by Aubrey Cara
Right now, I can lie to myself about our situation being temporary. Moving in together would mean it’s real and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. People I care about have a way of always leaving.
Which is another reason I like being at John’s, because I can tiptoe across the hall in the middle of the night to check on my brother. I need to assure myself he’s there and alive. When I’m at Hank’s I have to force myself not to call and check on Dylan twenty times in the middle of the night. I know I have to stop doing that. If he passes a psych evaluation in two months he’ll be gone. His plans to join the army haven’t changed, but after everything that happened they want to make sure he doesn’t have PTSD going on.
I think Dylan may be doing much better than me. Maybe being a Dawson male makes him born to mentally withstand getting beaten bloody. This time they broke his leg and dislocated his shoulder. His shoulder is fine now, but he’s still in a cast for his leg for another two weeks.
If he’s having any nightmares or anxiety from it all I can’t tell. He actually seems different now. Stronger even. Maybe it’s because him getting picked up by Dom’s men offered him the opportunity to be heroic. He’d given himself up when he found out they were after him, allowing Byron to get away.
“You don’t look like you’re up for working tonight,” Hank says, shifting up.
“Geez. Seriously, I’m fine.”
The muscles in his arms flex from knuckle to shoulder as he braces himself on the back of the couch. His jaw ticks. I can tell he wants to call me out for snapping at him. Maybe threaten to spank my fanny. But he doesn’t.
And I’m…disappointed.
He’s been like this ever since we were taken by Dom—or Huntington, rather. Whatever his name is, I hate him. Sometimes I wonder if Hank just feels obligated to care for me. They say bonding through a traumatic event is normal and healthy. I read up on it, and everything I read said it is normal and healthy, but shouldn’t be confused with love.
I definitely feel confused. I’m not sure what love feels like. A part of me feels like I’ll crumble to ashes if I leave Hank. The other part of me wants to leave and save Hank from himself. He feels responsible for me. He wants to save me, but he doesn’t have to. I’ve always taken care of myself. Why should now be any different?
Also, everyone knows it’s smarter to leave someone before they can leave you.
The thing about leaving is, I worry about him too. A part of me died when I thought he might be dead. I haven’t told him, but I feel anxious whenever he’s not around. Not because I’m scared for me, but because I’m terrified something will happen to him. I feel the same way about Dylan, but with Hank it’s worse.
I don’t want him taken away from me. Not ever again.
“You shouldn’t be on your foot,” I say. His doctor put him in a boot cast last week and he’s been walking around way too much. He’s a horrible patient.
“Why don’t you come get me off my feet?” I know what he’s doing. He’s hoping if we have sex, I’ll take a nap. It worked well for a while, but it’s not enough anymore. I’m too strung tight with anxiety. I’m not sure why I feel so anxious. Whatever the reason, I’m up for the distraction.
His eyes are twinkling. The fire is banked but I’d like to see if I can make it blaze. “I don’t know, daddy. I’m not really in the mood.” Even as I say it I feel a hot rush of heat between my legs. My pulse picks up another notch when he chuckles, a low rumble that makes my nipples pebble.
“I find that surprising, princess.” He leisurely runs a hand up my bare leg and up between my thighs, playing his fingers in light whispers over my sex. He has to know I’m wet for him, but he shrugs, a wicked smile pulling his lips. “I guess we’ll just have to go lay down.”
He pulls his t-shirt over his head. Even recovering from a gunshot wound he’s still been working out, and it shows. His chest and abs are all well-defined, hard man. He lets me look my fill before walking away. John took Dylan to the bar with him to get him out of the house, so we have the place to ourselves.
He gets to the hall and calls, “Are you coming, princess?”
“Not yet, daddy. But if you’re lucky in a minute we’ll both be.”
“Just a minute? You’re making it too easy on me.”
“You are a cripple.”
“Careful little girl, or the only person who will be coming in a minute will be me.” His threat sends delicious tingles through me. I want more. To push him. It’s a sick new game I’ve been playing; seeing how far I can go to try to get punished.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I take off my clothes and get down on my knees, slowly crawling across the space to the hall where he stands. Opening his pants, I take out his hard cock. I lick the length, before nipping his ball sack and raking my nails down his thigh.
Twining his fist in my hair he yanks my head back hard enough my eyes water.
“Is that how it’s going to be?”
I snap my teeth closed in answer and he pries my lips open wide. Shoving his cock in my mouth and down my throat, he holds it there until I gag and can’t breathe. I don’t know why, but this is something I love. Gagging on his cock makes my panties flood, every time. He braces himself on the wall, doing this again and again, until he’s spilling down my throat in pulses while groaning above me. I nearly come from his rough treatment, but I need more.
He runs a gentle finger down my cheek, his gaze intent. “I’m sorry, princess.” I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for the rough blow job or the fact that he knows what I need and won’t give it to me.
I look up at him wanting to plead with him to give me more. I know it doesn’t make sense, but the darkness that has been creeping into my veins for the past two months demands more.
Besides some mild spankings and orgasm denial, he doesn’t take things past a little rough sex. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.
I’m just not sure how to ask for it and if I do, if he’ll give it to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CANDI
There’s something I haven’t told Hank, and I’m reminded of the fact the second we pull into the parking lot of Rusty Spur. I flash with hot and cold when I see her car already parked there. Kat Martin, the girl Cody attacked.
“What is she doing here?” I ask.
“Who?” Hank asked, putting the 4Runner in park.
“Kat,” I say pointing to her car.
“Oh, I think she’s filling in for Isaac or something.” He looks over at me questioningly. “Is that a problem?”
Now would be the perfect time to spill my guts, but instead I say, “No-no. It’s fine. She just…isn’t very pleasant to work with. She doesn’t much like me.” Which is true. She always looks at me like she’d throat punch me given half the chance.
Hank smiles, his eyes going soft and he leans in to kiss me. Just a soft meeting of lips, but still it sends a warm tingle through me. “I haven’t worked with her much but she seems a tough nut. I wouldn’t take it personally,” he says, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
If only he knew.
“Are you coming, princess? It’s time to earn your keep,” he says standing with his door open.
“I thought that’s what I did this afternoon.” It comes out harsher than the suggestive tease I’d intended it to be.
“You know, I don’t know what your deal is lately, but you could really use a good—” he breaks off awkwardly his lips going tight. “Come on, Candi.”
“I’ll be in right behind you.”
He looks at me tensely for a minute, and I think he wants to say something, but he just nods his head. “Okay, just don’t take too long. It looks like it’s already starting to get busy.” He shuts his door and I watch him walk to the back door of the bar and let himself in.
Hank opened up about getting dishonorably discharged for beating an officer half to death during his last tour. He had caught the man brutally raping a girl from one of the villages they
were near. It had been Hank’s word against his and the officer had connections.
He also told me about his mother. What it was like growing up with a prostitute mother. Finding her dead. Being shipped off to his religious grandmother’s and then his father’s, and then joining the Marines as soon as he was able.
His dark past is more heartbreaking than my own and just goes to show how honorable and strong he is, and how not worthy I am to be with him. He looked down on me when we first met, and now I believe he was right too. I’m not a good person. Not even close to how good he is.
I haven’t even told him Cody is Kat’s attacker, and the guilt has been gnawing at me a little more every day. I think I might have rambled off his name to the FBI while they were taking my statement, but if the DEA or FBI brought Cody in for questioning I haven’t heard about it. And it certainly wouldn’t have been for the attack on Kat.
For weeks now I’ve been pointedly making sure my shifts don’t coincide with hers. She’s never liked me, but now she has just cause to hate me. I know who attacked her and I haven’t said anything. At first I had forgotten about Cody, and what he’d done. My world narrowed down to pretending everything was normal and all the crap with Dom never happened.
By the time I started working again, I’d blocked it from my mind until I overheard Kat’s boyfriend telling her friend Mimi that she was still having anxiety attacks. Kat is going through what I’m going through, but the person who haunts her nightmares isn’t behind bars. Every man who touched me. Every horrible thing I saw. Every horrible thing that happened. It had all been because of Dom. And Dom, or Maxwell Huntington, is behind bars waiting for trial.
I may be worried about him not being convicted. Hell, I might not rest easy until he’s dead, but I know who he is. I know his name. I know his location.
I’ve asked myself many times how much worse it would be if I didn’t know who had taken me, my brother, and Hank, or why. If we’d just been through what we’d been through and had to jump at shadows.
That’s what Kat is living and I’ve done that to her, all so I don’t have to stir the pot. My brother’s involvement with Dom has been swept under the rug. His crime was small fries to the DEA and FBI. To them he’s just a dumb kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The local police, on the other hand, may want to take umbrage with my brother’s misdeeds. As far as I know the police have had little to no involvement with the case. The takedown of Maxwell Huntington hasn’t gone to the media. They’re keeping it quiet until they have a conviction.
I want desperately to let sleeping dogs lie, but every time I see Kat—get a glimpse of the same dark shadows under her eyes that occupy my own—it eats at me.
I yank my hair at the root and blow out a frustrated breath. God, I wish I had a cigarette. Hell, every day I wish I could have a cigarette. Lord, but I chose a lousy time to quit. Grabbing my purse up, I hop out, locking the door behind me.
I’m halfway to the door when I hear, “Hey, Candi, can we talk?”
My back stiffens and I turn. Great, just great. “Cody, what are you doing here?” I hadn’t thought I’d ever have to see his face again, and I’m not a bit happy to have to him standing in front of me.
“I miss you.”
I roll my eyes. I so don’t need this right now. “You’re going to keep on missing me.”
“Why you gotta be like that, Candi girl?”
“Like what? An ex-girlfriend? We’re over Cody. Hell, I’m seeing someone else.”
His hand snaps across my face before I even realize what’s happening. “You’re not seeing anyone else,” he snarls in my face. His crystal blue eyes, I used to think were pretty, look wild and mean. “You’re my girl, and it’s time you start acting like it.”
I clutch my stinging cheek and he grabs my arm, dragging me to his truck. “Get the fuck off me, Cody.” I yank back my arm. I’ve had my quota of being manhandled by insane assholes. “I said we’re through. I’m never taking your shit again!” Or anyone else’s for that matter.
“We’re through whenever the fuck I say we’re through. Get in the fucking truck now, bitch.”
Anger and spite blaze through me. Pulling back my foot, I kick him in the leg. I kick him as hard as I can. I’m wearing boots and I know it has to hurt, but it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. “Ugh, are you high, you money stealing bastard?” I finally wrench my arm out of his hold. Of course he’s high. And now I’m pissed he’s robbed me of the satisfaction of hurting him. “You don’t even know how much you fucked up my life. You don’t even care. I hate you so much. Why don’t you go do another line of coke and let me get back to work?”
Pain explodes over my cheek with the crack of his fist. The strike sending me sprawling back in the gravel.
“You’re a stupid girl, Candice Dawson,” he says standing over me.
My vision swims as I move to hands and knees, the gravel biting at me. “Oomph.” All the air leaves me in a rush when his boot connects with my stomach.
“What we had was good. You’re going to pay for leaving me.”
Coughing, I curl into a ball, fighting for breath as I clutch my stomach as he kicks me again.
Oh god, I survived being taken and almost sold by a drug boss, and I’m going to get killed by this asshole. This is karma. I didn’t turn him into the police and I’m being punished for it.
Out of nowhere I hear a banshee scream and look up. Kat cracks a mop handle over Cody’s back like a madwoman. She’s not a big person, but hell if she doesn’t pack a wallop. Cody stumbles and comes back swinging. He punches Kat in the face hard enough she’s knocked to the ground with an umph.
She scrambles back up from the gravel and grabs the mop. Murder in her eyes. Holy crap, Kat’s a badass. From out of nowhere a huge guy railroads Cody into the tailgate of his truck. His fist is like a sledgehammer, smashing into Cody’s face again and again.
Gravel bites into my hands and knees as I stand up and move out of the way. I’m pretty sure that’s Kat’s boyfriend, Caleb. He was a Navy Seal or something and he’s a beast of a man.
I hear the sick crunch of bone breaking and run to stop the guy from killing Cody, but Kat holds me back. Hank is coming out the back door moving much faster than he should be with his foot still healing.
“Stop him, he’s going to kill him!” I scream at Hank, but it’s for selfish reasons. I’m more worried about Kat’s boyfriend being sent to prison for killing Cody, and it will be my fault. Because I hadn’t called the cops on him the second I learned what he’d done.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I’m not sure who I’m saying it to, I just can’t stop saying it.
Hank pulls Kat’s boyfriend off Cody who is lying on the ground trying to lift himself back up. I’m not paying attention to him. My eyes are on Hank. He walks over and smooths my hair out of my face. His jaw tenses as he turns my face. “I should have let that guy kill him.”
“No, no, this is my fault, all my fault.”
Hank’s brows scrunch up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I knew, I knew what he’d done and I didn’t say anything—”
“Baby, you’re not making sense.” Suddenly Hank’s attention is on something over my shoulder and he shoves me, knocking me over. We’re still falling when the shot rings out like a canon, followed by a scream that makes my veins run cold. Hank’s body wrapped around mine as we hit the ground.
Seconds later Cody’s truck peels out of the parking lot. I look over and…Kat, Kat’s been shot. She’s on the ground and there’s blood, so much blood. Everything blurs. There’re police sirens and Hank is calling an ambulance.
Two squad cars pull up and there are people everywhere. There are officers helping Kat. One of the officer’s asks if anyone knows who the assailant is. It snaps me out of my numb daze.
“Cody Matthews,” I say with more strength than I knew I had in me. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. He was also the one who attacked
Kat back in December.” It feels good to say it out loud. To know he’s going to prison.
On the ground, Kat hears me and screams, “I’m going to kick your ass! You knew, you knew and you said nothing, you bitch!”
“I’m sorry!” I’m sorrier than Kat will ever know. I could have prevented all of this. Hank’s frowning down at me, and I know he’s wondering why I never turned Cody in. Why I didn’t say anything. “He was blackmailing me, and I had to protect my brother,” I try to explain. “I had to protect my brother.” I’m fisting his shirt over his chest, praying he’ll understand, but his face goes hard.
“You’ve taken protecting your brother way too far, way too many times. You’ve known this for months and you said nothing to me. Again. When are you going to start trusting me, huh Candi?”
“I do, I do trust you.”
“Really, that’s why I’m finding out about this now? ‘Cause you trust me?”
The ambulance arrives and we watch as Kat is loaded up while giving the police our statements. There are still squad cars in the parking lot when Hank starts getting people to shuffle back inside.
“Come on Candice, let’s get some ice on your face.”
I clutch my stomach as we walk inside and head to the back room. Hank notices and moves my hand, lifting my shirt. “Jesus,” he curses, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stalks out and I look down to see the toe imprint of a boot already bruising on my diaphragm.
He strides back in, his face dark. He says nothing as he hands me ice wrapped in a bar towel.
“I’m sorry, Hank.”
“Sit down and put the damn ice on your face.”
I do what he says, looking up at him scowling down at me. “Are you going to talk to me?” I hate that he’s angry at me. I know he’s got every right to be pissed, but I at least want him to yell at me or something.
“I can’t do this right now. I have a bar to run and I’m sure John’s caught wind of this and is on his way. We’ll talk about this later,” he says giving me one last disappointed look before going back inside.
