Dangerously Bound

by Eden Bradley

  “I didn’t say anything. She just freaked out.”

  And told me I was stupid. And a masochist.

  Apparently I fucking am.

  He stopped struggling. Jamie backed off.

  “Whatever’s going on with you two, you need to sit tight for a while,” Jamie told him.

  Mick put a hand to his head, winced when his fingers smoothed over the bruise there. “Yeah, fine. Maybe I don’t need to talk to her right now, anyway.”

  “That sounds cryptic.”

  “Don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.

  “You have a head injury so I’ll ignore that grumpy-ass tone.”

  “Go ask the nurse when they’re letting me the hell out of here, will you?”

  “Yeah, okay. Don’t go anywhere or I’ll hunt you down, Reid.”

  “I won’t. Just go find out.”

  His head was pounding. From the knockout. From the hard lump in his gut that told him what Allie really thought about him. Hell, he should have suspected. It was what he’d always thought himself. But to have to hear it from the woman he loved . . .

  Maybe he’d been right all along. They should never be together. He was poison to her—that had been obvious tonight. He’d never forget the look of misery and pure terror on her face. His damn fault. And still he’d argued with her like an ass.

  But he couldn’t give up the fighting.

  The fighting? Or the rest?

  Fuck, his head was spinning, his stomach churning.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillows.

  He’d have to let Allie go. Again.

  For the last time.

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  MICK WOKE AT six out of habit, his limbs itching to go for a run, but the ER doctor—and Jamie—had made him promise he wouldn’t work out for a week. It had only been five days. Maybe he could push things a little?

  He felt okay. The bruise was already clearing up, and he hadn’t had any nausea or dizziness since that first night. Physically, he was fine. The rest of him was pretty well fucked up.

  He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered as he put on his running shoes. He was going to lose his shit if he had to hold still any longer.

  The sky was dark and heavy with clouds when he stepped outside, and he could feel the damp air cool on his skin. Didn’t matter. He’d warm up fast enough.

  He did a few quick leg stretches on the sidewalk in front of his house, then he took off at a slow jog to get his muscles warmed up.

  He went down Dauphine to Canal Street, turned toward the water and let himself speed up, his legs and his lungs pumping. It felt good, even if the bad leg hurt. He didn’t care. It was good to be out, to be moving.

  The last few days had been pure torture—constant thoughts of Allie with not enough to distract him, going back and forth with himself about whether to call her or to stay away. He had a great argument for keeping his distance. Logical reasons. But emotion was telling him something else.

  He loved the girl.

  There was no getting around it. And she loved him back. Despite her walking away from him at the hospital, despite their history. Despite everything. And maybe—just maybe—there was something to it, some reason.

  She was scared, which he understood when he could get out of his own head long enough to let his own shit go—all the shit that had been holding him back his entire life. The shit that had been stirred up once more by the angry words she’d hurled at him in the emergency room. He’d let it get to him, he realized now, in a way that was . . . every bit as stupid as she’d accused him of being.

  And he was if he couldn’t give up the Goddamn fighting to be with her. She was worth it. If he could have Allie, why would he need it anymore? What did he even have to be so pissed off about? Hell, weren’t there other reasons why he shouldn’t need to fight anymore? Wasn’t he stronger than that? Better than that?

  It was time to fucking get over himself.

  Heat flooded his body, a kind of release as years of tension and stubbornness drained from him.

  Amazing what a good knock on the head could shake loose. That and the love of the most incredible woman he’d ever met.

  He really was stubborn to have hung on to this image of himself all these years—even now, knowing she loved him. Was he really so in love with the idea of him being the bad seed that he hadn’t been able to let it go? Had he really been so damn stuck in that awful place inside his head where all the good things he’d done with his life counted for nothing?

  His legs pumped, taking him down one block, then the next, past houses and stores, bars and restaurants, all of it a blur.

  He’d been standing in his own way for most of his damn life. He hadn’t been able to stop until she’d come back into his life and made him feel worthwhile again.

  They’d wasted so many years . . . he’d wasted so many years.

  He had to tell Allie. Had to. He had to tell her what he’d just figured out. And he had to get her back.

  “Fuck,” he puffed out, increasing his stride until he reached Magazine Street and made the turn to head toward Allie’s neighborhood just as the sky opened up and it started to rain, a light spring shower that felt good on his heated skin.

  She made him feel amazing. No more letting this twisted shit inside his head talk him out of that. With her, he could believe it. Now it was time to learn to believe it on his own. Because if he didn’t, then he really didn’t deserve her.

  He did, damn it. He was going to make her see that.

  He concentrated on keeping his legs moving, breathing in, breathing out, until he turned the corner at Orange Street and ran toward her house.

  The sun was beginning to break through the rain, lighting up the sky in shades of pale silver, bathing the old cottage in a watercolor wash. He had to stop on the sidewalk, bent over, hands braced on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. The leg throbbed, but he didn’t care. Allie was the only thing that mattered now.

  He straightened up and went to her door.

  * * *

  ALLIE SKIPPED TOWARD the French doors that led into her father’s study.

  “Papa! I have to go to school soon. Play something for me.”

  She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. So still. Slumped over the piano keys.

  “Papa? What are you doing? Does your head hurt?”

  The house was more silent than she’d ever heard it. She knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  “Papa, why won’t you answer me?”

  She stepped closer, put a hand on his arm, running her fingers over the crisp blue cotton of his shirt.

  “Papa?” she whispered, her heart twisting in her chest.

  She took a step back, terrified. Guilty for being scared of her own papa. Tears slipped down her cheek.

  She woke to a loud pounding, clutching the sheet—and wiped the tears away.

  The pounding continued.

  She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even quite seven—who would be there so early? Allister wasn’t due to work on the kitchen until Monday.

  She got up and padded barefoot down the hall in her pink cotton nightgown as the pounding came again, more insistent this time.

  “Okay, I’m coming!”

  She unlocked the door and pulled it open. And froze when she saw Mick standing on her porch.

  His hair and his skin were wet, and it was only then she realized it was raining. He was panting hard, his expression grim.

  He was so damn beautiful it made her heart ache.

  “Allie, you’re crying.”

  “What?” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It was . . . just a
bad dream.”

  The same one she’d had every night since she’d last seen Mick.

  “I had to come,” he said.

  “Why?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, her brain still half asleep yet churning a hundred miles an hour.

  “Come on, baby. We have a lot to talk about.”

  She bit her lip, trying to stay strong in her resolve even though every cell in her body wanted nothing more than to reach out for him. To feel the texture of his skin. The crush of his arms around her.

  No.

  “Can I at least have some water before you decide you won’t talk to me? I ran all the way here from my place. I’m a little dehydrated even with the rain.”

  “Oh. I . . . yes, come on in, I guess.”

  She turned and walked into the kitchen without looking at him, her pulse racing. She needed a moment to gather herself. She pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a breath before turning to hand it to him, along with a dish towel.

  “Thanks.”

  He popped open the bottle and drank, ran the towel over his face, his hair.

  He seemed to fill up her small kitchen, and it was as much his presence as his height, his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin was slick with sweat and the New Orleans rain. There was rain caught on the tips of his dark lashes.

  He wiped his mouth, looked at her. And as was his habit, it seemed as if he could see right through her. How the hell did he do that?

  She put a hand on the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself. “So,” she started, looking at the floor. Anything to avoid that searching gray gaze. “What is it you think we have to say to each other?”

  She looked up then, feeling the challenge of her own words.

  “Plenty. At least, I have plenty to tell you. I need you to hear me out, Allie.”

  “I—”

  “Just do it,” he interrupted, his voice low. “Give me five minutes. If I can’t convince you I have a point, you’re free to ask me to go. And if you do, I won’t bother you ever again.”

  There was an edge of command in his voice. And pain. That much was plain to see.

  She chewed on her lip. This felt dangerous. Mick was dangerous. She’d always known that. But hadn’t that always been part of the allure? That and his purely masculine face, the features a little raw, yet beautiful to her all the same.

  So beautiful his face alone broke her heart.

  Stop it.

  “Allie? Come on. Hear me out.”

  She nodded and sat down slowly in the chair. Mick stayed on his feet.

  “Okay.” He ran a hand over his damp hair. “I’m sorry. For every rotten asshole thing I’ve ever done to you. For every stupid thing I’ve done—and you were right back in the ER—I’ve been an idiot. I was punishing myself. I think you already know that much. You said as much.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. This was exactly what she wanted to hear from him. And everything she didn’t dare believe. “I think it’s what you’ve always done. You told me you’d stopped running, but that’s not true. It’s as if it’s almost habit for you. You create this self-fulfilling prophecy, Mick. Which one of us did you think you were punishing? Because frankly, I’m tired of it being me. And I don’t know why I convinced myself that it had just gone away. That’s what’s kept me in this with you, but I don’t have any reason to exist on blind faith anymore. There’s just been . . . too much has happened. I can’t take any more apologies. I can’t take any more worry that something horrible will happen to you because you invited it to.”

  God, it hurt her to say it.

  “I understand you feeling that way. I do. I’m not going to argue a single point. But we’ve built something together, Allie. Something important. And I refuse to walk away from it.”

  “You don’t have to add yet another thing for you to feel responsible for destroying, Mick. You don’t have to walk away, because I already did. I did it because I had to. Why can’t you understand?”

  “Because my life without you in it doesn’t make any sense. It never has. Don’t you see? It’s always been us. Mick and Allie. No matter how many years we spent apart. The ones who have to end up together if life is fair. Hell, even if it’s not. You were right about that, Allie.”

  When all she could do was blink at him, he went on. “We were meant to be together. We both know it. You always have. I ran from it for years because I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I covered that up in excuses about you being so pure—and I don’t mean this as any kind of insult, but I knew damn well you weren’t some innocent virgin. I recognized your desires back when we were in high school, when you were a virgin. I saw a little of the darkness in you and I blamed myself for it. And the kink . . . back then I thought there was something wrong with me. But even now, knowing what I know about kink, what I know about you, the kink seems more pure for you.”

  He started to pace then. She still had no idea what to say or where he was going with all this. All she knew was the staggering pain she felt at seeing him there, hearing that raw edge to his voice. But she didn’t know what she could trust in.

  We were meant to be together.

  Wasn’t that what she’d always believed?

  He stopped and stared at her for several long moments.

  “Are you letting me stay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “You have my attention.”

  He leaned against the counter behind him. “It’s all fucked up, and I’m just now getting it. What played into the way I viewed myself, and the way I viewed you through those lenses that saw me as . . . defective.” She saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. “It wasn’t about you at all. Except for the part where I love you. I always have. I always will. That much was true from the start.” His tone lowered, his brows drawing together. “Do you love me at all, Allie girl?”

  Her breath caught on a strangled sob. “Of course I do!”

  He was at her side in an instant, but when he tried to take her in his arms, she pushed him away.

  “Mick, I don’t know how to feel right now. So, you’ve had this epiphany. Now what?”

  “Now I stop the fighting—the kind that’s anything more than a workout. The kind that comes from anger and frustration. The kind with that edge of need that bites into me. I don’t need it anymore. I thought I did. But Allie, if I have you . . .”

  “I don’t understand, Mick.” Her head was spinning. “I don’t know how this all comes together.”

  “I know I’m not making much sense. I’m trying.” He stopped, scrubbed at his goatee. “Okay. Let me try this again. I started having these thoughts about kink back in high school and I felt like they were wrong. Crazy, maybe. I didn’t want to pollute you with the dirt going on in my head. Those urges got stronger as I grew older. By the time I was getting ready to leave for college, I was convinced I would ruin you somehow. I was barely eighteen—what did I know? I didn’t understand myself what was happening to me.”

  “But we were together that one time when we were in college. And after that night I never heard from you again.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “That tortured me, Mick! Because that night was . . . transcendent for me. I knew exactly what I wanted—what I’d fantasized about for such a long time. Things I could barely comprehend. I cried because it was so beautiful to me. Beautiful because it was with you. And then you took it all away from me.”

  “I know. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust myself. And after that, I knew how much I’d hurt you by disappearing, and I felt even more like an asshole who could never deserve you. But things got even worse.”

  “The accident,” she said, her chest going tight.

  “Yeah. The accident. That pretty much ruined me. I’ve known it this whole
time, when I’ve allowed myself to consciously think about it at all, which hasn’t been too often. And . . . well, I’m a guy, and I admit we’re not always the most enlightened of the species.”

  “Agreed. Go on.”

  She knew she wasn’t being very nice, with Mick laying his soul out on the table. But she was still as pissed off as she was hurt. Almost, anyway. The anger was helping her to keep a lid on her emotions. To keep her from throwing her arms around him and simply forgiving him everything because it damn well hurt to see that Mick having to say these things out loud—to say them to her—was tearing him apart.

  “So,” he went on, “I need to talk to you about the accident, Allie. In a way I’ve never talked to anyone about it. Maybe not even to myself—and I swear I’m not saying this because I want pity or to scare you. I almost died that day. They told me I should have, given the speed of the impact and what happened to the bike. You asked me about my Latin tattoo? Non Timebo Mala—‘I will fear no evil.’ It’s about that. About having faced death. My own stupidity. And over the years it’s come to mean all kinds of things. Facing the dark place inside me that drives the kink. Trying to learn not to fear . . . anything. It’s a process. Life is a process. I didn’t know until you came back into my life that you—us being together—was a part of it. Not that we’re evil, of course, but that I perceived being close to you as an evil because I was afraid to do it. I don’t know, it doesn’t translate directly. Am I making any sense?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  He went back to lean against the tile counter and closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Back to the accident. I don’t know if you understand what it’s like to have the reputation of generations before you to live up to. It’s not a conscious expectation, but it’s there all the same. It’s almost genetic in my family. We always knew exactly what we’d do with our lives, my brothers and I. There was no question. We were all a little bad, the Reid kids, but everyone fell into line when it was time to get serious about becoming a firefighter. Except me. I took it too far. Far enough that there was no coming back. And that ended everything for me.