by Marie James
I want to kick myself for being so blind to his arrogance, egotism, and narcissism for so long. This man is toxic. He’s a controlling coward, and although he’s never raised a hand to strike me, I don’t doubt that he would, eventually. He’d have no other recourse when the words he used as weapons were no longer effective.
“Any other snide comments you feel like making about my appearance?” I snap, my lip twitching in irritation now rather than humor.
His eyes fill with fake sympathy as he reaches across the table to clasp my hands. I pull them back and place them in my lap, refusing to let him touch me.
“Cynthia left me.” He says this with as much emotion as I feel toward him right now, which is a tablespoon short of a teaspoon.
I don’t respond to him, but on the inside, I’m throwing that woman a party all the while praying for the sanity of the next girl he lures in with his bright eyes and winning smile.
“I miss you, and I want us to work things out.”
I scoff at his declaration.
“You don’t miss me. You need someone to be at your beck and call. You want someone to be waiting for you when you get home like they can’t breathe until you arrive and chip them off a little piece of your attention. You want a maid and a cook, and someone to rant to when you’ve been overlooked for another promotion by the person who always works harder than you. You want someone to agree with you when you complain about being discriminated against even though you’re nothing more than an entitled, wealthy, white man who doesn’t understand the privileges afforded to him just by breathing air.”
Jason looks at me with his jaw hanging slightly open, but he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t argue or counter my claims. I think I’ve stunned him. I’ve never said such things to him, never stood up for myself, or put his own flaws on display the way he did to me so readily and often.
“You don’t want me, Jason, and things haven’t been good between us for a long time.”
“You promised to marry me,” he finally mutters. “You agreed to be my wife.”
“You put me on the spot in the middle of your company’s Fourth of July bash. That wasn’t for me. It was for a show, another way for you to be the center of attention among your bosses and coworkers.”
“You said yes.”
“I regretted it the second the word fell from my lips.”
“You love me.”
“I loved you,” I clarify. “And that love died long ago.”
“Is this because of him?”
I don’t even have to ask who he’s talking about. He’s well aware of where I’ve been the last couple of weeks.
“This is because you’re bitter and hateful. This is because I deserve more than you’ll ever have to offer. You need to work on yourself and your own character flaws before you can even begin to be truly happy or make someone feel loved by you. I’m not arm candy. I’m not invisible except for the times when showing me off benefits you.”
He doesn’t have a rebuttal as I stand.
“Goodbye, Jason.”
A couple of women clap as I leave the diner, and my cheeks flush as I realize my voice had gotten louder and louder as I continued to speak to him. Pride fills my chest as I walk to the parking lot to climb into my dad’s waiting car. I feel invincible. I feel powerful, and I can finally breathe deep without choking on that freedom.
“Where to, Mija?” Dad asks as he waits for me to put my seatbelt on.
“To the mall. I have some demons to conquer.”
Chapter 27
Scooter
Two weeks of silence.
Two weeks of misery.
Two weeks of utter boredom.
My will to give Mia space is running dry.
At night I toss and turn, wondering if she’s back in his arms. Max feeds me morsels of information, and I eat them up like a starving child, but it doesn’t keep my mind from taking over and running wild.
He said she and Jason are over, but he didn’t give me any more information than that. I can’t help but wonder if Jason is wooing her, begging her to take him back. It’s what I would do. I don’t think I could take no from her lips as a final answer. I’d do anything in my power to win her back.
Cerberus left three days ago on a mission to South Africa, and even though I’m still under clubhouse arrest for lack of a better description, Kincaid didn’t exclude me from the meetings when they were gearing up to go.
The good news is that the CIA has no plans to bring formal charges against me for shooting Gabriella Butler. They aren’t very happy about not being able to interrogate her, but as it turns out, both Jiménez and the Cortez brothers were astute businessmen. They ran their sex trafficking organization the way most fortune five hundred companies operated, and that meant there was a ton of documentation and evidence left behind. They killed the women but didn’t burn the records and money lines. Cerberus has jobs lined up for months, not to bring a specific woman home, but missions to continue cutting the heads off snakes.
South America has been a hotbed for the illegal sex trade for decades, but South Africa is also a hub of activity, and according to the confiscated records, that’s where the Cortezs’ were shipping many of their women off to.
“She’s okay,” Jasmine whispers when Max heads to the kitchen to grab them a snack.
Her phone pings another text message, and Dominic’s daughter smiles down at her phone.
“You’re texting with her right now?” I ask, excitement filling my blood and making me feel alive for the first time in the last two weeks. “Let me see.”
She glares at me as she clutches her phone to her chest. “Not likely.”
“What time does the game start?” Max asks as he comes back carrying two different kinds of chips and a jar of baby dill pickles.
Jasmine scoffs. “Like I freaking know.”
“Kingston may be gone right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t spank that pretty little ass of yours,” he whispers too loudly in her ear.
Jasmine’s eyes find mine, and her cheeks flush red with embarrassment when she realizes that I heard what her man just said to her. I don’t understand the dynamic between the three of them, but it works for them. Her dad seems okay with it, so I don’t have an opinion, not that I would if Dominic was opposed. I’m all for grown people doing what makes them happy so long as they don’t hurt anyone else.
“Still got fifteen minutes,” I mutter as I look down at the empty screen of my own cell phone.
I should text her, but the possibility that she may not text me back, combined with the fact that she’s clearly texting Jasmine, would kill me. Her being too busy to respond is one thing. Outright ignoring me would put me in a headspace I don’t think I’d handle very well right now.
The TV is on, but none of us are watching it. Max and I are both watching Jasmine for totally different reasons, and she’s focused on the cell phone in her hand. I wonder how fast Max’s reflexes are, and if he’s armed. I’m contemplating snatching her phone just to see what Mia has texted her over the last two weeks, but before I commit, my own cell phone chimes.
My elated heart nearly thuds to a stop when I see that Kirsty has sent a message, not Mia.
I block her number without even reading the entire message. Clearly, she didn’t get the message weeks ago at the party, and I don’t have the patience to explain to a now sober Kirsty what I said when she was drunk. She’s at the clubhouse too often for it to be the last time I’ll run into her. I just hope that she gets the hint that I’m not interested between now and the next time.
A second run-in won’t be as pleasant for her. Just a phone call between Kirsty and I sent Mia out of this clubhouse into the freezing weather. She could’ve ended up hurt or worse that night. I won’t risk hurting her, even indirectly, ever again. I don’t want passing looks or flirtations to be misconstrued by the girl I’m planning to convince to spend her life with me. If that means living like a monk and cutting all ties from every othe
r chick who graced my bed, then so be it.
“Turn up the volume,” Max urges when Jasmine’s phone pings over and over.
“Calm down,” she tells him with a bright smile on her face. “The game hasn’t even started yet.”
He gives her a look of warning, but all it does is make her blush and squirm in her seat. I have no doubt that the headboard in Kingston’s old room will be slamming against our shared wall tonight. Just what I need is an auditory reminder of what I haven’t had since long before Christmas.
It’s not that I even miss sex. Yeah, I want to do everything under the sun with Mia when she’s ready, but I miss her body heat, her head on my chest, and the soft whisper of her breath on my skin as she sleeps. If I had that from her for the rest of my life, I could die a happy man.
“What’s got you so twisted up, man?”
I don’t even bother looking over at Max. He knows exactly what’s wrong with me, and I don’t think he’s taunting me, but until he saw me turn Kirsty down after getting the news that Mia had left, he hated my guts. His sister clung to me for comfort rather than him, and I know that ate him alive. He sees me do one decent thing, and all of a sudden, we’re best pals? Hardly.
I wouldn’t even be in the living room with these two lovebirds if my room wasn’t closing in on me. I’ve always wanted to be a part of a team. It’s why I played football in high school and why I joined the Marine Corps. It’s why Cerberus is so appealing to me.
There’s nothing worse than feeling lonely even when you’re around other people, and I’ve had more than my fair share over the last two weeks. At least Jinx was talking to me again before they left for South Africa. We haven’t really sat down and had a heart-to-heart about what happened, but at least he doesn’t walk out of the room when I speak to him now. I disappointed all the guys, but Jinx, being the one in the room with me with a bird’s-eye view of the way I treated Jiménez, was hit the hardest.
I lost a lot of their respect, and I know it’s going to be a struggle for them to trust me again if I’m ever allowed back out in the field with them. I’ll work my ass off for that to happen. I’m not ready to give up on Cerberus, and I pray they haven’t given up on me either.
The game finally starts, and even with as much enthusiasm as Max had to watch this game, he seems only to be able to concentrate on Jasmine. I understand everything about that, though. If Mia were here, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but her either.
The sound of a car outside draws my attention, but neither Max nor Jasmine seem concerned. The clubhouse is the only thing on this stretch of road, and it ends in a dead-end less than a mile past, with all property on either side belonging to Cerberus.
It’s not unheard of for people to get turned around or to drive by to get a look at the clubhouse, so I stand from the sofa and make my way to the front door, praying it isn’t a group of people looking for a party. We never announce when we’re gone because we know that the women are here mostly alone, and that means people will occasionally stop by to see if the lot is filled.
It isn’t a lost car, but a taxi that’s idling at the front of the property. When I look back at Jasmine, she has a sly look on her pretty face, and it only serves to ramp up my heart rate as I wait to see who is climbing out of the car.
Chapter 28
Mia
The plane ride home was even easier for me to deal with than the one I flew out on two weeks ago.
Fourteen days doesn’t seem like a long period of time, but for me, those days were life-changing.
The cabbie doesn’t seem impressed that I’m just sitting in the car looking at the front of the clubhouse as he glares at me in the rearview mirror, but other than a loud sigh, he hasn’t told me to get out.
I’m not waffling between staying or leaving. I know I’m getting out of this car, but it’s what happens after that keeps me glued to the seat for a few minutes longer.
I don’t have to wait long to see how I’ll react to seeing Ryan again after what has seemed like forever because he opens the front door and stands on the threshold. Jasmine knew I was coming, but I begged her not to tell anyone. I’m sure Max knows because she doesn’t keep anything from him, but from the look on Ryan’s face as he tries to determine who’s in the cab, she kept the news from him.
“Lady?” the cabbie finally grunts. “Are we staying, or are we leaving?”
I don’t fault the man for wanting to get on his way, but I’m also mildly annoyed that he’s rushing my moment. Doesn’t he know how important this little slice of time is? Of course, he doesn’t, and why should he? I was silent the entire drive from the airport, and he’s now over an hour away from his normal area. I swipe my debit card through the reader and open the cab door.
Pulling the handle of the single suitcase I traveled with behind me, I climb out of the cab, never taking my eyes off of Ryan. His face is unreadable. He doesn’t rush off the front porch and swing me around in his arms as I imagined. He doesn’t frown and yell like the other scenario I created in my head. He just stands there, impassive as the cab drives away, leaving me standing in the parking lot immediately questioning if I made the right or wrong decision.
“Emmalyn said I was welcome back,” I tell him.
He doesn’t answer me, but that strong jaw of his tenses in response. I want to run my fingers down his face, brush my lips against his, confess everything I’ve been too scared to admit to myself until very recently.
I do none of those things, however. I shuffle my feet, piling the pea gravel with the tip of my boot, and try to figure out what my next move is going to be.
Cold air swirls around me, the ends of the scarf wrapped around my head fluttering in the breeze. I probably look a hot mess. The decision to come back here was just as hasty as the one when I chose to leave. I didn’t think it through, although I’ve known for days that this is where I want to be.
He hasn’t texted or called. He hasn’t tried to reach out at all, but neither have I. It’s not that I didn’t want to. I just knew I had to work through some serious things before I could concentrate on what I left behind, and as I stand here and watch his hands twitch at his sides, I wonder if that was the wrong move. Maybe I should’ve explained or left a note before leaving, but at the time, I didn’t know what was waiting for me in Louisiana. I didn’t know leaving Jason for good was going to be so easy and cathartic. I didn’t know that I’d find my strength and ability to persevere in the middle of the second night I tried to sleep at my parents’ house.
“It’s cold,” Ryan grunts. “Get inside.”
I nod, walking toward him with my small suitcase bumping along the gravel as I make my way toward him. He doesn’t stop in the living room once we enter. He heads for the hallway, and unlike the last time when I kept my distance when he ignored me, I follow right behind him, merely offering a quick wave to Jasmine and Max in the living room.
He’s sitting on his bed when I get to his room, and as not to be presumptuous, I leave my suitcase in the hall near the door and join him inside.
“Have a nice trip?” His words are mumbled as he stares down at his hands as if they hold all his secrets.
“I went straight from the airport to the apartment I shared with Jason.”
He tenses, but he doesn’t respond or look up at me. I hate that his eyes aren’t on me, and I realize the cold from outside has followed us here, only this time the frigidness is flowing from him rather than the north wind sweeping across the property.
“He moved a woman in with him,” I continue. “She was a very nice lady, helped me carry my things to my car.”
“So, I’m a consolation prize?”
When his eyes meet mine, I can see he’s already shutting down. Whatever hope he may have had before is dwindling rapidly.
“I felt absolutely nothing when she opened the door. I wasn’t angry or sad or disappointed. I didn’t care that my things were packed away, or that she replaced the throw pillows on the sofa and the art
on the walls. It didn’t bother me that she rearranged the furniture, situating the sofa on the east wall even though it makes no sense because the setting sun glares on the television. None of that mattered. I wasn’t upset or sad when Jason showed up and begged me to stay. I didn’t feel any of the things I felt when you came home from Venezuela and ignored me. I didn’t feel heartbroken about Jason like I do every time you make me feel like an obligation.”
His face grows angry, and unlike it would’ve made me feel weeks ago, I’m no longer scared. I no longer want to back away from him or kiss his lips, so he won’t physically hurt me like the men in Miami did. I’m not saying I’d stand as tall as I am right now if it were anyone else, but I know I can trust Ryan with my safety at least. I have no idea what’s about to happen to my heart.
“Not one second since you arrived here have you ever been an obligation,” he counters. “I wanted you here every single second.”
“Wanted?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
A word in past tense never hurt me more than that one just did.
“Want,” he corrects. “I want you here, but your arrival in my life has complicated things.”
“Complicated things?” I want to focus on that, but his back-and-forth is giving me whiplash, so first things first. “What’s complicated is you saying all these amazing things to me — insinuating that you want to be with me as more than a comforting person in my life. You wanted to say things I wasn’t ready to hear, which hinted at wanting to move forward in our relationship, and when you got home and wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. You let me hold you that night, and then you were gone before the sun came up.”
“You distract me,” he spits. His face flushes with frustration, but it’s gone in a second, and he refocuses on his hands.
I want to yank his head up by twisting my fingers in his hair, but that kind of physical contact would be wrong. Aggression isn’t the way for either of us to handle this situation.
