by Alta Hensley
“It’s over?” she asked softly as her body trembled against mine .
I nodded, tightening my grip around her .
“You came. You saved me.” She continued to cry, her soft sobs shaking her small frame still locked in my arms. “Those gunshots were yours. You saved me. You cared .”
Had I? Saved her? No. I didn’t save people. It wasn’t who I was. I caused pain. Just as I’d caused this pain .
“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. I was so very sorry .
This too was a new sensation for me. Regret, remorse, guilt, repentance were not words that I lived by or felt. Ever. You couldn’t in my line of work and survive .
But with Marlowe, and that very minute I held her shaking, terrified body close to me, those were all the words I felt. I was so sorry. All I wanted to do was take her pain and fright away. To go back in time and make sure that I never allowed for this to all happen. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. My demons and fucked up past should not have done this to her .
Normally I loved the smell of fear. But not today. Not with her .
Today I loved the smell of protection more .
I had never seen the look of relief in someone’s eyes before. The look of complete and total trust. And peering down into Marlowe’s tear-filled eyes, I could see she trusted me. I didn’t deserve that trust, yet she did .
“I was so scared. They said they kidnapped me because of revenge. Because you killed Lukas’s brother. They thought by kidnapping me and killing…” Her eyes went wide. “Oh God, Harley. Do you know about Layla ?”
I placed my finger on her trembling bottom lip. “I know about it all .”
Removing my jacket, I wrapped it around her, covering her naked body with the heavy, black fabric. I fastened it in front of her and then pulled out her long black hair, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders. Even now in her absolute most broken state, the woman captured my heart with her beauty. How was this possible? How could this be ?
“It was awful. Two men in masks killed her and then took me. I didn’t hear anything. She was already lying in a pool of blood when I came into the room. There was nothing I could do. I’m so sorry,” she said softly as sobs shook her shoulders up and down .
“Never say those words. It’s me who is sorry .”
“But she was your friend. I can only imagine how terrible it must have been to find her like that .”
“No more talk. Let’s get you out of here and back to my place.” I scooped her up and cradled her in my arms. There was no way I was going to allow her to take one more step barefoot .
“Will they find us there? Are we safe?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck .
“I told you it’s over. You are safe. I swear this to you .”
“But what if they have more people helping them? What if the men who took me come back and try again? Maybe we should go someplace else. What about the police? What about Layla? She was murdered, Harley. We can’t just not call the police .”
I shook my head. “No. It’s taken care of. I ended it all, and it’s over. You’re safe, Marlowe,” I reassured as I looked down into her eyes. I was taking long strides to get the hell out of this shithole. “Once we get to my place, I’ll never leave your side. I will do whatever I have to do to make sure you never feel that afraid again. I promise you that I will never ever see the look of fear in your eyes again. I’ll earn your forgiveness by protecting you for the rest of my life if that’s what you want. But I swear to you, that I will never allow you to feel afraid again .”
“I don’t blame you, Harley. I know you think I do. But I don’t. I know the type of life you lived… or live. I know you did what Lukas said you did to his brother, and you have done that to many others. But I don’t blame you for what your enemies did to me. I know you didn’t know this would happen. I know you didn’t for one minute think I was in danger or you wouldn’t have left.” She rested her head against my shoulder and sighed deeply. “Thank you. Thank you for coming to get me. I am not your woman so… it means a lot to me that you came to get me back .”
“You should have never been here to begin with. I’m so sorry .”
Her arms tightened around my neck. “I just want it to all be over .”
“ It is .”
“I trust you .”
Fuck. She should never trust a man like me .
I continued to march in a half daze, not being able to process how someone could be so forgiving and compassionate even as they stared fear straight in the eye. She should be screaming at me. Demanding answers. Hating me for what I had just put her through, and the dangerous position my actions had put her in. She should be livid and so fucking afraid of me and the life I live that she demanded to be taken to safety which is as far away from me as one could get .
But not Marlowe .
“Please take me home… your home,” she said softly. “Tell me this was all a bad dream and I’m safe .”
Yes, it was a bad dream. I was the fucking bad dream .
I just wasn’t sure how I was going to wake her up from it .
14
Harley
I ’ve lived my life in a cell, the metal bars being the ghosts of all I killed. I’d accepted many years ago that my sins would forever cast me in a place much worse than Hell. Even Hell was too good for the man I became with each pull of the trigger or stab of the knife .
But nothing, nothing attacked my being like seeing the shattered woman before me. It was because of my sickness that she cried. It was because of the sadistic Devil who sat on my shoulder making me do all that I did that had her shaking in my arms. I was the one who killed. I was the one so full of hate and rage. I was the one who deserved to suffer the agony of terror. Not her. Not her .
I couldn’t fix the sins of my past. I couldn’t be the man who did no wrong. I fucking did wrong. I always did wrong. But not with Marlowe. I had to fix her. I had to pick up every single broken piece that was caused by me, and make an attempt to put her back together again. It would be my personal mission to protect her, comfort her, and make damn sure that she never felt what she had today. Never again. Never fucking again .
As I carried Marlowe across the threshold of my house, the full moon illuminated the swampy landscape through the large living room window. A single lamp was on, casting shadows throughout the room. Shadows deep and plentiful like the ones that covered my heart. But as I glanced down at Marlowe, who’d released a sigh of relief the minute we’d entered the warm house, I realized that this woman had somehow learned how to navigate the maze through the cracks of light I had left on in my beating heart .
It had been 24 hours since we had sat in this room. Playfully bantering about who was or was not afraid of the dark. It was the pre sex talk. The talk that meant nothing more than to set the stage for a night of incredible fucking. That was all it was supposed to be. I would have never signed on for anything else, had I known .
Had I known .
Known that Marlowe Masters would capture my heart. That my foolish ways and fucked up world would hand over something I never wanted to give to anyone. Pulling her into my world. Into who I was. I never wanted her to leave my nightmare. I wanted her to hold my hand and guide me through it like a lighthouse would guide a ghost ship through a storm .
Just as I was about to place her down on the tile floor, she tensed and fresh tears escaped her eyes. “Oh poor Layla.” Her eyes were cast down to the spot where Layla had lain in a pool of blood. Nothing remained there but the awful memory. She looked at me and ran her fingertips along my jawline. “I’m so sorry, Harley .”
Her compassion. Her kind heart. Even while her own situation had been fucked, she still cared about Layla and about me. She cared about me. I didn’t deserve the good. Not when I was the fucking evil .
“Let’s get you in the bath,” I said as I walked toward the master bathroom. I had to get her away from the visions of death I knew she had. I had to protect her, even though
it was because of me that those visions existed .
She nodded and laid her head against my shoulder. So tender. So soft .
The only way I would survive this night from my own madness was by focusing on Marlowe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t allow any other thoughts to exist except the protection of this woman. I was helpless to change my past, but I could control this very minute. And right now, it was about stealing the negative thoughts from her mind—not adding to them. One goal only: To make sure that she never was afraid of the dark again .
Placing her on the edge of the tub, I turned on the water. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any bubble bath or salts .”
She smiled and released a giggle. “I wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, I think it would have concerned me .”
I could have stared at that smile on her face forever. It was a much better sight than the look of misery and torment that I had seen before .
Testing the water to make sure it was perfect, I said, “I’ll be waiting in the living room for you. Take your time.” I reached under the sink for a fresh towel perfectly folded and placed it next to her feet .
She reached for my hand and squeezed hard. “Please stay. I don’t want to be left alone .”
“I’ll be right outside — ”
“Please,” she interrupted with another squeeze of her hand .
I nodded as I reached for the buttons on the jacket and helped her with undoing them. Lowering the jacket off her shoulders and shedding her of the covering, I helped her into the large bath as the steam of the hot water circled around her soft skin. She didn’t appear embarrassed or shy about being naked in front of me, though I suppose that there really was no reason to be. I had already worshipped every inch of her mesmerizing body, and wished I would someday have that opportunity again .
But I didn’t deserve her .
Being with me would only hurt her like what had happened today .
It was because of me that she was broken, and I didn’t ever want to do it again .
Easing her body against the back of the tub, she closed her eyes and said, “This feels nice .”
Her look of contentment gave me that same feeling as seeing the smile on her face when she’d first giggled .
“Harley?” she said softly as her eyes remained closed. “Do you have a lot of guns? Like a gun room or something ?”
“No. I have a gun or two in the house, but that’s it. Why? Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean you aren’t safe .”
“So if those men come back, you’ll shoot them ?”
“If anyone tried to hurt you or take you away from me, then, yes, I would definitely shoot them. I have guns, just not a gun room .”
“I just pictured this house differently when I watched you at Spiked Roses . I thought you would live in some ultra modern loft and have a secret room with guns and bombs and stuff. Like those action movies you see .”
“I’m nothing like those movies .”
“But you are an assassin. Don’t all assassins have hundreds of guns? What about knives? A knife collection ?”
“No. Not me. I actually couldn’t give a fuck less about guns and knives. I don’t know how to make bombs or booby traps and shit like that. I just get a gun. They serve as a reminder, and I don’t fucking need any more reminding. My life is a constant reminder .”
Opening her eyes, she stared at me and slowly sorrow engulfed any sign of pleasure she’d had for that split second .
“What happened with Layla’s body? Did you have to call the police? Will there be a funeral?” Fresh tears fell from her eyes again. “I’ll help you with all that. You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I know you are used to death and killing, but she was someone special to you. No matter how desensitized you are to death, I’m sure you are devastated. I’m here. I want you to know I’m here to help you. Just tell me what you need me to do .”
I shook my head. “Please, Marlowe. Not now. I can’t. Not now.” I wasn’t ready to face this nightmare head-on. I needed tonight. One night to just focus on this incredible woman who fascinated me in more ways than I’d thought possible before I dove head first into the darkness I was so familiar with. “Tomorrow. All I ask is that we wait until tomorrow to go down that path .”
She swallowed and wiped away her tears. “I understand,” she said with a nod. “Yes. Let’s just have tonight .”
“That’s all I ask. I don’t deserve to ask a thing, but I beg you .”
“Of course,” she said as she leaned up and took hold of my hand. The warm water from her palm sent a chill down my spine. Or maybe it was the way she looked at me that caused it because there was so much sympathy and understanding present. “Just know that I won’t leave you to deal with this all by yourself. I won’t leave you .”
“I wish that were true .”
“It is. You didn’t leave me, so I won’t leave you .”
“You’ll have to leave me for self preservation,” I mumbled. “I only hurt the ones who believe that I can be anything else but the beast I’ve become .”
“I don’t believe that,” she said, still holding onto me. “I think you want to believe that, but it isn’t true. You want to be bad because then you have an excuse to focus on all the feelings of darkness rather than the good. The good is scarier because you are always at risk of losing it. The feeling of loss is far worse than living in a constant state of a black void. You might have done bad things in your life, but I can see, and I can feel that you are not a bad man. You just pretend to be. I’ve seen bad men, Harley, and you are not one of them .”
“Like your dad?” I asked, reaching for a washcloth that sat folded on the corner of the tub. I motioned for Marlowe to turn around so I could wash her back, which she did without saying a word. “Was your dad a bad man ?”
“You saw me on the video? Heard what I said ?”
“I saw you,” I answered honestly. Trying to erase the picture of her tiny, naked, and frightened self screaming into the camera .
“I don’t like to talk about him .”
“Why?” I ran the wet cloth along the edges of her tattoo, wondering if I would ever truly have the pleasure of knowing the depths of this woman. Maybe it would help me figure out what exactly it was about her that had me feeling like I couldn’t go another minute without her by my side .
“That tattoo is because of him .”
I paused the cloth and studied the tree that curled around the enticing curves of her body again. “ How so ?”
“There was an old oak tree in our backyard growing up. It was huge and had been there long before us. It truly was part of the house. You could see it from the window as you washed the dishes. I couldn’t imagine the yard without it. But every single day since my earliest memory, my father would wake up from a drunken night and stumble his way out to the tree and puke right at its base, and then when he was done with that, he would pull out his dick and piss on it. Others in the MC would do it too if they crashed at the house, or if there was a party at our place—which was often. Some even joked that it was the puke and piss tree, but to my mother and me it wasn’t. It was the tree with its big bold leaves that we stared at every single day as we worked in the kitchen. It was our beauty. It was our piece of the world that was simple. It was just a tree and possessed nothing bad and wasn’t filled with lies and betrayal like everything else in our lives .
“But that tree began to die. Each season, the leaves became fewer and fewer. Dead branches scattered throughout the thin foliage that would come crashing to the ground with the slightest windstorm. My mother and sisters loved that tree. I loved that tree. My father destroyed that tree just as he was slowly destroying us with his life of running an MC and feeling as if he were God. Rules did not apply to him in his fucked up world. Love, compassion, family values, and kindness were not present in his land of booze, whores, killing, and the thirst for power. Every year, the tree got worse. Every year, so did my mother, my sisters, and I. We li
ved in a Mexican gang hell… a prison. And those assholes on bikes were our gatekeepers. I couldn’t date anyone and not fear they would be killed. I couldn’t go anywhere without the fear that I would be murdered in retaliation from some other MC for whatever vile thing my father had done to them. My life was so far from normal, and I had no one. My family was in a constant state of survival mode, which forced us to live with an every man for himself mentality. It was a hollow and lonely existence growing up. Superficial love. That was all I received and all I knew how to give .
“I cut myself daily with whatever cheap razor blade I could find to numb the pain, and I feared I would eventually become like my mother who watched her soaps and spoke to her parrot with no life left in her eyes. I cut my inner thighs to keep this twisted need of mine hidden. It was my dark secret, but my entire life was becoming one big fucking dark secret .
“On my seventeenth birthday, I packed a bag and waited one month until I graduated high school early. I kept that bag packed every day while I waited. And the day I left that house, I looked at the dying tree, and promised myself that I would never allow someone to destroy me .”
“And you came to New Orleans?” I asked as I continued to rub on the tattoo that I now knew the story behind .
“To play music. It was all I had. No other skills other than that, and definitely no money. But at least I had myself.” Marlowe turned so she could face me. “And I never cut myself again once I left. There was no more pain to silence .”
“Until today,” I said .
“I don’t need to silence my pain. I have you.” She pulled up on her knees so her face was inches from mine .
I shook my head. “I cause pain. I never take it away .”
She placed her finger on my lips as I had done to her before and smiled. “Shh, not tonight. Remember? You said we have tonight to just be. Nothing but us. And I have other ideas on how my pain can be silenced. I know exactly how you can take it all away .”
