by V. L. Holt
I slapped my hand to my forehead.
“What?” Zack asked me, concern etching his voice.
“I’ve troubled you enough for one lifetime,” I muttered. I grabbed up my big bag, recalled with depression that my gun was gone, and fixed my stole so it was firmly about my shoulders.
“Come on, Lauren,” he said my name! He said my name!
“You know the worst thing about me,” he said. “You can tell me what’s bothering you,” he continued. He followed me off, his steps matching my own.
I battled within myself. Tell him about Ray? Tell him about the gun? Tell him I had the hots for him and had ever since he’d taken off his ski mask? Oh but I was kinky. I shook my head.
“Lauren,” he reached out and stopped me from walking. “You once told me that I shouldn’t be afraid to ask for the help that I needed. Just tell me what you need,” he said. His voice was firm and deep. I remembered feeling cradled in his chest just a few nights ago when my body was trying to go into shock. It would feel so good to unburden myself on his broad shoulders! We could tell each other all of our cares! I could help him and he could help me, and we could be strong together!
I turned so I faced him completely. I felt a heightened sense of my femininity as I stood before him. My stole covered my shoulders and upper arms, but my black gown had a deep V plunge, revealing my pale skin and lush cleavage. My legs were shapely from all the walking I did around town, and I knew that my makeup was flawless. My hair was mostly up in a French twist, but tendrils had fallen about my face and tickled my neck. I knew I looked the best I had looked in a while, and I had done it for him. Well, maybe not the makeup. That was just inborn. But the dress, and the posture, and the leaning in to him, and the wanting…that was all him.
I was going to do it. I was going to ask for his help.
I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.
“Lauren! Lauren!” a male voice called. A male voice belonging to Ray. We turned to see him running up the street, his face lightening and darkening as he passed under streetlights.
“Zack!” I said. I looked at him with my eyes wide open. I wanted to communicate all my troubles but Ray was right there, and he took my arm possessively, and I saw Zack’s face darken like a raincloud, and it was a good thing Ray had already taken my gun or I would have shot him dead right then, for interrupting my moment with Zack.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” Zack said with a tight smile. He nodded at Ray’s smug look and turned to go.
“Zack, wait!” I called to him.
He stopped and cocked his head, but he didn’t turn to look at me. I had to think of something fast. We were finally coming to some kind of understanding right before Ray showed up. Yes, I had to iron out some crappy wrinkles in my personal life, but I was thinking it could work with Zack. It could.
“You were right! What you said earlier about the connection and the help part too!” I said. It sounded like gibberish to Ray, which was just fine by me. If it took secret code to get Ray fed up enough to leave, then you could call me double-oh sixteen and give me a pen that shoots.
I watched Zack take a deep breath, but he still didn’t turn around. My heart sunk. He walked off.
Ray had me by the other elbow, and I was about getting sick of men thinking they could control me by working my arm like a flippin’ television remote control. I shook him off.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked him and began trotting so he had to run to keep up. Then I remembered my gun.
“Where is my .40 Smith & Wesson?” I put my hand on my hip.
“Come on, let’s get out of the street and head home,” Ray said, ignoring my question.
“No. It is not your home. It is my home. And you have my gun. Give it to me,” I said. I used my best Grandma Plinkett voice. She could freeze the warts off a toad with a single glance.
Ray’s face darkened in anger. “How many times do I need to explain that we belong together, baby? Now come on,” he took my arm quite a bit harder than before.
I looked over at him, and for the first time maybe realized I was in too deep. This went way beyond a guy playing helpless mooch and crossed over into jealous and possessive rage territory. Crap.
Something told me my mouth wouldn’t get me out of this jam tonight. I had to hope he wouldn’t try to assault me, and it would be assault…I hadn’t felt desire for him in well over half a year. I swallowed and jogged along with him pulling my arm.
I craned my neck to see behind us, hoping I’d see Zack watching my back. But he was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Zack cussed at himself all the way back to the hostel. Two days on the job. Four days since he met, er, mugged, Lauren. She was all he could think about. Even his headaches ebbed when he thought about her. Spending time with her was like solving long division with no remainders. It was therapeutic. He sighed. Because he needed to focus on his long term goal, and obsessing over Lauren was distracting him.
The long term goal was that he would save up enough money to get to Dr. Mario Gutierrez’ clinic in Bethesda, Maryland. Then he was going to rely on the mercy and kindness of the doctor to help him out. He figured he could offer to help clean the building or wax the good doctor’s car or who knows what else. If the treatment was experimental, he needed experiments, right? He’d be the best dang guinea pig Dr. Gutierrez could ask for. Unfortunately, that was the extent of Zack’s planning.
While the hostel was cheaper than a motel, he still had to eat. He still had to do laundry. And take the train and any other number of expenses, and he’d had a hard time holding down any job. Lonely Nights seemed like a good place to be for him and a good match.
The little bit of action he would get might be just enough to stave off some of the stress the doctor wrote about in his research article. For guys like him, an easy environment was more stressful to his system because he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He couldn’t relax or focus. Working as a bouncer, he could count on a little bit of activity at least once a week, but nothing that would land him in the VA hospital, or anyone else for that matter. Easy peasy.
Zack tried to get comfortable in the narrow hostel bed. It squeaked and whistled, being a plastic mattress that was easy to disinfect. It was also made for someone about a foot shorter than he, but the sheets smelled of bleach so that was good. Nighttime was the worst, of course.
It used to be because he could see the flames and smoke and sparks from the IED that hit their convoy. He still did sometimes, but ever since the night his bad judgment brought him together with Lauren, he’d been falling asleep thinking of her.
It was easy to do, since he thought about her all day every day. Then she wears an outfit like she did tonight. He closed his eyes and brought it all back.
The gown was floor length with high slits on each side. Her gorgeous legs were visible all the way up to mid-thigh. She was wearing some kind of shoe with long straps that wound around and around her calves and had a silver shimmer. The neckline was everything a hot-blooded man could desire and her hair up in the back made her graceful white neck look long and slim. How he longed to touch her skin!
He’d thought they’d had a moment, there on the train.
Why was he going for a girl who was unavailable? He reviewed their acquaintance over the last few days. He’d never asked for more than an acquaintance. She was the one prying for information, hugging freely, sharing openly. He guessed that was just her personality. The more he reflected though, in all of her openness, she’d never claimed to be single or available. She’d never offered more than friendship. While it was more than he was willing to give at first, her offering never promised she didn’t have a big good-looking guy waiting at home.
He was angry at himself. But, in the end it didn’t matter. The endgame here was him leaving anyway. It’s not like he had any kind of future to offer a beautiful talented girl.
He wondered about the man that met her off the train. What did t
hat lucky stiff have going for him? Was he some kind of corporate man? Business owner? Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief? What kind of guy let his girl wander around Detroit alone, anyway?
Zack sat up in bed. She’d had three potentially violent interactions in four freaking days. Two of them in one night, no thanks to him. He could smack himself any time he thought about it. But seriously…if Lauren was his, he’d make doubly sure she was safe anywhere she went. If he couldn’t escort her himself, he’d hire a cab. He’d make sure she was packing and that she knew how to use it. He’d teach her everything he learned in Basic about self-defense and hand to hand combat. He sure as heck wouldn’t let her roam around Detroit wearing a dress slit up to here and cut down to there.
Zack had no respect for the man, whoever he was. He’d turned away before he could see anything he didn’t think he could handle seeing. Like a reunion kiss, for example.
He was glad he’d avoided kissing her on the train after all. He’d wanted nothing more than to touch her tender red lips with his own and breathe in her voice. He’d heard her sing, shout, laugh and talk. He wanted to hear her sigh in pleasure. Except she wasn’t his to please.
Well, knowing she was taken would make his job all the easier. He could ignore her when he knew there was a man on the sidelines. He didn’t think she was married. He would have noticed a ring. Her relationship status wasn’t his business though, and the sooner he realized that the better. He popped some more ibuprofen before hitting the sack. Tomorrow would be a busy day. He was going to head over to Dave’s and try to settle up for the rest of his rent. He was also working the lounge again, though Brenda said Sundays were really slow. He hoped the medicine started working soon. He was going to feel pretty guilty dreaming about another man’s woman just to get rid of his headache.
He wondered what her last words to him meant, exactly.
“You were right! About the connection and about the help part too!”
What was she saying about their connection? Was she saying she felt it for him too, not just with the audience? And the help part…asking for help. Holy crap! She was asking for help! He was a stupid idiot! He pulled on his jeans and grabbed a clean undershirt and top. He didn’t know where she lived, but he’d bet doughnuts to dollars Brenda was still at the lounge. He just had to get there before Brenda left for the night. Brenda would have Lauren’s address.
He had a terrible feeling about the whole thing. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own life, he would have gotten her cues earlier. He cussed himself all the way to Lonely Nights. A tired looking Matt informed him that Brenda had just left in a rush and was actually looking for him. He burst out the door and tried to guess which way Brenda would have driven. She would have his address at the hostel. He would do his best to catch up to her. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but if Brenda wanted him, it could only be because she remembered his former career. If that bastard did something to Lauren…he left it at that. It was easy to talk, but he didn’t have the whole story yet. He could keep calm. The medicine was working, or maybe the adrenaline jolt was just what his messed up brain chemistry needed. Whatever. He wouldn’t feel 100% better until Lauren was in his arms. He needed to kiss that woman badly. Yep. He was pretty sure that was just what the doctor ordered.
Chapter Eighteen
“I still want my gun back,” I said. We were in my apartment. I was brewing a cup of tea and he was standing sentry at my door. He said nothing, but kept looking at his bags I’d left scattered around the living room.
I was trying to gauge the danger level. My purse was nearby. No gun of course, but I had a phone and I wasn’t afraid to use it. If only Ray hadn’t come to meet my train. I could have asked Zack to come home with me. I could have explained everything and I bet he would have helped! Instead I was holed up with a possibly psycho ex while trying to pretend that I wasn’t scared spitless.
“Ray?” I called. “My gun?”
He frowned and stalked over to me, standing in my personal space. My mind ticked off nearby items. Hot teakettle, paring knife, teacup, spoon. My body was priming for self-preservation mode. What a horrible way for my night to end, I thought. It had been so wonderful, meeting Zack’s eyes across the Lonely Nights lounge.
“You don’t need your piece anymore, Lulu,” Ray said. He put his hand around my waist and slowly pulled me to him. “I’m going to go with you everywhere you go,” he said. He brought his other hand up to my cheek, and where I’d almost melted into Zack when he did the same thing, this time my body froze up and revulsion crawled up my throat like a diseased toad. How was I going to fix this whole mess?
“Ray,” I said in my sweetest Southern Texas drawl, “be a sugar for me and get the honey out of that cupboard?” I gestured with my head and gave his side a little squeeze. I hoped he would buy my ruse because I really wasn’t feeling it.
He paused but then broke away to grab the honey. I got the teapot and swung it hard at his head. The only problem was he was expecting it, and he snatched my slender wrist mid-strike and twisted.
Snap!
I gasped audibly, and immediately felt the cold bone shivers start radiating from the center of my belly. Oh. My. God in Heaven. I was going to go into shock and Ray had just broken my wrist like it was a Jack in the Box prize. Tears sprung to my eyes. I took a big gulp of air.
“Ray, what did you go and do that for?” I asked him in a whisper.
He pulled my body to him and pressed his full hard length against me. He ground his words out.
“You tried to hit me, Lulu. What kind of a girl does that? You’ve been trying to get rid of me. I just figured you were going through a phase. I figured you’d come to your senses. Now when I was trying to be a gentleman, you aimed at my head with that thing. I don’t think any cop in Detroit would blame me for trying to protect myself,” he said in my ear. His hands groped up and down my body, pinching my butt and my breasts, but I didn’t even care. My wrist hurt so bad that all my nerve endings were screaming, WRIST=PAIN! Over and over again. More tears squeezed out of my eyes. I wanted Zack. I wanted Zack really bad right now.
“Zack,” I whimpered out loud.
Ray’s groping stopped.
“What did you say? Zack? Was that the guy that walked you off the train? Is he the guy you’ve been trying to dump me for?” He shouted in my face. His breath stank of Johnny Walker and sour milk and foul deeds. He was almost as drunk as Cooter Brown.
He had my good wrist, my left one, in a tight grip while I held my right arm close to my body, hand up by my heart to ease the throbbing.
That’s why I couldn’t protect my face when he hauled off and hit my right cheek so hard my head snapped sideways. I felt a warm gush of blood inside my mouth, and my tongue sprang to the spot to check for loose teeth. The inside of my cheek was busted, and the thick flow of blood was threatening to choke me.
Ray sneered at me.
“You don’t look too hot right now, Lulu. I think I’ll let you get cleaned up. Then I expect you in my bed,” he said.
I was sure I looked a sight. My cheek was swelling up, my tears probably smeared my thick black eyeliner down my face, and I thought my lip was split too.
I nodded at Ray, afraid to speak. As much as it pained me to admit it, I had the worst taste in men since any of Henry the 8th’s wives. It also pained me to admit that I had once felt affection for Ray, who must have been quite possibly the stupidest man alive. While he was in my bedroom, expecting to have sex with my body, I was caressing my insurance with my bad hand and cradling it in my left. My .40 Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol had been stuffed down the back of his pants, and when he turned to walk away from me, I lifted it as soft and gentle as a newborn kitten. Daddy taught me how to pickpocket too, but I never used that talent. Much.
I had two bullets stashed in my kitchen drawer, but I was pretty sure there were some already chambered in the magazine. I abhorred violence though, so as much as I wanted to shoot Ray in the head as many d
ang times as I could, I grabbed my purse from off the floor and quietly slipped out the door of my apartment and ran down the stairs. I was still wearing my long gown and my leggings and my sneakers, thank gosh. He would notice me missing right about…now, and I shot out of the ramshackle apartment building and ran down the street. Adrenaline had me pain-free. I was running as far as my feet would carry me. I ducked down an alley and came out on another road, and kept going. At 3am there weren’t too many people out to question why a woman was tearing through the streets with a gun in her left hand and blood running down her chin.
I found an alcove to a building, and looked all around. Ray wouldn’t be able to find me just yet, so I pulled my phone out and dialed Brenda.
“Brenda, you hotta come het me,” I told her. My tongue and mouth weren’t working quite right. “I’m about a huarter mile west of Chestnut and Elm,” I said through tears and a hiccup.
She told me she’d be right there, and I waited. My wrist was starting to hurt again, bad, so as much as I wanted to dig through my purse and clean myself up, I just held my wrist to my chest and cried.
I waited and waited, and finally heard a car come up the street. I poked my head out of the alcove and recognized Brenda’s jeep. I stepped out and waved at her, and the jeep stopped on a dime in the middle of the road. Two figures came out.
It was Brenda and a man, a tall strong man with broad shoulders and the gait of a trained Army Ranger, wearing a red flannel shirt over a bright white T-shirt and blue jeans. Basically, a knight in shining armor disguised as the poster child for Bad Boys of Detroit.
His face was full of fury and vengeance.
Brenda came up to my other side.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I wanted to track down Zack. We’re taking you to the hospital, Lauren,” she said. I nodded and about collapsed in Zack’s arms. He was afraid to touch me, but he assessed my wounds, saw my wrist, asked me to open my mouth, and then gently wiped tears from under my eyes.
