by April Lust
No way that car charged at her accidentally. I already called back to the garage and asked Tony to go out to the street and check the street marks from the Charger, and, of course, I was right. That car took off, gunning for her from a standstill. That squealing I heard wasn’t just her turning too fast; it was that fucking asshole going after her.
Lauren still saw the world through a rosy hue. I didn’t want to pull her out of that fog, but she needed to understand she might be in danger. If the guy from school was really pissed about not getting something he figured he should have had, and he was some rich asshole who’d never been told no before, there was no doubt he could have been the one behind the wheel.
I walked out of Lauren’s room to cool my head and figure out the next best move. She blamed herself for what happened all those years ago, or, at least, she believed I blamed her. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. True, she didn’t listen to me, but fuck, I barely listened to me back then. It was my decision to beat that asshole to a bloody mess, not hers. If I had used my head that morning, I would have just grabbed her, thrown her on the back of my bike, and peeled out. Beating him senseless didn’t need to happen, but it did.
Lauren thought she ruined my life, but she didn’t get it, didn’t see that going to juvie didn’t ruin anything. I finished school with decent grades, and if I had made the right choices when I was released, I would have gotten ahold of my own garage years ago. My choices put me in bad places. I ran with the wrong people. I looked for the quick fix to all my troubles. It was because of that I landed back in jail for a year. Whether I went to juvie that day or went to prison after high school, it wouldn’t have mattered. That was me. A fuck up.
Owning the garage helped. Kept me on the straight and narrow. Finally brushing off most of the old crew, I managed to keep my nose clean and work my ass off until I scraped up the money to buy the garage. But the guys I worked with now, they weren’t gentle. A few of them still ran with the club I walked out on after my last trip to the joint. They weren’t sweet and caring. And that was what she deserved. Someone to bring her flowers and chocolates. Not someone who wanted to tie her down and fuck her senseless. Hell, if she saw the way Teddy worked his magic with his girls, she’d probably pass out from the shock.
I needed to get her home and settled. Then we’d figure out who was behind the accident. Once I was satisfied she was safe, I’d leave her the fuck alone.
When I walked back into her room I found her struggling to get her t-shirt on. She had poked her head through, and one arm had made it, but the arm with the busted-up shoulder wasn’t making the cut.
“Fuck, Lauren. Hold on.” I tried to ignore the generous curve of her breast that peeked out from the shirt. She tried to argue with me, but one good glare and she shut her mouth. I’d never had to be firm with her before. But she grew up in the last seven years. The sweetness apparently held some bite to it now. If she thought she was going to sink that attitude into me, she had another thing coming. Yet another reason she needed to steer clear of me.
I took her shirt off, which earned me a shocked gasp and the sexiest damn blush I’d ever seen on a woman. Damn, she really had filled out. Not that she ever let me see her tits when were kids, but I’d manhandled her enough to know what she had, and she didn’t have those. Leroy had been right. Nice tits.
“I’m not looking, sweetheart, don’t worry,” I lied. She kept her face turned away while I worked the sleeve up her hurt arm, more from not wanting to see me see her than to hide the pain she was in. I’d hurt my shoulder enough over the years from a brawl or two to know it burned like hell to be moved the way I was working it. As gentle as I was being, there was no soft way to get that shirt over her shoulder. Once it was in place, I got her head back through and let her work her other arm in the sleeve. “There. Did Nurse Ratchet come back with your meds?”
“Yeah, they’re there.” She pointed to a bag on the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Asya can come get me; she should be home soon.”
“Who’s that?” I swiped the bag from the bag and checked out the meds. Narco. Shit, she’d be flat on her ass with that stuff. A half dose of Nyquil knocked her out cold when we were younger.
“My roommate. Can you hand me my purse?” She stood from the bed and waved at the bag on the floor.
“You mean the backpack? No. I’ll carry it. Where’s that sling the doctor told us about.” I found it on the bed and moved to help her with it. Again, she tried to push me away, but I didn’t take no from her. Never would.
By the time I had the sling in place, the hospital valet arrived with the wheelchair. I picked up the phone in the room to call the carport and have my car brought around, again ignoring her telling me not to bother. I shooed the candy striper away and held the arm rests of the chair, lowering myself until we nearly nose to nose. “I’m taking you home. I don’t want to hear one more word from you about it. Got it?”
Her eyes narrowed. Some smart-ass response lingered on her lips, but, at the last second, she decided against it. “Fine.”
I swung around and grabbed the handles behind her, nodding to the surprised kid. “I’ll follow you.” He scurried around her and started walking down the hall, only giving me side glances over his shoulder as we made our way through the halls of the ER and headed out to where my car sat waiting for us.
“Tell me about this guy at school. What’s he like?” I broke the silence in the truck. She kept herself pressed up to her side of the truck, like I was gonna reach over and pinch her. I would have if she didn’t start talking, but she really had no way of knowing that.
“He’s just a guy. We were both up for the internship, and I landed it. He’s mad. Said I got it on account of me being a girl.”
“What sort of guys does he hang out with?”
“I don’t know. Normal guys.” She yanked her bag with her good arm closer to her and dug around until she found her phone. “He’s just a spoiled kid who didn’t get what he wanted. He had nothing to do with this. There’s my apartment.”
I pulled into the open spot and told her stay the hell in her seat when she tried to open her door. I decided to ignore the eye roll and the huffing she responded with.
“Where’s your key?” I held out my hand.
“I can—”
“Look, I know it’s been a long time since you’ve known me, so let me get this one thing real clear with you: when I tell you do something, you do it. You don’t argue, you don’t pout, and you sure as fuck don’t tell me no. Now. Where is your key?” I hadn’t planned on laying it out quite like that, but her reluctance was starting to wear on me.
She stared at me, her pink lips parted, her blue eyes searching me to see if I meant what I said. She must have figured out I wasn’t playing because she pointed to the front pocket of her bag. I unzipped the small compartment and retrieved the silver key.
“I’m on the second floor. Asya should be home soon; you don’t need to stay.” She walked past me and headed up the stairs to the building. I watched the sway of her ass and shook my head. Fucking Leroy. No wonder he never saw the color of her hair. The curve of her hips and ass would probably distract the goddamn pope.
“I’ll stay as long as I need to. I have a few more questions.”
“Why should I answer yours when you won’t answer mine?” she threw at me once I had her door open.
The scent of pine hit me when we walked into her apartment. Looking around I could see why. The whole place was spotless. Not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. She’d always been neat but I didn’t remember her room ever looking so damn clinical.
An overstuffed couch took up most of the living room, with a matching ottoman facing one of those curved televisions mounted on the wall.
“Asya decorated the place. Her brother works for HH Gregg and gets disgusting discounts, especially on things that don’t quite make it into inventory,” she explained when she saw me gawking at the television. “She’s also a neat freak, so can you put my bag on tha
t chair there in the corner?”
“You telling me the TV is stolen?” I put her bag down. Maybe I hadn’t been the only one falling in with the wrong crews.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. She pays her rent, keeps the place clean, and brings home all sorts of leftovers from the restaurant she works at. So I don’t ask about the TV, or her brother.” She sat on the couch and leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “You can go now, Michael. I’m home. Asya will be here soon.”
I sat down on the ottoman, spreading my legs to put hers between mine and put my hands on her knees, drawing her attention to me. “Answer me about that guy. What’s his name?”
Her phone beeped from her back pocket and she dug it out, ignoring my question. She looked at the screen and rolled her eyes before putting it on the arm rest.
“What? Who keeps texting you?” I looked at the phone. I was tempted to grab it and check myself, but I needed her to start cooperating, and pissing her off more wouldn’t help me in that department.
“Caleb. My ex-boyfriend.” I was more surprised that she actually answered me than by what the answer was. “He heard about the accident, was just checking to see if I was okay.”
“How’d he know about the accident?” I went to reach for the phone, but she grabbed it before I got to it.
“His sister works at the hospital. She came in to check on me after you huffed out of the room. She told him.”
“I didn’t huff,” I corrected with a pointed finger. She smiled at me, a soft, teasing smile that I remembered from another life. “I thought you said you two broke up.”
“We did. I said my ex-boyfriend.”
“You still talk to him?”
“Nope. Not since I caught him in bed with my friend.” Okay, that didn’t set well with me either. Being cheated on hurt enough, but finding the bastard in bed with the chick, and the chick was her friend…my fists clenched all on their own.
“Why is he texting, then?” I didn’t mean to sound so hostile but that guy fucking needed a beating, and I didn’t like the idea of her even thinking about giving him the time of day.
“Why do you care about any of this anyway, Michael? You made it clear you don’t want me in your life anymore. Remember? You didn’t then, and you sure don’t now. So why get defensive about an old flame? Or keep pressing the issue about Pierre at school?”
I inched a bit closer to her, my knees touching the couch. “I need to be sure you’re safe.”
She laughed. “Safe? You’ve avoided me for seven years, but now all of a sudden you need to know I’m safe? Michael, you haven’t been my bodyguard since we were in high school. I’m twenty-four now. I don’t need you to play that role for me anymore.”
The words stung. She didn’t need me anymore. She had no idea that I’d checked on her after high school. That I made sure no one gave her a hard time when she started working at the local diner to help her mom pay the rent, or that I followed her home more times than not when she took a night class at the local junior college, making sure she got home safe. She didn’t know any of those things, and I wasn’t going to tell her either. She had one thing right: I had kept my distance for a reason. That reason hadn’t changed.
My hands found their way to the couch cushions beside her as I leaned closer to her. I could smell the cherry of her lip balm. Her eyes widened as I moved toward her. “My reasons for staying away are mine. You won’t bully me into talking about it.” Our noses touched, a light, feathery touch. Her lips were so close, just another inch and I’d have what I wanted. Her tongue darted out, the tip running along her bottom lip, moistening the pink flesh. She didn’t move, didn’t back away, instead her eyes went to my mouth, willing me to take what was mine, had been mine for years. Her breath warmed my chin.
“Lauren! Oh!”
I didn’t pull away, but I did turn my head to see who the hell interrupted what promised to be a damn fine moment. A short woman with black pixie cut hair grinned at us from the doorway. “I’m sorry. I just heard about the accident. Are you okay?”
Lauren shoved me out of the way and addressed the intruder. “Hi, Asya. Yes, I’m good. Michael here was nice enough to take me home, but he’s leaving now.”
“He doesn’t need to. I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. My night shift starts soon. Are you sure you’re okay?” She walked over to where we were, pointing at the sling over Lauren’s arm. “Your arm.”
“Just sore. I’m fine,” Lauren reassured her, ignoring my presence, or at least pretending to ignore me. “I’m just going to take some Ibuprofen and get ready to head to the shelter.”
“You can’t go in tonight.” I grasped her chin and turned her face me. “You need to rest.”
“I have a job, Michael. I just need to help a woman with a résumé, then I’ll come home. I won’t stay long.” Her words didn’t hold any sharpness to them. “I’ll have to take the bus. My car is still—”
“Tony pulled it back into the garage once the cops were done with all their measurements and pictures. We’ll have it repaired as quickly as possible. You can’t take the bus. I’ll take you.”
“No. You won’t. Please just go.”
“I can take her,” Asya interjected softly, looking at me with less concern than I would think a woman in her situation would. “I go that way to work anyway.”
“See?” Lauren pulled out of my grip. “I’ll take a cab home, okay?”
I looked from one girl to the other.
“I’m gonna hit the shower.” She smiled at me and backed out of the room.
“Fine.” I jerked the phone out of her hand and tapped my contact info in. “You call me if you can’t get a cab right away. Got it?”
“Sure.” She nodded, but that lip of hers was being sucked into her mouth. The little liar still had the same tell as when we were kids.
I sighed. “Fine.” I shot myself a text from her phone, giving myself her number. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”
“You don’t need to. I’ll be fine. Just give me a call when the car’s ready, and let me know how much.”
I eyed her silently for a minute. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, and pushed myself off the couch. “You get the résumé done, and you get home. Understood?”
“Whatever.” She tried to look annoyed, but didn’t succeed very well. She may have been pissed, and she wanted to know things I wasn’t ready to tell her, but my Lauren was still my Lauren. Her emotions played across her face like a drive-in movie. Finding me had brought her relief. From what, I didn’t know yet, but I’d find out. “Now just go.” She shoved me with her good hand.
Without another word, I left her sitting on her couch. I wanted to help her to her room, help her change, get cleaned up, but I knew if I touched her, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Not kissing her at that moment had my dick hurting in my jeans. So close to touching her, tasting her, and it was yanked away from me.
When I stepped out of her building, I looked up and down the street. The sun had started to fade a bit, taking away some of the summer heat with it. The back of my neck tingled, as though I could feel someone’s eyes on me, watching me. I checked the cars lined up along the street, all empty.
On my way to the truck I kept my ears open, hearing nothing more than traffic from the main street. I couldn’t shake the feeling. Someone had eyes on me. On Lauren’s apartment. That car accident wasn’t an accident. Someone was out to get her, and I’d be damned if they succeeded.
Chapter Five
Lauren
“You shouldn’t go to school today. Just stay home and rest.” Asya poured herself a cup of coffee while I struggled to get my book back into my bag.
“I’ll be fine, Asya. I just need to do a few things. I’m almost done with this semester and then I can start my internship. If I miss too much work, I could lose it.”
She looked at me with hesitation. “Your shoulder looks like you were thrown against the wall by a gorilla. You barely slept la
st night; I know because I could hear you wandering around your room.”
She was right. I hadn’t slept well at all. Michael being thrust back into my life after seven years left me with so many more questions than answers. Where the hell had he been? Why did he feel so compelled to throw me out of his life if he didn’t blame me for what happened? How was I supposed to take his dominating concern for me?
The Michael I knew years ago was more than just my friend. He protected me, cared for me. When everyone at school laughed at my thrift store clothes, he took me shopping for new jeans. He spent what little money he had from his part time job at Jiffy Lube to put me in better clothes. When I promised to pay him back, he had grabbed my shoulders, squared us off, and told me in no uncertain terms that I was never to think about giving anything back to him. He liked taking care of me, and it was only my job to accept what he did and say thanks.
I should have seen the signs then, that he was a dominating jerk. Except he wasn’t. Back then he kept a soft side for me. The hard man I found standing in his garage yesterday, he still had that soft side; there were just a few more layers on top of it now.
