If I Could I'd Wish It All Away (I Wish Book 1)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  “One night they threw a huge party, and he turned up. That night, the leader met Becca for the first time and took a liking to her, not caring we were together. I think he actually enjoyed the fact that she was taken. It gave him a challenge and boosted his ego thinking he could take what he wanted,” he says bitterly and my stomach rolls, hating where this is going.

  “Are you okay?” I ask softly, squeezing his hand.

  “Yeah, I just… This is hard.” He looks so sad, so lost. I reach out, taking his hand in mine.

  “If you need to stop, you can,” I tell him, and he nods, clearing his throat.

  “After that night he became infatuated with her. He’d always find a way to be near her, to get her away from me just so he could make her feel uncomfortable. She admitted she didn’t feel safe, that she felt like her position was compromised, but didn’t bother telling us from the very beginning. She kept it hidden well, and although I had an inkling of what was going on, I trusted her to tell me she was having trouble. But because it had taken her so long to get where she was in her job, she didn’t want to jeopardise her position. It was already hard for her as a female cop, and I guess that’s why she held back.

  “Our boss told her to use his obsession against him, for her to get close to him so she could get some critical information out of him,” he says, taking in a forced breath. “I still can’t believe he thought she could manipulate him by seducing him. The bloke was smart. Hell, he’d kept himself from heading to prison for years.

  “The boss got his wish. Becca did everything he suggested. Only trouble was she struggled to keep the bastard at arm’s length. He just kept pushing and pushing her. He took her refusal to sleep with him as disobedience, so he spiked her drink with a new drug to make her compliant. It was similar to a date-rape drug, only it made the victim a willing participant, even though they had no control over what was happening to them or their body’s reaction. And that’s what happened to her when he raped her,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much pain my heart bleeds.

  My gasp is loud and clear, tears filling my eyes. I can’t believe what he’s telling me, what they both went through, what she went through. It’s heartbreaking. I don’t even know what to do or what to say to make this better, to take away his pain.

  It’s also clear from how gruff and raw his voice is that this is the first time he’s speaking to someone about it.

  “What happened?” I whisper, wiping my tears.

  “The day it happened, we were all out on the docks waiting for a huge shipment to come in. God, we were so close to getting what we needed to put those bastards away for good. It was what we were all waiting for. The leader was in attendance due to the amount of shit they were importing. We had everything planned.

  “Becca wasn’t even supposed to be working that night since she wasn’t a part of the inner gang. I told her to stay at home instead of helping the others who were making the arrests. We couldn’t chance one of them seeing her and them ordering a hit on her or something. But our boss had other plans and went behind everyone’s back, telling her to stay close to the leader and to inform him if anything changed or if she thought the leader knew something was happening. We weren’t sure if he had people working for him in the department who gave him a heads-up about our busts, but even still, he shouldn’t have asked that of her, especially without warning any of us first and having someone at her back.

  “She went in unknown to anyone but him. No one was listening in on her because she wasn’t even fucking wired. It was a fucking mess. She was raped and then brought to the beat, thrown into the centre of us all, naked, bruised and bleeding, pleading for her life,” he chokes out, his eyes watering. “I stood there frozen, and did nothing. I guess a part of me knew it was a test and that he wanted to see who would step up and help her. I just stood there and did fuck all, nothing as she lay there naked and bleeding!” he shouts, fisting his hair. I stand in front of him, placing my hands around his neck and hugging him to me.

  “It’s okay! It’s okay,” I repeat, needing him to know I’m there.

  “He shot her in the chest, right in front of me, and I had to watch from a distance as the life drained out of her. I just stood there,” he repeats, his voice hollow. “I was a fucking coward, worse than those monsters. I should have fucking done something.” He starts to cry, and I let him, rubbing his arm. “And the worst part about it is the fact that my team moved in five minutes later making arrests. If the shipment had been a couple minutes early or our team moved in when they saw her. She’d be alive. She would’ve had a chance. God, I try to change that day in my head all the time, and with every scenario I come up with, she walks out of there alive.”

  It breaks my heart listening to his voice crack talking about it. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m completely speechless. It feels like a horrific scene out of a movie, not something that happened in real life.

  “Dean, you didn’t know what was going to happen. Your boss should have protected her, and you. You did what you had to do, and if you had gone to her, they would have killed you too. And as hard as this is to say, Becca would have died whether you had gone to her or not. Think about it. She was already bleeding and beaten, and with a gunshot wound to the chest, she would have died before an ambulance arrived. And that’s only if they had let you live long enough to call one,” I tell him, trying my best to get him to understand that he isn’t at fault, that he couldn’t have prevented her death. The only ones who had the power to do that were her boss and Becca herself.

  “When I vouched for her, I was under the impression that she would just be there with me as a second set of eyes. I didn’t think she would get in so deep. She stayed on the case because she honestly believed she had to prove herself to everyone that a female officer can rank high in a job. I should have tried harder to get her to quit when I found out about the leader’s obsession. But she was so stubborn. She kept telling me over and over that, if she quit every time someone made her feel uncomfortable, she’d be out of a job. I’d have understood, I really would’ve, had it not been for how obsessed he was with her. It was unhealthy the way he was with her, and she knew that. I should have made her see sense, got her fired or something. It would have saved her life if I did.”

  “Don’t think like that. She knew what she was getting into. She knew going in without backup was a risk. Why didn’t she leave?”

  “Because when she started to get cold feet, our boss pulled her aside and said something to her that convinced her to stay. It’s what made her go back to that psycho and act like she enjoyed being around him.” He scoffs, shaking his head as he runs his palms over his face. “I hated seeing her with him. I could tell she was still scared and that he was making her life hell, but there was nothing I could say to convince her.

  “You know, our boss had the whole fucking team in the conference room the day after, congratulating everyone on their hard work. He even organised a celebratory dinner and drinks. Not one word was mentioned about Becca. Fuck all! Not even an apology,” he cries, and my heart clenches. I hate that her life was dismissed like that. “After he mentioned the dinner and drinks I lost it. I got up in his face and punched him. I remember saying, ‘It doesn’t matter how many times you wash those hands, sir. You will never be able wash away her blood. What happened is on you.’ I hated him for the part he played in her death. He gave me a speech in front of everyone, saying how Becca knew what she was getting herself into, that she knew all the risks when she signed up for the job. It was more than that, and he knew it. He knew putting her in that position would get her killed.

  “He told me I needed to get used to losing teammates in my line of work and, if I couldn’t, I was in the wrong occupation. So I left, and I never looked back. I worked years training to bring down the bad guys, but they didn’t train me to lose someone, to lose a fellow officer, a friend. They also didn’t prepare me that sometimes I’ll be working for wankers and that some people are wors
e than the actual criminals.”

  “So that’s why you don’t do it,” I say, more to myself than him. I feel bad that he left something he loved because of someone else’s incompetence and careless attitude for other people’s lives.

  “I do P.I work every now and then, but mostly I help out around here. I’ve got a business down in Courtney Springs that I’ve hired someone to run. I only take jobs that he can’t at the moment because Dad needs help around the cabins. Since they had the extensions done they’ve had their hands full, so I offered to take time out from work to help them. I’ll go back to it once everything here settles down,” he says, before the both of us fall silent. “Fuck! Lo, I shouldn't have gone into that much detail. I’m so fucking sorry,” he suddenly bursts out, making me jump and a little confused for a second until it hits me.

  I will admit that listening to what both he and Becca went through makes my stomach sink and my skin crawl. I’m pretty sure I’ll be having a nightmare over it too, but as gritty as it was, I’m glad he confided in me. No one should have to go through that and suffer alone in silence.

  It’s also nice to be there for him for a change. I feel like I’m finally giving back instead of taking.

  “No, Dean, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry you went through that, and that Becca went through it.” I stop on the path and turn so I’m facing him. “You have to know that none of this is your fault. You didn’t force her to do anything. It was her career choice, her choice to join up with your team and her choice not to leave. I know it doesn’t make what happened any easier and it’s an awful thing to happen to someone, but you can’t carry that blame, Dean. Her death isn’t on you. Your boss should have taken care of you better. He shouldn’t have let her go in alone, and he shouldn’t have jeopardised your lives like that. I’m so sorry, for all of it, and I can understand why you left and don’t talk about it.”

  He holds onto my wrists as I cup his jaw, leaning in to my touch. “I couldn’t look at them anymore, especially him. We’re supposed to protect people, not….” He shakes his head, taking my hand again as we walk closer towards my cabin. “Let’s not think about it any longer.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, giving his hand a slight squeeze as we walk the rest of the way back in silence, soaking in the chilled night air.

  When we arrive outside the cabin, I reach into my handbag to try and find the keys and a sudden knot forms in my stomach at the thought of being alone. We’ve been inseparable since the day after I arrived and have slept in the same bed every night since then. I’m not ready for that to end or to be alone again. In fact, just thinking about it has my insides twisting.

  I feel selfish for taking so much of his time up. He probably wants his space back. A part of me wants him to stay just so I can comfort him, knowing everything he just laid bare is hurting him, the memories haunting him. But the other part of me, the selfish part, just wants him near me, needing his touch, his company and the comfort he brings me.

  “Would you like to stay? I can make you a cup of coffee or tea,” I offer, hoping I can steer the conversation somehow into him staying over again.

  “Sure, why not. Tea sounds good. The night’s still young, even if I’m not,” he teases, but there’s still a dark shadow clouding his eyes.

  I laugh before turning to go into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. It’s amazing how we’ve just gone from having this intense conversation to light, easy banter.

  He’s most likely putting on a brave face for my benefit, and I admire him for that, but I need him to know he doesn’t have to hide his emotions from me. I want him to be open about everything, the good and the bad.

  Hopefully, I can get him to forget the conversation altogether.

  *** *** ***

  The old grandfather clock chimes, signalling midnight. Dean sighs, his eyes on the clock as he stands with a grunt, stretching the kinks out of his back and neck. The minute he does, a spark of panic surfaces, causing my heart to race.

  “Right, I’d best be going. You need to get some serious beauty sleep,” he teases, winking at me.

  My stomach flutters and I playfully smack his arm, laughing when he fakes being hurt, rubbing the spot I hit.

  “Are you saying I’m ugly, Mr Salvatore?” I joke right back, narrowing my eyes.

  His intense gaze bores into me, heating my skin all over. He looks so serious as he steps into my personal space.

  “No, I’m most definitely not. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met by far,” he says, his eyes never once leaving mine as he palms my cheeks. I lean in to his touch, loving the feel of his hands on me.

  I don’t want him to go. I’m not ready, and the feeling is foreign to me. Uneasiness twists inside my stomach at the thought of him walking out that door. When he’s around me, I feel so safe, but it’s more than that. I find myself craving his company, enjoying it and not feeling alone anymore. My eyes pool with frustrated tears from wishing I had the courage to ask him to stay the night, to ask him not to leave me. I feel like I’m constantly taking from him and never giving him anything in return. I worry that I’m becoming too needy and clingy and that soon he’s going to have enough of me and resent me for taking up all of his time.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, noticing my sudden mood change.

  “I don’t want you to go. I’m not ready for you to leave me. I feel safe when I’m with you,” I blurt out, closing my eyes in embarrassment.

  “Can’t resist this old man, can you? It’s because I’m irresistibly hot, isn’t it?” he teases, making me laugh, my embarrassment long forgotten. Although, he still hasn’t answered the question.

  “Who said you were hot?” I ask him, sounding serious and not giving him time to answer. “They must be blind or something, unless you paid them. Or was it Sid? Because he’s the only one to say something that crazy.” I giggle, not able to keep a straight face as I cling to his shirt for support.

  He laughs too, grabbing me by my ass as he lifts me into his arms, leaving me no-other option than to swing my legs firmly around his waist.

  I take that as a yes, and that he’s staying.

  Giddy, I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning in as I run my nose up towards his jaw, breathing in his scent and quickly getting high from it. God, being surrounded by all that is Dean is intoxicating, addictive. I’ve never felt this pull, this comfort around anyone else, ever.

  “C’mon, sleeping beauty, let’s get you to bed. You’re starting to think you’re funny,” he jokes as he walks us down to my room with an extra bounce in his step.

  Dean drops my feet to the floor but leaves no room between us as we enter the bedroom. My breath comes out in tiny gasps, a yelp leaving my lips as he gives my arse a playful smack.

  “Go get ready,” he orders and I nod, grinning as I salute him.

  We both do our thing, working around each other to get ready for bed. Dean still has his bag from our stay at the cabin, so I leave him shifting through that before grabbing some clean pyjamas for myself.

  Heading into the adjoining bathroom, I close the door behind me, going about my business. By the time I’ve cleaned my teeth, washed my face and moisturised my face and body, I’m pulling my pyjamas on and walking back out the door.

  Entering the bedroom, I gasp. Dean is lying on the bed wearing only his boxers. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of the sight of him half naked. His tanned skin looks flawless against his white boxer shorts, making it seem darker. The rippled muscles on his abdomen flex, leaving me breathless as each ab becomes more pronounced, each muscle well cut. My eyes struggle to look away from his six-pack, but they do and I become even more breathless.

  Even his legs are impressive, the calf muscles looking strong and powerful as he uncrosses his ankles, his legs tensing for a second before relaxing. My eyes rake up his body, covering every muscle in his legs before reaching his boxers. All the blood rushes from my face when I find the thick, long outline of his erection
standing at attention. And boy, does it have my attention.

  Dean clears his throat, and my eyes snap to his. My cheeks heat when I find him staring back at me, an amused smirk on his face.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, shaking my head.

  He chuckles. “C’mon, get into bed. You can ogle me all you want from here.”

  I groan, tilting back and staring up at the ceiling at his teasing. “Shut up,” I pout, looking back at him as I cross my arms over my chest, stomping over to my side of the bed.

  God, listen to me. My side of the bed. Meaning he has a side too.

  Once we’re both in bed, he leans over and switches the bedside lamp off, blanketing us in complete darkness.

  I’m disappointed for a second that he hasn’t touched me, but then I hear his hands shift under the blanket before feeling them wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body. I go willingly, placing my head on his chest as I snuggle into him.

  “Did you have a good time the past few days?” he asks softly.

  “It’s been the best few days of my life, and I have you to thank for that. So thank you! What about you? Did you have a good time?”

  “Believe it or not, these past few days have been the best days of my entire life. You have no reason to be thankful. I’m the one who is thankful. I’m thankful every day that you weren’t in the car the night of your parents’ accident. I’m thankful that our parents were as tight as our grandparents were. But most of all, I’m thankful to your mom and dad for bringing you into this world and giving you to me,” he says, raw emotion pouring out with each word.

  Silent tears fall from hearing his beautifully honest admission, the powerful speech causing my heart to skip a beat.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, choked up with emotion.

  “You don’t need to say anything,” he says softly, kissing my head as he begins running his fingers through the ponytail. “Now sleep.”