Broken Love

by Ghiselle St. James

“What the fuck…do you want?” I glower at him, trying not to let him bait me.

  “I bet there are some things you want to know about our beloved, Delilah,” he puts forward.

  “My beloved,” I correct. The man is crazier than I’d thought. “From what I hear, she was never yours to begin with,” I affront with a taunting smirk.

  Rick slams a shackled fist down on the table and seethes, as much as his injured jaw will allow him, “That bitch was a fucking cock tease!”

  In a flash, I am on my feet and being held back by the big officer from finishing what I’d started in Lehigh County when I rescued Delilah.

  After being told to rein in my temper by both Morelli and the ADA, who came flying in after hearing the commotion, I sit vibrating with rage.

  “Don’t ever call her that again, you hear me?” I threaten.

  Rick holds his hands up in mock surrender as a smirk lifts the right side of his mouth. The prick.

  “I see she’s gotten to you already,” he remarks.

  “If you brought me here for nothing–”

  “I need you to get me a lesser sentence and get me sent back to New York,” he says, getting right to the point.

  A hollow laugh bursts from some dark place within me; some place where I kill Rick, burn his body and use his ashes in my fire place as I sit in front of it with a cigar and glass of Cognac in hand.

  Rick shifts in his chair, bringing my mind from that dark place. He’s angry. I can’t believe this guy.

  “I don’t know what world you live in where I would help you,” I tell him, still laughing as I rise to leave. “If you think that I’d help you, Rick, after all you’ve done to Delilah, then you’re not only a sick fuck, but you’re crazy.”

  I start walking and I hear his shackles jangling as he stops me with a death grip around my wrist using both of his hands.

  “I bet the media would have a field day about you consorting with a known criminal,” he says smugly, referring to Drake, and I stiffen beneath his hold. Fuck!

  Rick releases me and smiles like he’s won. I have to put my poker face on. He can’t know that he might have just gotten to me with that comment, but no way am I going to help him, not after what he’s done to my sweet girl. I’ll take my chances with Drake. Either of us mention him and we’re dead anyway. He would be a fool to use Drake as a bargaining chip. Idiot.

  “You act like you know something I don’t know, because as it stands, Mr. Mason, you’re the only criminal I’m consorting with at the moment. And considering I almost killed you if not for Big Surly over there…” I cock my head in the officer’s direction. “I would hardly consider us “consorting”,” I dismiss his threat with a smile.

  “You destroyed your one saving grace at a lesser sentence when you dropped the case against Delilah in New York. You’re not as calculating as I thought. Good try, though.” I tap the table in front of him with the knuckle of my index finger, taunting him.

  “You’re looking at twenty years, Mason, just serve your time like a good little bottom bitch.” I’m stoking his anger and I don’t care. Hoping that he reacts in the way I’m hoping he’ll react, I walk away.

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” Rick snarls as he lunges for me, wrapping his chains around my neck and squeezing.

  Okay, I expected anger, but not that he’d try to kill me!

  The big police officer pulls Rick off of me, but not before I deliver a crushing elbow to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him and having him loosen his death grip. That felt good.

  As we pull apart and I gasp for air, Rick growls in anger and frustration, trying to break free of the big police officer’s grip.

  “She’s gonna screw you over, you’ll see!” Rick spits. “She’s gonna make you fall in love with her, make you fucking possessive and obsessive. And when you can’t live without her, she’s gonna leave you and it’ll ruin you!”

  His words hit me like a bullet to the heart, but I refuse to believe anything he says at this point. He got burned – more like shot…twice – and went crazy, then got caught. That’s all it is. He’s angry because he got caught and he can’t manipulate his way out of a life sentence, but, fuck, if his spat didn’t rattle me a little.

  “She’s a siren and all she’ll do is lure you to your demise. Leave while you don’t know her,” he warns.

  Before I can respond that he’s just bitter, Morelli and the ADA rush in.

  “Yet another charge to add to your list, Mr. Mason. Take him out to the bus, Officer Gaines, it’s waiting at the back of the hospital,” ADA Anthony orders.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Hayes?” Morelli asks as I straighten to catch my breath.

  I nod, unable to form a coherent word from the clog of thoughts in my head. So, I admit, what Rick said got to me more than just a little.

  “What did he say?” Anthony questions.

  “He wanted me to get him a lesser sentence,” I answer after a pause.

  Anthony scoffs incredulously, “Did he really think you’d help him?” He eyes me curiously. “Unless he has something on you?”

  “He wishes he did. Tried to use some information he had on Delilah as a bargaining chip. I didn’t take the bait so he got pissed off,” I tell him, careful not to bring up the Drake bit.

  “Well then, he just added even another charge. He just keeps sinking himself deeper and deeper. At this rate he’ll never get out of prison,” Anthony assures.

  “Speaking of which,” I mutter. “I don’t want Delilah testifying. How much of a possibility is that?”

  “Well, with the DNA from her current rape kit matching the DNA from her New York rape kit, along with both of your statements, the phone recording and all that went on just now, she may not need to. But be prepared for his defense to call on her,” Marks explains. “That all depends on if he doesn’t plead guilty.”

  “Well, I guess you need to get him to plead guilty because she’s not testifying. She’s been through too much to be put through the ringer of a long trial,” I assert.

  “I agree with you, Mr. Hayes. That’s what we’re working on. I think we have a solid case against him. When I’m done with him and his lawyers, he’ll have no choice but to plead guilty.”

  “Thank you,” I say, extending my hand. We shake and Morelli leads me out.

  “A few of our officers were called to your house earlier. Heard the paps paid you a visit,” Morelli says.

  “Yeah, freaked Delilah out.”

  We step out into the cool Philadelphia air. I pull my jacket a little tighter, fishing out my gloves and slipping them on as Morelli does the same. It’s cold as a motherfucker out.

  “She’s been through so much, you know? I just want all this shit behind us now.”

  “I understand. I can’t imagine a woman going through all that shit and being sane, ya know? Take care of her, okay? If she were my daughter…” Morelli trails off and his jaw clenches, an angry shadow passing over his face, before he settles back into a professional mask.

  Delilah has affected him too and I wonder, for a moment, if Rick’s rants have any truth to them. I snort silently at that ridiculous notion. That would mean she has some freaky powers, which she doesn’t…right? I shrug off my wayward thoughts.

  “I know,” I agree with his unsaid sentiments.

  “And I will,” I promise, not just to him, but to myself.

  When I get in that evening, I hear laughter and music coming from the leisure room. I smile as I make my way inside, my mood instantly lifting. I won’t let anything Rick said ruin my mood or this happy moment Delilah is having with her family.

  The journey home was contemplative. Once again, I found myself thinking about what Rick said, but as I drove, something inside me settled. Delilah is here with me now and she isn’t running away. She might have a few secrets, but if I give her time she’ll tell me everything.

  Something else also settled inside of me.

  Did I really need to know about her past? She was over it and the
one thing that held her past over her head was now behind bars.

  I resolved that all of the shit and issues of her history were behind her and all we needed to do was move forward…together. At that point, I hated that I was giving Rick so much of my thoughts and I’d driven the rest of the way home with a huge smile on my face.

  I’d floored it after that, needing to get back to my woman. Tapping the steering wheel to David Grey’s This Year’s Love, I knew I was going to make it my life’s mission to show Delilah that I was good for her. No…perfect for her, as she is for me. I know that I love this woman. She is made for me, flaws and all, and I will kill anyone who tries to hurt her or take her from me. I might not have meant it before – when I had her in the limo after she was drugged and almost raped – but on my honor (and there’s not much of it), I will kill any motherfucker who dares try.

  There’s no other man for her either, and I will destroy anyone who tries to fuck with what we have. Rick is lucky he’s behind bars, but he better not try my patience any further. He says Delilah will leave me? Well she needs to realize that there’s no moving on for either of us, so she needs to get with the program…and quick.

  As I hang my keys on the key rack in the foyer, my smile grows wider and my heart skips a beat as I listen to my sweet girl’s rich laughter. This is what I want for the rest of my life with Delilah. Happy days, family time, and working through the rough patches. I’m already there, I just have to get her there as well because if there’s anything that this day and everything in it has taught me, it’s that my love for her goes beyond her present and sees beyond her secrets and past.

  In the leisure room, I see Delilah and her father dancing and singing, just like she said they always did (at least that was true), to Frank Sinatra’s New York, New York. It’s a beautiful moment to be witness to and gives me some insight into her family life.

  Despite everything I’m guessing she put them through, they are all quite close and it is obvious that they love her unconditionally. Maybe that’s what she needs from me. Maybe that’s what I haven’t given her. Everything has been very erotic and intense between us. I know her body. I seem to be the only one that can calm her down from a panic attack. But do I love her regardless?

  I do and she needs to know that I do.

  I let her mark me yesterday; stamping me as hers, imprinting her love on me, but I need her to know that nothing matters but us and where we go from here. She might be broken…but I love her anyway.

  “Ben!” Mrs. Keyes crows, bounding towards me with a huge smile on her face. “Dance with an old woman.”

  “Old? I assure you, Mrs. Keyes, old you are not. You are like fine wine and I would be honored to dance with a woman as beautiful as you.” I take her hand and kiss it as I pull her to me.

  She laughs aloud. It’s nothing like Delilah’s giggles or laughter, but it really is a wonderful sound.

  “Oh, sweetheart, how many times must I remind you…it’s Wilhemina,” she corrects me – for the umpteenth time – shaking her head, lustrous greying strands falling over her eyes. “And please be reminded that I’m a married woman. Save those words for sweeping my daughter off her feet.”

  “Alas, it seems she already has been swept.” I look over at Delilah smiling adoringly at her father as he says something – undoubtedly sweet and caring – to her.

  As if she can sense me looking at her, those chocolate brown eyes of hers find mine. She blows me a kiss and I wink at her. From where I stand I can see her sigh. She rests her head on her father’s chest and keeps her focus on me as he sways her.

  We don’t break eye contact as we dance with our partners. I feel such a strong pull toward her. My desire for her intensifies but I am the first to break away for fears that I may get aroused. It wouldn’t be a good thing to sport a hard-on while dancing with her mother; though I think Delilah would get a kick out of it. My twisted girl.

  “May I cut in?” Mr. Keyes requests, tapping me on the shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed he and Delilah had pulled apart.

  “It was a pleasure dancing with you, Mrs. Keyes.” I give her a bow then kiss her hand again before handing her over to her husband.

  “I think my mom likes you,” Delilah comments, eyeing me while her father whisks her laughing mom into a waltz.

  “Too bad I’m taken.” I smirk, taking her hand and kissing it. “May I have this dance, Miss Keyes?”

  “You may, Mr. Hayes, but my father left big shoes to fill. Can you manage?” she teases.

  “Oh, I’d like to try, Miss Keyes.” I pull her to me. “Shall we?”

  The song changes and Delilah and I start dancing to Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night. We smile at each other, hearing the words as they play out. Old Blue Eyes seemed to have sung this song just for us.

  I clutch her hand in mine, loving the way she just fits, as I place a palm at the small of her back. Easily, she rests her cheek on my chest, closes her eyes and we fall into a smooth rhythm. Her body molds against mine like a puzzle piece – heart, body, mind and soul clicking in place to make something beautiful. How can she not see it? I smile because I know she will. She won’t be able to fight for much longer.

  It feels so right, so comfortable, her being in my arms. We cling to each other and we lose ourselves in the moment and the words of the song.

  I don’t know how much time goes by, but by the time I open my eyes, the leisure room is quiet and empty, save for Delilah and I.

  “When did they all leave?”

  Delilah only shrugs and sighs contentedly into my chest, closing her eyes once more, as we sway.

  The music has changed again and I hear what I think is Bob Marley.

  “Who is that?” I ask, just to be sure.

  “Bob Marley,” she confirms my assumption.

  “Mmm,” I murmur. “Sing it for me,” I command her softly. If I’d asked her she would have room to say no, but my girl loves being told what to do, though she plays stubborn.

  Delilah’s head slowly leaves my chest and I feel bereft of her warmth. A warm glow of love surrounds me as those big brown eyes peer up at me, and I tip my head down, kissing her sweetly.

  When I pull away, she clears her throat and the most beautiful, raspy, soulful sound comes out; a sound that registers deep down into my soul; that reverberates through my entire body.

  “I wanna love you, I wanna love and treat you, love and treat you right,” she sings and I am lost in her voice.

  She sings with pure feeling and I feel every word she says more than I feel it from the actual singer. Such a beautiful voice. She’s enraptured me…just like Rick said she would. Unlike him, though, I want to be enraptured. I want to be enveloped by her love. I want desperately to be loved by this woman, just like the words of the song say.

  “I do want to, you know?” she says, as though she’s read my mind.

  My gaze drops to her face and I see her eyes. They are big and watery.

  “I want to love you, Ben.”

  I raise our interlocked hands and I rub my thumb across her lips. “I know, Delilah.”

  “Let me love you, Ben,” she says, a tear escaping her beautiful eyes.

  “Yes,” I breathe, and she kisses me…long and hard. Soon, we are lost to our passion, lost to everything, as we make love on the soft white carpeting of the leisure room to the soulful voice of Bryan Adams’s I’m Ready.

  Perfection.

  Chapter Twenty

  After our lovemaking, we get dressed, just in time as Simon appears at the entryway and announces that Simone is here. Delilah squeals and kisses me before running off to meet her friend. Like a puppy, I follow after her; shaking my head and smiling at how utterly whipped I am.

  Delilah is a joy to behold when she’s in her element; when she’s not scared, or screaming from a nightmare, or suffering from some panic attack or another because of some heartless paparazzi.

  I’m up on the deck with the rest of her family having a Sam Adams. Delilah, Rac
hel and Simone are sitting on a blanket on the grass and have wrapped themselves in a huge Afghan my Mom bought for me when she’d visited Germany a year ago. They’re overlooking the boathouses on the river, chatting away. It’s damp, but thankfully there’s no snow and the air is, at best, chilly, compared to earlier.

  Delilah is funny, charming, loud, beautiful…enchanting. You can’t help but focus on her when she’s in a room (or out of one in this case). Even when she’s not saying a word, the energy radiating from her body, the beauty of her smile, the light in her eyes, the soft glow of her skin is enough to captivate you. And if she looks at you, for a moment, your heart stops and, in that same moment, you’re a fly caught in her web.

  That’s what happened the first time I’d laid eyes on her. I was caught in the caress of her eyes, drawn to her like – yes, I’m about to be cliché – magnet to steel. Did I have it this bad for her even then?

  As I rivet my gaze on the beautiful ray of sunshine talking animatedly with her two closest friends, with the Schuylkill River in the background and the lit boathouses in the distance, I think of all the places I want to take her; how much I want to give her everything; how much I want to take care of her, possibly even for the rest of our lives. I snort to myself.

  There’s no possibility about it. That’s a guarantee.

  Forever.

  I’ve never had someone that I have thought forever with before. For a man like me who doesn’t do attachment unless it truly benefits me in some way, the word should scare me; but when I think of a forever with Delilah, my heart does this weird swelling and my stomach does an even weirder flipping and my brain – well, it checks out.

  She is so beautiful with her hair whipping in the breeze, and as she reaches up to brush the hair from her face, she stills, a broad grin painting her face. She senses me staring, turns and winks at me and the blood in my head swims in a rush to my now-hardening dick – which seems to miss her very much. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of her.

  I smile adoringly at her, trying to compose myself. Silently, I reason with myself as to why I shouldn’t go over there now, haul her up from the grass, throw her over my shoulder, then take her to my room and fuck her into tomorrow.