cashier either. She looks like she is still in school.
“Damn, you are lucky.” She winks at me as she hands him the receipt. I huff out my exasperation as I take control of the buggy. This is not something I am used to, and frankly, I don’t like the idea that he demands to pay for everything. Call it what you will, but I have only relied on myself for so long. It is the one thing that I can control in my life, what I pay for. It may seem that I have my own life put together on the outside but on the inside, I am in a constant struggle.
Just because someone looks put together, owns a smile, claims everything is fine and okay, doesn’t mean they indeed are. I don’t know how to ask for help. Sure I got to therapy, but when I ask for help, all I get are medications. I guess that is a help, but I hate having to rely on a pill to make me healthy. I want to feel, but at the same time, I don’t want to. It is a real struggle daily. Something I have learned to live with. Either I am drowning, or I am cruising along, never feeling a thing. There is no in-between for me. It is tiresome, and nearly every night, I am tired, but then my mind goes flying down the runway and won’t let me get any sleep. My life is a vicious cycle. So having the one constant, the one norm in my life, paying for my own groceries and my personal things taken away, nearly brings me to my knees.
Pushing the buggy out to my car, Dax doesn’t say a word as I load the groceries into the trunk of the vehicle. Slamming the trunk lid harder than I should. I refuse to look at him, I feel too damn much right now, and I want it to fucking stop. “Babe, look at me,” shaking my head, I move to put away the buggy, but he stops me. One large tattooed hand, at the end of the cart, I try to move it around his big body, but he steps in front of it again. Frustrated, I throw my hands up and turn around to go back to my car. I can hear his boots hitting the pavement behind me, but I don’t stop. I need space to get my head back on straight.
In romance novels, the heroine wants something like this to happen. Some of the women I have heard around town and my own mother, they all love it when a man pays for their shit. Maybe I am more broken than I thought I was. Hell, here I am about to have a fucking breakdown, why? Because he paid for my shit. Shaking my head, I open my door. Before I can get in the car, the door shuts, and Dax has me pinned against the door.
“Words, Chloe. Talk to me.” trying to keep my eyes downcast. Should have known he wouldn’t let that happen. Gently although forceful, Dax lifts my chin up to face him. “Fuck, babe.” Jerking my jaw out of his grasp.
“Don’t. Just leave it,” I tell him. There is nothing he can do or say. This is just a typical day in the life of Chloe. Only now, someone else is seeing me at my lowest. Not what I wanted, the last time didn’t go over well. Taking a deep breath, I shove everything down deep, as far down as I can put all of the feelings that are tearing me up can go. Plastering on one of my best smiles. “Ready?” I ask him. The look on his face, confusion. Yep welcome to the club buddy.
Chapter 15
Jag
I don’t know what in the hell just happened. One minute everything is going right, and then all hell breaks loose. She never says a word, just tears ass out of the store. When I make her look at me, the look of pure anguish in her eyes guts me.
I have seen that look many times in my line of work. But never has it affected me like it did when I looked in Chloe’s deep brown eyes. I wanted to hurt whoever put that pain in her, my sweet innocent Chloe. She shouldn’t ever have that look. She should be all smiles, happy, ready to take what is hers... The world. I knew somehow I put it there. I didn’t have the first clue on how to fix it, to make it go away. I am not a fixer, I am a destroyer. I am the one that is brought in to take monsters out. To make people pay, not fix.
The most fucked up part, it was gone as quick as it was there. I let it go for the time being. I allowed Chloe to get back into the car. I had a feeling that she was going to tell me off to tell me to forget about dinner. Glad that she didn’t, but now, now I wanted to know what put that look in her eyes, and for some fucked up reason, I wanted to try and fix it. I needed to fix it. I knew deep down that if she didn’t want the help, I couldn’t do shit, but damn it all to hell, I was going to try. But fuck, I couldn’t even fix myself. How I the hell could I help her?
Pulling in to her driveway brought a smile to my face thinking about being her neighbor, getting small glimpses of her fine ass. What got me the most was watching her bend over, like she is now, to get the bag out of the trunk. Her ass had me in a trance as I sat on my bike just watching her. Shaking my head, swinging my leg over the bike, I helped Chloe carry the bags inside.
The greeting at the door and watching as Chloe greeted her companion brought a smile to my face, seeing her genuine smile. Not the one she gave me in the parking lot. She was covering something up, something dark. I knew what darkness looked like. I saw it every time I looked at my reflection. With Chloe, though, it didn’t feel the same. More like something, she was fighting on the inside. Not that she was shaped by the demons around her. Her beast was her own. She was hiding hers and doing it well. I bet no one knew what she was battling. Today was the first glimpse that I had seen.
“It shouldn’t take me long to get things ready.” I watched her more closely. Chloe’s actions the way she pretended to be happy. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. I bet it had been there this whole time. She was good at hiding the pain, but I was better at watching and learning a person’s tells.
“Need any help?” shaking her head, she rummages through a worn end table drawer. She hands me the remote. I didn’t think much from the first time I was in her home. But I liked the fact that she didn’t need materialistic items to be happy. Everything was secondhand in her living room. The table was even worn. I knew how much she was worth, and yet she lived like any average individual doing the daily grind.
“Here, watch something on TV.” She walks off to the kitchen. I haven’t watched TV in a long time, and I wasn’t about to start now. Following her into the kitchen, I sat at the island. It was time to get some answers.
“How long?” I ask, not adding more, to see if she was going to throw me off the chase or not.
“How long what?” She still hasn’t looked at me as she gets the pots out for dinner.
“How long have you have your own demons?” No sense in beating around the bush with this. I was going to get answers one way or another. Without missing a beat, Chloe ignores the question and fills up the pot with water. Throwing the chicken into the skillet before she even glances at me. I can wait her out; I am the enforcer after all for a reason.
“Why? Why do you even care?” She throws back at me. At least we are getting somewhere. Why would she even have to ask?
“Why does it matter?” I can see the spark in her eyes as they collide with mine. The hurt flashes there for a millisecond, then it is gone like before.
“Your right, no one cares. It’s been a long time.” If she thinks that is all she going to give me, then she is wrong. But I can tell I shouldn’t push her. I can see now how fragile she is. She is keen to deal with this by herself but yet delicate. Like a ticking time bomb fragile. One wrong move and BOOM. Everything goes up. I can see the countdown in her eyes. She is on a one-way course to destruction. Now it makes sense why her therapist wants her to try my kind of scene. I can give her that release, a release from her own demons.
“Chloe, a lot of people care about you. Trinia is one. The girls at the club and I care too.” She nods her head while
clenching her jaw tight. So tight, I’m worried about her molars. I keep quiet as I watch her move around the kitchen. We don’t talk as she makes the salad, slicing up the tomatoes, adding the cheese, carrot shreds, and croutons. Chloe sets out two plates on the island and grabs two beers. Plating up the food, we sit in silence as we eat. I can feel her shutting down on me. For some fucked up reason, I can’t let that happen.
“Damn, this is good.” The Chicken Alfredo is good, damn good. I never was one for a salad, but hell, even it is good.
“Thank you.” she smiles a real smile. I feel about ten feet tall when I see that.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Her smile gets bigger on her face, reaching her eyes. Damn, that look goes straight to my dick.
“Believe it or not, my father. He would always say that cooking was an art form. That to be good at painting, I needed to explore all forms of art.” She was beaming with pride when she was done telling me.
“Well, Babe, you can feed me your art any day.” I give her a wink when she looks at me. I don’t miss the slight pink stain on her cheeks. Damn, I could get used to seeing that pink on her cheeks every day.
“You know where to find me.” The full smile playing on her lips and the deep pink on her cheeks gives me a funny feeling in my chest. It is not entirely painful, but I have never felt this before.
“Is that an invite to come as I please?” I have to know, I must know.
“Yes,” one word seals my fate. I know with certainty that Chloe Bowman, who should be off-limits for me, has become an addiction. I will be here every fucking day until she kicks me to the curb.
“Good.”
“So, has your house sold yet?” That question takes me by surprise. This time there isn’t any pain in her eyes.
“Not yet, but there is a buyer interested.”
“That is good, I guess.” She toys with her salad on the plate. There seems to be something she wants to ask me but just hasn’t yet.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, I mean, well, I told myself I didn’t need any answers. But Dax, it bothers me that you don’t like touch. Like the why?” I knew that this would come up. Taking a breath in, I let it out slowly. I hate this part of me, I hate that I let him get to me, to the point that the one thing I should like, I can’t stand. “You don’t…have to tell me anything if you don’t want, maybe when you're ready.” She is watching me closely, I can’t tell her this while her beautiful soul searching eyes are on me.
Pushing away from the island, I walk over to the sliding glass door, looking out at the pool, that I don’t see when my memories come crashing back to me. “You ever have that memory that won’t leave you no matter what?” I start off with it. Chloe doesn’t answer me, there is no answer needed. “I have several memories that don’t want to let go. My step-dad he was is a monster. My mother realized it and ran. She ran, but she left me behind with the beast. The beast that destroyed me from the inside out. First, it was little jabs, words. But after a while, that wasn’t enough, words didn’t do enough damage.” I leave it at that she doesn’t need to know the extent of the damage that the monster did to me. The demons he gave me to harbor that nag and dig in the dark recess of my mind.
By getting the release that I do through sex, it helps to keep the demons at bay. I try to not let them out to play often, only when necessary. The shit that I went through as a child followed me into my adult years and has only got worse.
Chloe seems to be the balm, the only one that I have found. And trust me; I have been looking for something to help me through the years. The constant struggle with my inner self is daily. Always waiting for the darkness in others to come out, still searching for faults, always ready to kill.
But with her around, I feel calm, at peace. I feel like I can finally breathe through the shitstorm I call life. Shaking my head from my thoughts, I turn around to my personal Angel. That is what she is, after all. I may not be a religious man, but I do know that Angels chase the demons away, using their light to force them back into the darkness where they belong. That is what she is doing to me, pushing my demons away.
I shouldn’t want to continue this with Chloe, just because it helps me. But I am a selfish man too. I have needs that she meets. From the loud moans and screams from the other night, I would say that I meet her needs also.
“Dax, I- I don’t know what to say. I would say I’m sorry, but that doesn’t cut it.” Looking into her deep brown depths, I can see the unshed tears in her eyes. I have never seen empathy in another human being, at least not directed to me.
I close the distance between us. “Babe, don’t. I lived, although a bit fucked up. But I’m here.” I tell her as I run a finger down her soft cheek. I can tell she wants to do the same, but I am not ready. Every time someone touches me like that, I get flashbacks of what that bastard did to me. I give her the next best thing that I can; I put her head on my chest and kiss the top of her head. Closing my eyes, I get lost in my head. Chloe deserves more than I can give, so much fucking more. I can only bring her sexual pleasure, not emotional. I don’t know how to love; I don’t know how to even begin a real relationship.
Sure, I can do exclusive. I don’t need a stable of women to keep me happy. One woman is enough for me. Chloe is unique though, she brings me peace, something I haven’t had in years if I ever had it to begin with. I can give her a good life; I know she has money, lots of money. But I have enough to take care of her. I can build her a house if she wants. I can keep her protected from the bad in this world. But emotions I don’t have a clue on.
Chloe pulls away from me and goes to sit on the couch. She looks so sad sitting there with her legs pulled up under her. Her big brown eyes pooling with tears as she looks anywhere but at me. I can feel panic set in, maybe giving her a small glimpse inside my past has run off my Angel. Before I can say anything, her voice breaks through my thoughts.
“When I was younger, I knew my father loved me, but I always questioned my mother’s feelings for me. She never gave me goodnight kisses or hugs. She always had this look on her face like I was beneath her. I guess I was, to her. Neither one of them knew that I knew. I found out when I was sixteen, that the woman I call mother, was, in fact, a stepmother. My real mother, Stella Elaine Hightower, passed away when I was born.” I already had a clue, her birth certificate stated as much. But I could understand the devastation of learning that tidbit. I don’t say anything as she continues.
“It broke me, you know. Finally, getting the answer as to why Savannah hated me. She was raising another woman’s child. Not just any woman’s child, but one born from a mistress. I was a constant reminder to her of what my father did. When I confronted my father about it, he just- well, he gave his reasons. I don’t agree with them, but I understand now. I shouldn’t justify what he did, but I guess I always knew the monster she was, deep down.” She doesn’t know the truth of how depraved her step-mother is, not yet.
Savannah Bowman wasn’t a saint herself. She had plenty of extra-marital affairs. There also was not a prenup, of course, there wouldn’t have been. He wasn’t rich yet when they married. But her relationships started before, even before the money. But she had something on him all this time; I just need to figure out what it was. My mind races every night, thinking about what she has. Why it so damn crucial that Chloe marries for money instead of love. That is what this woman sitting before me deserves, to be loved, cherished, and reminded daily that she matters.
“I’m guessing that your father loved you and reminded you daily,” I tell her. The tears are gone now, but her head snaps up with a quivering smile.
“Yeah, he did. He didn’t have to tell me, I just knew he did. The little trips we took when I was small, the art lessons he gave me. I can’t complain that I didn’t have a good upbringing. But what is messed up, even though she treated me less than, I still loved her. Apparently, that is why I have issues.” Rubbing her face with her hands, she gets up from the couch, a fake smile plaster
ed on her lips. Damn, I never would have… No, she doesn’t have any issues. She is damn near perfection.
“Issues, Chloe, I don’t see anything wrong with you.” I mean it, the way she handles herself if she did have anything wrong with her no one would ever know.
“Remember, I told you we all have demons. Some are just easier to chase off than others.” She leaves me standing in between the living area and the kitchen. I can hear her washing up the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. Before I can go to her my phone rings.
Pulling it out of my pocket, I see Bricks name flash on the screen. Fuck, I forgot about him wanting to get this meeting out of the way. Walking out back, I close the sliding door behind me.
“Jag,” I bark out.
“Jag, man, we got a problem.” Brick tells me in a rush. Narrowing my eyes, different scenarios go through my head.
“What's up?”
“The Grimm’s didn’t wait for the meeting. Man, they hit the clubhouse.” Running a hand down my face, I try to calm the storm brewing behind my eyes.
“How bad is the damage?” How did the bastards get past the gates? Did they kill one of the prospects to get to us? Was anyone hurt or worse?
“They shot up Korey’s bug, got a few holes into the wall.”
“How in the fuck did they get past the prospect?”
“They killed the prospect at the gate. Man shit is heating up and fast. Need you here, brother. Going on lockdown. Might want to bring your woman back here too.” Blowing out a breath, lockdown. Something that we all hate to have to do.
“Fuck, be there in a few. We will get these assholes where it hurts the most.” I say as I end the call.
Chasing Demons (Angels and Sinners Book 3) Page 11
