by Aly Martinez
"Hey," I say, looking between the two men.
Dave has moved to the couch, still holding his nose, but his position is relaxed. There is no alarm lingering around him. Adam is still standing only a few feet away, but I suspect his proximity is more to make whispering easier than it is to intimidate. Although, judging by the murderous glare he is flashing between me and Dave, I could be wrong.
"You okay?" I ask Dave, moving to the kitchen in search of a bag to hold the ice.
"Yep, it’s not every day you get to go a round with—" he starts but is quickly interrupted.
"He’s fine!" Adam spits out entirely too loudly.
I can see the silent exchange between the two men, but I don’t mention it. Dave will explain it all to me later. I just pray the answer doesn’t end up with us in another move. I’m not ready to start all over with a new life, even though it’s only been a week in this one.
"You’ll be fine. Keep ice on your eye tonight or it will be swollen shut in the morning. Hey, Riley. Can we talk for a minute?" Adam asks, motioning toward the door.
"Um, sure." I finish with the ice and head towards Dave. He flinches as I press it to his cut. "You need stitches," I snap when I get a better look at his gaping wound.
"Nah. I always wanted a scar right there. It will make me look badass. Give me some street cred, ya know?" he jokes.
His jovial tone makes me roll my eyes before dropping my chin to my chest. I fight back the tears that are vying to surface. I’m so sick of this game—the peaks of adrenaline and valleys of relief. I’d give anything for a plateau in my life.
I wipe my hands over my pants to dry them and buy myself some time while asking Dave a silent question. He tilts his head in approval toward the door, giving me the okay to move to the breezeway.
No sooner than the door clicks behind us, Adam rushes out, "I want you to stay at my place tonight."
I can’t help the laugh that immediately springs from my throat. I bite my lips to cover the giggle, but it’s too late.
His eyes harden when he growls out, "I’m not leaving you here with him."
"Um, excuse me for sounding ungrateful, but when exactly did my well-being become your responsibility?" I ask with a sudden flash of boldness, only because I feel safe knowing that Dave is less than ten feet away and most certainly listening to our conversation.
"How about the moment you came running to my door tonight, shaking and flinching from even the most innocent of touches? I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you and him, but I do know I’m not leaving you here to take the brunt of his jealous fit just because he found a man sleeping on your couch. We both know nothing happened, but I won’t leave you to pay that price."
"He’s my cousin."
"Yeah, well, he was none too happy to find me in your apartment. He held a gun to my fucking head, Riley," he snaps, before leaning in close.
I immediately step away, causing my back to hit the door. "Back up," I warn, and with just those two words, the door swings open and I fall against Dave’s chest.
"I have no issues making a few phone calls," Dave says bluntly, though I have no idea what the hell he is talking about.
"You can call the God damn president himself and that is not changing anything," Adam replies before directing his attention back to me. "You’re not staying here tonight. Riley, I’ve seen this before. Just let me help you."
I shake my head, trying to find a way to make him understand, but why am I even trying to explain it to him? I have no idea who he is or why he is so determined to help me. I don’t even know if he actually wants to help at all. Over the last twenty-four hours, this man has inserted himself in my life. While I appreciated having him here earlier, I’m still not sure I should trust him.
"Thank you for earlier, but I’m okay now. You have completely the wrong idea about things. Dave’s very protective of me, but he has never hurt me. I’m sure it just surprised him to find you in the apartment."
"I bet," he scoffs. Then he reaches a gentle hand forward to grab my arm. "Listen—"
I instantly shrink away, and Dave grabs his wrist before he’s able to make contact. Adam’s glare is murderous as he snatches his arm from Dave’s grasp. They silently stare at each other for a few seconds before Adam looks back at me.
"I don’t feel right about this. I can’t just leave you here."
Shit. Now I feel guilty for catching an attitude with him. He seems like a really good guy.
I take a chance and reach out to grab his arm. I give it a quick squeeze, and he immediately looks down to where I’m touching him. "I promise I’ll be okay," I assure him, but he doesn’t move. I hold him, willing him to understand, but a few seconds later, he pulls away. With an angry huff, he finally turns and walks toward his apartment.
It only takes a few seconds before he reaches his door, but I watch his every step. This has been a night filled with drama after drama, but I can’t seem to stop my eyes from raking over his body. His sweats ride low on his hips, and the fitted T-shirt clings to his back.
"You need a napkin? You’re drooling a little," Dave asks the moment Adam disappears into his apartment.
"What?" I spin around to face him.
"You know, in all our years together, I have never seen you check out a man," he says with a chuckle.
"I wasn’t checking him out."
"Sorry. You’re right. You were straight-up undressing him."
"I was not!" I yell, but my reaction only makes him laugh. I push past him and head back inside while he continues laughing in the doorway. "Would you shut up and sit down so I can try to get that cut closed? I think your nose is broken too." I snap, walking to the kitchen to grab my stolen tape.
"Well, there go my good looks."
"Oh, please. You would need to have them in order to lose them. Now, sit."
"Damn, you’re feisty tonight," he says with a painful groan as he limps over to the couch.
I watch Leo with a soothing feeling of peace, but it’s quickly replaced with anger. "Where the hell did you disappear to tonight? I was scared to death! You couldn’t call and let me know you were okay?"
"Jesus, stop yelling. My head is killing me. I didn’t know you would be looking for me. Last I heard, you were going to bed."
"I was until someone tried to break in."
"What?" He jumps to his feet. "Who?"
"Apparently it was just some kids. At least that’s what Adam said, but it scared the shit out of me. Then I couldn’t get in touch with you. I thought…" I trail off.
"So that’s why he was here." He nods as the picture becomes clearer.
"I had no idea what else to do."
"It’s okay, babe. He’s a good guy."
"Do you know who he is?"
"Oh yeah. And don’t worry. He won’t give us any trouble. I bet he’ll be gone in the morning."
"What? Why?" I ask, surprised, and a knowing smile curves his lips.
"What’s wrong, Riley?"
"Nothing. I just… I don’t know. He helped me out tonight."
"Was this before or after he beat me unconscious?"
"You held a gun to his head! I can’t exactly blame him."
"I came home to find you curled into a ball and a unknown man sleeping across from you. You will have to excuse the assumption," he snaps.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," he says, rubbing his head with a wince.
"Where the hell did you disappear to? I was worried sick counting down the hours," I repeat.
His shoulders fall, and I immediately feel bad for blaming him. "I was flying home. I had to turn my phone off in the air," he explains, and it makes my heartbreak.
Home.
This isn’t home, but it's all we have.
I spend the next fifteen minutes replaying my night to him. I started at the very beginning and finished with Vision Quest. Dave didn’t say much while I explained the afternoon, but at certain points, he couldn’t hide the anger and regret from his f
ace. I know it killed him to hear how Adam ended up on our sofa, but only because he feels he should have been there instead.
"So you’re positive Adam isn’t an issue?" I ask when I finish patching up his cuts the best I can with limited medical supplies.
"Why do you keep asking about him?" He smiles the biggest shit-eating grin I have ever seen in my life.
"I’m just worried. That’s all."
"No, you’re not. You are surprisingly calm as a fucking cucumber right now. You’re curious about him," he says, and if possible, his smile grows even wider.
My cheeks heat to pink as I stumble over my words. "It’s just… I mean… He was really nice tonight, and I don’t know. He didn’t have to be."
"Well why don’t you go over there and say thank you." He pulls the ice from my hand and holds it to his own head.
"What? No! I can’t just prance over there and bother him yet again. He probably—okay, he definitely—thinks I’m crazy as hell. But now he probably thinks we are some sort of criminal duo too."
"Just go, Riley! He’ll probably be gone tomorrow. This might be your last chance to tell him." He gives me an exaggerated wink that causes me to roll my eyes.
"Why are you pushing me? I can’t go to his apartment at four in the morning."
"Why not? He just left ours like ten minutes ago. I think it's safe to assume he’s still awake."
"I’m not going over there, so hush. He must have hit your head really hard tonight. Usually you try to keep me away from people."
"Don’t give me that crap. That is not true at all and you fucking know it. I don’t try to keep you away from anyone. You’re the one who is scared of letting anyone get close. You can have friends, Riley. Jesus, you need someone besides me."
"Maybe, but I definitely don’t need the giant hot guy who lives next door," I mumble, causing Leo to choke out a laugh.
"The fact that you just called him a ‘giant hot guy’ leads me to believe that you do." His voice is teasing, but the hopeful look in his eye saddens me.
All Dave has ever wanted was for me to find someone—a girlfriend to chat with or even a boyfriend to move on with. He just wants me to have a life, but I’ve never wanted that, so he has gone through great lengths to help me keep away from everyone else.
For me, people represent one thing—danger. Who are they really? How quickly would they turn on you? And worse yet, how bad would it hurt if I had to pick up and leave them behind on a moment’s notice? It’s not just my life that’s in danger; my heart is at risk as well.
But tonight with Adam, I felt something I’ve never felt with anyone but Dave—safe.
Damn it.
"I did steal the tape out of his bag," I say sheepishly.
"You went through his bag?" he asks, shocked, but his voice is full of pride. I peek up at him with a small smile. "Good girl," he praises.
"I just wanted to know who he was. His apartment is empty, but there was a small bag mainly filled with clothes, but it had a roll of tape at the bottom. I’m assuming he really is a boxer?"
"What gave it away? The way he lit into me tonight or the muscles that turned you into a horny co-ed?"
"Shut up! I wasn’t staring at him."
"Right. Well, take the man back his tape. But put your contacts in before he falls in love. You have to at least give him a fighting chance," he teases, but I suddenly remember Adams words from earlier.
"He said my eyes were beautiful," I confess and immediately look down at the floor.
"Of course he did. Your eyes are unforgettable, Riley. Which is exactly why you need to put back in your contacts. Tell him they are prescription or something if he asks. But just go over there."
"Damn, you’re bossy tonight. Can you stop telling me what to do?" I snap, but we both know the attitude isn’t real.
"You went to him tonight. When you were afraid, you put down the gun and went to him," he says, holding my eyes. It’s a simple statement and not at all what we were talking about, but I know exactly what he’s thinking.
"It doesn’t mean anything," I whisper.
"Oh it definitely means something, Riley. Nothing may come from it, but it means that, even for just a second, you opened yourself up to trusting someone else."
"I was scared." I try to defend myself.
"Right. I get why you went to his apartment, but you invited him in to watch a movie after that."
"I’m not in love with this guy or something if that’s what you’re aiming at here."
"I’m not insinuating that you are. I don’t care if you just have a conversation with him. You need to make friends. Badly. I know for a fact that he has zero connection to Wilkes, so I’m telling you to go say thank you. You’re not afraid of him, so go and enjoy speaking to another human without fear."
Damn it. He’s right. Those moments with Adam, even amongst the chaos, were a breath of fresh air to starved lungs.
"Fine." I let out a huff, pretending to be frustrated when, in actuality, I’m freaking out.
"Go!" he demands then drops his head back against the couch, closing his eyes.
"You going to be okay?" I ask.
"I’ll survive," he responds, but he never looks back at me.
"I need a favor," I speak into the phone the minute my door shuts behind me.
"Anything, Slate," Jimmy says, and I can envision him pacing around the room as he answers this late-night call from me.
"Hire a PI and find out absolutely everything you can about Dave or Leo Roberts. He lives in apartment 108 here. And when I say everything, I mean everything—right down to what he had for breakfast yesterday and the porn he jerked off to last night."
"Are you in trouble?" he asks in that fatherly way I’ve come to expect from him.
"Not me. But I think someone is."
"Maybe you should come back. Go down to the beach house or up to the apartment in Chicago."
"Nah, I’m good. I got into a scuffle tonight though and I just want to get his backstory. He’s got a woman with him. Her name is Riley. He says they are related, but I’m not so sure," I respond, heading to the fridge, desperate for a drink to dull my anger. I snatch out a beer and open it with a loud pop.
"You drinking at two a.m.?" he asks, and I have to laugh.
"It’s four here."
"Well thank Christ for that. I was starting to worry about you."
I laugh mid-sip, causing beer to spray from my lips. "Oh yeah? Is drinking at two worse than drinking at four?" I ask while wiping my mouth on the back of my sleeve.
"Hell yeah. Two a.m. means you haven’t stopped yet. Four a.m. just means you are starting early," he says without a single hint of humor.
"I’ll keep that in mind." I smile to myself.
"So, you have anything other than a name and address?"
"Nope."
"You want to explain any of this to me?"
"Nope," I repeat then take another pull from my beer.
"I’ll see what I can do, Slate. If you’ve been jeopardized, you need to get out of there. Don’t let people find you or you will never be able to go back."
"Damn it, I know," I curse, more at the entire situation than his reminder.
"Right. Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I find something. I’m assuming money isn’t an issue on this one since you’re asking me."
"Whatever it costs, Jimmy. I just want answers."
"Give me a couple of days."
"Thanks," I say, but in true Jimmy Douglas fashion, he hangs up before I even finish the word.
I let out a relieved breath, knowing that soon I’ll be getting some answers.
"Fuck." I shouldn’t have left her with him, but what the hell was I supposed to do? She wouldn’t listen to me, and he almost even convinced me that he isn’t who she's afraid of. Almost. I think back to our conversation while she was getting the ice.
"My name is Adam," I said adamantly.
"No. Your name is Slate Andrews. I’m just trying to figure ou
t what the fuck you are doing here," he said, sliding his body up onto the couch. "And better yet, why you told her your name was Adam in the first place."
"Don’t say anything. Please," I pleaded.
"Are you more worried about your little secret than the fact that I held a gun to your head?"
"Yes," I answered honestly.
"And her?" His swollen eyes narrowed slightly.
His question left me puzzled. I didn’t know what he was asking or what answer I could possibly give him. "What about her?"
"See, I walk into my apartment tonight to find Riley curled into a ball. You were sound-ass asleep, and so was she, but her hand—" He paused to shake his head. "She had one hand reaching out, holding the arm you were propped up on. Damn it. I should have killed you when I had the chance."
"Oh yeah? How’d that last attempt work out for you?" I asked just to be a dick while wiping the nonexistent blood from my bottom lip.
"You could have killed me if it meant that she was okay," he announced oddly, and it quite honestly floored me. Who the fuck is this guy?
"Why the hell is she so terrified of everything? She was a fucking mess tonight. I’ve never seen a woman so afraid in my life. I swear to God, if I find out you had anything to do with that fear…" I stopped only to step in close. I know the walls are thin, and she was right next door. "I won’t stop next time," I solemnly swore. "There is not an army in the fucking world that could save you if I find out that you're responsible."
He cocked his battered and bruised head to the side with a sick sense of approval. But what really pissed me off most was the slight tip in his lips when he said, "I’ve never laid a fucking hand on her."
"Then what the hell is she so afraid of? Who are you to her?" I screamed as loud as my whisper would allow.
"I’m her family. Now, better question—what are you doing alone in my apartment with her?"
"I’m doing your fucking job. I’m looking out for her. Making sure she’s safe. She’s not okay. I really fucking hope you recognize that." I glared at him and his eyes immediately dropped to his lap.
"Hey." Riley suddenly appeared in the door, halting any further conversation.
I did everything I could short of dragging her away from him. And I would have done that if I’d thought it wouldn’t make me just as bad as he is. A barrage of images from the night flashes through my mind. I’ll never be able to forget how scared she was tonight, but the one picture in the forefront of my mind is that single moment when she smiled. Now that was amazing.
