Broad Daylight

by A. M. Wilson

  It’s not as if I’ve changed much over the past two decades, but Niko had such big problems and heartache. He’s overcome those things in astonishing ways. Let’s just say I’m a man of routine and familiar things. What some people may find boring, I find comforting and predictable.

  Not to mention it’s safe.

  A guy like me can’t be too careful.

  I refuse to allow what happened to Niko and Aislin to ever come close to happening to me.

  That’s a goddamn promise I refuse to break.

  2

  Reece

  Lining up my shot, I set the tip of the pool stick perfectly center on the cue ball, pull back, then smoothly slam it forward. My eyes follow the white ball as it hits the eight ball into the side pocket, the intended target.

  Groans erupt around me, along with the sounds of pool sticks dropping to the pool table.

  “Why in the hell do we even play with this fucking guy? He beats our ass every time,” Parker, one of the electricians on my crew, grumbles as he pulls out his wallet.

  “Blame Emmett.” Jonas slaps the back of Emmett’s head. “I warned him to keep his trap shut.”

  Emmett, the newest guy on our team, rubs the back of his head. “What the hell, man? It’s your fault for not telling me he was a hustler.”

  “He’s not a hustler, you idiot. He’s just that damn good at pool. We all know it, and had you not started taunting him and given us a minute, we would have told you before you opened your big mouth.”

  Parker shoots Emmett a dirty look as he leaves to go grab us a round of drinks. “Emmett should be the one buying,” he throws over his shoulder.

  We don’t bet for money, but we may as well have because the loser has to buy the next round. Most of the guys here know better than to play against me. Emmett’s only worked for me for a few weeks, so he hasn’t caught on that I’m damn good at pool. I’m pretty sure he’s getting the idea now.

  “Any takers?” I ask. Already knowing the answer, I set the pool stick down in the holder before anyone replies.

  “Fuck you,” Emmett grumbles. “I’ve already spent half my paycheck buying drinks for your asses.”

  Chuckling, I snag one of the stools against the wall with my foot and pull it closer to the high-top table. I take a seat, and my sore back thanks me for it. This week has been particularly grueling. Thank fuck it’s the weekend. I grab my beer and chug back what’s left of it.

  “You hear back from Frazier yet?” Jonas asks, taking the seat across from me.

  We both turn so our backs are to the wall, and we can see the rest of the bar. I don’t know if it’s ingrained in me from Niko being a cop and naturally always on the lookout for trouble, but I hate having my back to a room full of people. I’d prefer to see what’s going on around me.

  “No,” I grunt. “And I didn’t really expect to. You know he’s shit at returning calls. I don’t expect to hear from him until Monday.”

  “You need to do something about him, Reece. He’s already put us behind on one project. We can’t afford for it to happen again.”

  “I know.” I let out a tired sigh, not wanting to think about the shit I have to deal with Monday. “I plan to tell him he needs to get his shit together, or we’ll go with someone else for lumber.”

  “Good. I’m tired of dealing with him.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I know a guy who knows a guy who says he’s pretty dependable. If Frazier doesn’t get his shit together, you want me to give him a call?”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket when I feel it vibrate against my thigh. Looking down at the screen, I answer absently, “Yeah.”

  The muscle in my jaw twitches when I see the text message and the person who sent it.

  Bella: I’m free later if you want to get together.

  I spent one night with the woman six months ago, and I haven’t been able to shake her off since. It was a mistake. I knew it even before I had her clothes off and her underneath me. But I was having a particularly bad day, and I didn’t want to spend it alone.

  It’s not often I pick up women. I’m selective with who I choose. There has to be more than just looks to attract me. I’m not looking for love, that’s for damn sure—especially not after what my brother went through for years, although it worked out in the end—but I’m also not some asshole who’ll pick up any woman who’ll spread her legs.

  My fingers tighten around the phone as I look down at the screen and contemplate my reply. The night I took Bella home, one of my crew members fell from the roof of the house we were building. Steve lived, but his neck was broken, and he fractured one of his vertebrae. The doctors didn’t believe he’d walk again, and so far, he hasn’t. Steve had a newborn at home, and he was left with no way to support his family. There was nothing I, or any of the other guys, could have done, and Steve himself didn’t do anything wrong to cause the fall, but the guilt still eats at me. Because of it, even though I don’t have to, I’ve paid all of his medical bills that weren’t covered by his insurance.

  I felt like shit that night, so some of the guys and I ended up at one of the bars I rarely go to, and I got drunk off my ass. Bella was the girlfriend of one of the guy’s wives. She was relentless in her pursuit to get me in bed, and I was just drunk enough to give in. It was a mistake I’ve regretted making. One I’m still paying for because the bitch just won’t get a clue.

  I hit the reply button, determined to nip this in the bud once and for all. I’m not generally an asshole, especially toward women, but enough is fucking enough.

  Me: I’ve tried beating around the bush, hoping you’d get a clue, but apparently, I mistook your intelligence. Under no circumstances do I want to see you again. Ever. Erase my number from your phone and forget you ever met me.

  Pressing send, I toss my phone on the table. Unless she has a few screws loose, which I’m wondering if that’s the case from the many times I’ve blown her off, that should take care of any misconception on exactly how I feel. I should feel bad for being a bastard, but I just can’t find it in me to give a fuck.

  Parker comes back and drops beer bottles in front of Jonas and me. I grab mine and take a long pull.

  “What in the hell happened to your face?” Jonas asks, drawing my attention.

  I look at Parker and notice his cheek is red with two white lines.

  “Stupid bitch at the bar slapped me.”

  Jonas laughs. “What did you say to her?”

  Parker’s in his late twenties and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I suppose he’s a good-looking guy, and most of the time, the ladies fall for his lame pickup lines, but every so often, he comes across the wrong woman. There’s no doubt from the palm print on his face that he met one tonight.

  “All I did was tell the woman her ass was so tight I could bounce a quarter off it.”

  I roll my eyes. Typical Parker.

  “Oh?” Jonas's lips twitch. “Is that all you said?”

  “Yes,” Parker answers through gritted teeth.

  Jonas laughs again. “No fucking wonder she slapped you. You’re lucky you still have front teeth.”

  “Whatever,” Parker mutters, turning his back to the table and leaning against it. “You didn’t see her. She’s the best-looking woman in the joint. You’d have a hard time coming up with a decent pickup line too if you saw her.”

  “Where is she?”

  He looks toward the bar, and we turn to see who he’s looking at. A small-framed blonde is sitting on one of the stools with her back toward us.

  Ignoring the two, I get up from the stool, ready to call it a night. I’m tired as fuck, and my bed is calling my name.

  “I’m heading out,” I tell the guys.

  I grab my phone from the table and pull my keys from my pocket. When I get no response from either of them, I glance over. Both have their eyes trained across the room, in the opposite direction of the woman who slapped Parker. Wondering what captured their attention, I turn and l
ook. It takes a moment to figure out what they're looking at. There’s a table with two women and a man sitting not far from us. One of the women, a pretty brunette, is facing us. The man sits to her left. The pair is laughing at something one of them said.

  It’s the other woman, though, who intrigues me. She’s sitting on the opposite side of the man, so I can only see the side of her face. Her hair, which is jet black and long, is braided into a tight braid and hangs down her back. Her lips are tipped up into a small smile as she watches the couple with her.

  My eyes linger on her face, tracing the features I can see. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on how I know her. Regardless of what it is, my body reacts; my dick taking notice and making itself known.

  I look back at Parker and Jonas, and notice their eyes are trained on the same woman and not the brunette. I want to slam their faces against the high top until their eyes are swollen shut so they can’t look at her.

  I shake my head at the bizarre thought. I have never gotten possessive over a woman before, and I’m damn sure not about to start now.

  I slap Jonas’s chest with the back of my hand to get his attention. “I’m leaving.”

  His eyes briefly flicker to me before moving back to the woman. “Yeah, sure, man. I’ll see you Monday.”

  As I leave the two behind. I make the mistake of looking back at the table with the woman and come to a complete standstill when I finally get a good look at her face.

  Every muscle in my body constricts, the one around my heart so tight it feels like something’s squeezing the life right out of it. My phone creaks in my hand, and the screen cracks against my fingers as I look at the woman who unknowingly obliterated my heart nearly twenty years ago at the same time I purposely smashed hers to pieces.

  Danica Lawrence hasn't changed in all these years. She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her hair is the same shiny, midnight black, her skin a smooth alabaster, and I have no doubt, if I were close enough, I'd see the small scattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose that I used to love so much. From the first moment I saw her in ninth grade, she took my breath away, and she still does to this day.

  As if sensing someone watching her, her head slowly turns from her friends, and her eyes travel across the room, landing on me. Surprise flickers in the green orbs for a fraction of a second before they narrow, and a look of loathing replaces it.

  I don’t move. I just stand there and watch her, unable to look away even if I wanted to. And at this second, I really don’t fucking want to. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her. My eyes drink her in as memories from our past slam into my brain.

  The day I first saw her and my relentless pursuit of her before any of the other guys took notice.

  The fire in her eyes when she cursed me out because I was a cocky motherfucker.

  The day she finally gave in.

  The feel of her lips the first time we kissed.

  The numerous times we made out in my car and the first time we made love in the back seat.

  The utter devastation on her face when she caught me kissing another girl.

  Seeing the excruciating pain in her eyes was one of the last looks I ever saw on her face. She appeared like I just tore her world apart and scattered the pieces in the wind.

  Little did she know, my own heart was broken and bleeding at her feet. She unknowingly stomped on it when she left. It was what I wanted. What needed to happen.

  Since then, I’ve learned to live without her, but I’ve never been whole. A piece of me has always been missing.

  That missing piece is now getting to her feet and walking toward me. I should turn around and leave. Nothing has changed since that day I sat in this very bar with some random chick on my lap, her tongue down my throat, knowing Dani was going to see.

  The closer Dani gets, the harder my heart thumps. The hard expression on her face tears at my insides. Once upon a time, she used to look at me with love and devotion. That look is long gone, and in its place is hatred.

  “Hey, Dani,” I say, my voice gruff.

  As she stands in front of me, her demeanor blank, it takes all of my willpower not to reach out for her. Back in the day, I never had to stop myself from touching Dani. She welcomed my affectionate touches, and I did so often. Twenty years may have passed, but that need has only grown.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  I look around the bar, noticing not only the guys’ eyes on Dani and me but Dani’s friends also looking at us. I swing my eyes back to her.

  “I come here often.” I lift a brow. “I could ask you the same. Why are you back in Westbridge?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, a move I know from experience means she’s on the defensive.

  “Transfer.” Her head cocks to the side. “I’m surprised to see you here in Rook’s. I figured you would have moved on to a big boy bar.”

  Rook’s is a pool house geared more toward teens eighteen and up. They do sell alcohol to anyone of age, but only beer, so it doesn’t get too rowdy. Friday and Saturday the place is filled with hot-headed punks and slutty girls, but during the week, it’s quieter. It’s for that reason I like coming here during the week. It beats going to some bar with a bunch of drunks making a fool of themselves trying to get laid. I would never admit it out loud, but I also come here because it’s a connection to Dani.

  “I prefer the quietness of Rook’s.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, a finger rubbing against one of the jagged edges of the broken screen on my phone. “You said you were transferred. What do you do?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Do you really care?” Her arms drop to her sides, and she blows out a frustrated breath. “You know what? We already know the answer to that.” She looks at her friends over her shoulder before turning back, her eyes pointed down. She shakes her head. “It was stupid to come over here,” she mumbles to herself. She lifts her head and her angry eyes meet mine. “I would say it’s been nice seeing you, Reece, but I was never the liar between the two of us.”

  As soon as the final word leaves her lips, she spins on her heel to go back to her friends. She only makes it one step before I reach out and grab her arm. I’ve got no business stopping her, especially because nothing I say will ever change her mind about me. But I can’t let her walk away yet.

  “Dani, wait.”

  She freezes, and the muscle in her arm tenses beneath my fingers. Slowly, she turns her head, her eyes going to my hand. Her head lifts, and the look in her gaze has my jaw clenching.

  “Let me go.” She pulls on her arm, but I don’t release her.

  I ignore the pure animosity in her tone and take a step closer. The flowery fragrance of her perfume, the same one she used back in the day, surrounds me and fucks with my senses.

  “Dani, listen—”

  “No,” she growls, yanking her arm free.

  My grip wasn’t tight, only strong enough to keep a hold of her. But with the way she yanked free, I have no doubt a mark will be left behind. That possibility pisses me off.

  “Goddammit, Dani. Would you just fucking stop and listen to me?” I growl, stepping closer, bending my knees to get in her face.

  For a brief second, something other than loathing flashes in her eyes. Pain so stark it nearly steals my breath darkens her gaze. The look disappears before it fully forms.

  Dani doesn’t say anything. Her eyes drop away from me, and before I know what’s happening, she picks up a mug of beer a customer left on a nearby table and throws what’s left in my face.

  She slams the mug back down and takes her own step closer, her voice low when she says, “I didn’t stick around to hear your fucked-up excuses all those years ago. And I don’t want to hear anything you have to say now.”

  My blood boils, quickly heating the beer running down my face. I forgot just how much of a bitch Dani could be when you get on her bad side. Not that I blame her. She has every right to hate me.

&n
bsp; She turns, and this time, I don’t stop her. I simply watch her go back to the table her friends are sitting at, looking at her in astonishment.

  The bartender walks up to me and silently hands me a towel. I snatch it from him and wipe my face, then toss it on the table. I glare at the side of Dani’s head for a moment before I turn and stalk out the door. Anger has my hands clenching and unclenching as I walk to my truck.

  I don’t know why I’m so angry because honestly, I expected worse from Dani. What I did to her was unforgivable. That was the whole reason I did what I did twenty years ago. I needed her to hate me. I needed her to leave Westbridge and never come back.

  Maybe her return is what has my temper rising. She’s always been a temptation I could never refuse. Having her back home will resurrect old feelings.

  I dig my keys from my pocket. That’s utter bullshit. My feelings for Dani never left. They’re still just as strong as they always were.

  Pressing the unlock button on the key fob, I climb inside my truck and take steady breaths before navigating the streets back home. Parking in the driveway, I get out and lock my truck. I’m halfway up the steps when an eerie feeling slides down my spine.

  Stopping on the top step, I turn and look around. The sun has long since gone down, leaving only the few streetlights illuminating the neighborhood with measly light. My ears perk up as I look into the shadows, listening and watching for any movement.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve felt eyes on me. It’s not even the second. For the past several weeks, I’ve sensed something. Something lurking in the dark, waiting for I don’t know what.

  Not seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary, I turn back to my house, unlocking the door and throwing the deadbolt when I get inside. I set my alarm next before walking back to the door and looking past the curtain covering the window beside it.

  Nothing moves. After a moment, I leave the window, go to my bedroom, and head straight to the safe I have in the closet. Turning the dials until it pops open, I pull out the gun I have tucked inside. I’ve never had to fire the weapon, but I have it just in case. It stems from growing up in a gang-ridden neighborhood where shots in the night were common.