Beneath These Scars

by Meghan March

  After Jay had left me broken in our house, he’d gone out that night and picked up Valentina at a bar. I could almost picture him putting on the Southern-boy charm I knew he still possessed. She’d been on the rebound, looking for a one-night stand, and he’d pocketed his wedding band. According to her, when she’d gotten into his car, he’d gone into a rage, screaming at her and calling her my name. And then he’d driven like crazy so she thought they’d crash. When he’d finally pulled off on a long, deserted road, he’d dragged her into the backseat, raped her, then tossed her and her purse out of the car. She’d called for help and ended up in a hospital room just down the hall from me.

  I hated that my actions had affected Valentina, but she’d forgiven me. That didn’t mean I’d forgiven myself, though.

  “Yve, are you listening to me?”

  I snapped out of my trip down the memory lane from hell, and met Ginny’s eyes. “What?”

  Fear came off Ginny in waves. “You’ve got to leave town, dear. I’m afraid he’s going to come after you. My offer is still good. All you need to do is pick a city. You can leave tonight. I’ll arrange to have your belongings packed and shipped. He’ll never find you.”

  I laid a hand on her shoulder. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing, and it scares the living hell out of me. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust my son.”

  I squared my shoulders and tried not to upset her with my words. “I’m not leaving. This is my home. This is my city just as much as it’s his. I didn’t let him run me out of it before, and I won’t let him now.” Ice coated the steel reinforcing my spine as I added, “Whatever he’s gonna do, he’s gonna do. I won’t change my life just because I can’t predict what that might be.” Even as I said the words, the possibilities and risks flipped through my brain, along with the potential for this to be a downright stupid decision.

  “Yve,” she said. “Please. Do it for me.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to do this for me. This is my life. I’m done letting him rule it.”

  She shook her head. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Then so be it.”

  Ginny nodded, and her arthritic hand shook as it lifted to my face. “You’re a good girl, Yve. I don’t want anything else bad to happen to you. I just wish you’d let me protect you.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming to let me know, but I’m going to have to protect myself.”

  She pulled me in for a hug. “Be safe, my dear.”

  “And if you learn anything at all, please tell me.”

  She stepped back and released me. “You have my word. Good-bye, Yve.”

  I watched as she made her way back to her BMW. Once she’d driven off, I turned back to my apartment and stared up at it with dread. My keys still hung in the lock, and I really, really didn’t want to go in there and see whatever might have been moved or missing.

  Sometimes being self-sufficient just plain sucked. In that moment, I wished I had someone I could lean on. What would that even be like?

  If I’d had a father, would this be a time that he’d come and check under the metaphorical bed for monsters? If I’d ever figured out how to date and have a normal relationship, maybe I would’ve had someone I could call to go in first and check things out.

  But no. I just had me. And Yve counted on Yve.

  Sure, I had friends. I could call Elle and she’d send Lord. Or I could call my former employee and good friend, Charlie, and she’d send her fiancé, Simon. Even Con would come if I called him. But they all had their own lives, their own issues. They didn’t need little old me pulling a Chicken Little when I didn’t even know if Jay had been in my place. Was it likely? Sure as shit, yes. Who else would have done it?

  My stomach cramped as I stared up at my apartment door.

  I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it.

  I sat down on the bench and dropped my head into my hands. Maybe a little cry would do me good. No one would ever have to know.

  CLANDESTINE MEETINGS WITH POLITICIANS WERE even worse than regular meetings with politicians. Because clandestine meetings were all cloak and dagger and required a secret password at the door of some club that men like me—men who weren’t born with the keys to this city—didn’t otherwise know existed.

  The doorman shut the heavy leather padded door behind me and I stepped inside the dimly lit club. A blonde on ice-pick stilettos nodded to me.

  “Welcome, Mr. Titan. Right this way, sir.”

  Apparently while I hadn’t known about this club, they’d known about me. I followed her, my gaze dropping to her ass out of habit, but not with interest. Absently I noted the short black skirt and seam up the back of her stockings, but nothing in me was moved by her top-notch body. No, I seemed to have developed a fixation on a sassy, curvy woman who would rather run from me than spend a moment in my company. All claws and teeth—and sexy as hell. It was undeniable proof that I was a masochist.

  The blonde slowed in front of a closed door but didn’t reach for the handle. “They’re inside, sir.”

  Cloak and dagger, indeed.

  I pulled it open and found four Louisiana state senators seated inside, puffing on cigars and looking like the Southern politicians they were.

  “Gentlemen,” I said in greeting.

  “Titan, come in. Close the door.”

  I did as he asked and crossed the room to the low gathering of chairs around a poker table. There were cards and chips on the table, but no hand in play.

  “I didn’t realize we were planning to play.”

  “We’re not,” Hendricks said, one of the three Democrats in the room. “We just needed a reason to gather.”

  “Afraid of the Gestapo finding you out?”

  “Not the Gestapo. Haines.”

  The name of the senator who had demanded the open-ended favor surprised me. “Haines?”

  Shuman, the sole Republican among them, replied, “He put out the word that if you came around asking for favors, we might not find it in our best interest to entertain them.”

  That son of a bitch. “Is that so?”

  “Damn right. For some reason he’s gotten very territorial over you.”

  What the hell? “Why is that?”

  They all looked at me like I was an idiot for even asking the question. “Because you’re a good man to have a marker from. We’re guessing he doesn’t want anyone else to have the chance to get something from you.”

  And this was why I despised politics.

  “So, why are you here?” I asked. “If you’re not willing to go against Haines, then why even agree to meet with me?”

  Winchell spoke up again. “Because we want to know what it is that would get a man like you to start asking for favors.”

  “Curiosity. That’s why you’re here?”

  They all smiled.

  “And yet you have no intention of helping me, regardless of what it is, because Haines put out the word that I wasn’t to be helped?”

  Nods went all around the table.

  “Why the hell do you think I’d tell you a goddamn thing?”

  Truman spoke up. “Because whatever it is, if there’s a chance we can help you behind the scenes in exchange for, shall we say, generous campaign contributions, we might be willing to pull some strings.”

  Greed and curiosity. It would have been interesting if it wasn’t so infuriating.

  My first instinct was to tell them to fuck off. But the voice in the back of my head—telling me I’d never succeed and I was a waste of a son—that voice increased in volume.

  The person I most wanted to tell to fuck off was my father, and it was his voice. A voice I’d only heard in my head for years.

  I studied the four politicians, wondering if they’d be able to give me any realistic help at all. If they weren’t willing to push the bill to the floor for a vote and make sure the vote went in my favor, what good were they?

  But what if there was a chance?

 
“Okay, gentlemen,” I started, using the term loosely. “This is what I need.”

  DEEP BREATH IN; DEEP BREATH out.

  Scan right. Scan left.

  Repeat.

  I made the circuit of all of the rooms in my apartment for the ninth time, but saw nothing out of place. Nothing moved. Nothing missing.

  Maybe the new locks and alarm system had done the trick. It seemed too easy, though, didn’t it?

  “Okay,” I said to the empty room. “I guess I’ll just go to bed then.”

  I headed into the bathroom to wash my face. My makeup had to be almost all gone, courtesy of the dunking I’d taken in Titan’s pool. Asshole.

  I stopped in front of the mirror and froze. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” I murmured. I looked like the dried version of a drowned rat. Lovely. It was a miracle Ginny hadn’t demanded an explanation for my appearance, which was more proof of how distressed she’d been. A shower was definitely in order, or even better, a bath.

  I eyed the small tub-shower combination in my bathroom and wished for the giant claw-foot tub in the guest room of Titan’s house.

  Stop thinking about him, I ordered myself.

  After closing the drain, I turned on the water as hot as it would go and watched for a few moments as the tub filled inch by inch. Deciding it had filled enough at three inches, I stripped and climbed in. I let the heat and steam surround me as the water continued to rise.

  Leaning my head back, I tried to think peaceful thoughts, and not about the nightmares that Ginny’s warnings had brought back to me. But every time I tried to push my mind to something pleasant, it landed on the black-haired, green-eyed man I wanted to forget.

  But did I truly want to forget that night in the kitchen and how he’d pushed me, challenged me, and finally taken me? Jesus.

  I’d never come so hard in my entire life. And I might never come so hard again.

  Unless you have another fling with Titan, the voice in my head offered.

  No. That wasn’t happening again. Because he wanted an arrangement.

  But what if I told him to shove his arrangement where the sun didn’t shine and made a counteroffer of my own? I could be the one to use him.

  I pictured Titan’s mouth curling up into a smirk as I told him that I wanted to compensate him for the use of his body. Hell, screw compensation. The man was richer than Midas, so what if I just told him that I wanted to use his body freely, whenever the whim struck me. I wanted to be able to say when and where, and for him to make it happen.

  Would he be shocked?

  Oh God, but the idea of Titan speechless would be worth the potential humiliation if he laughed in my face. The more I thought about the plan, the more I liked it. It was ballsy, cocky, and slightly crazy—which made it seem perfect for when dealing with Titan.

  “Why the hell not?” I asked the empty bathroom. “Why not turn the tables a little?”

  Determination filling me, I stood, shaking off the water as I grabbed a towel. But one glance in the direction of the steam-clouded mirror made me freeze. A scream ripped loose from my lungs.

  I’m watching you.

  The words were written in big block letters across the glass, and would have been completely invisible if I hadn’t let the bathroom fill with steam.

  Stark terror ripped through me.

  He’d been here. Ginny was right. Jay was still fixated on me, and I wasn’t safe.

  Fight or flight kicked in harder than ever before. Run! all my instincts screamed. And yet here I stood in the middle of the bathroom, clutching a towel to my dripping body as I forced my brain to start working again.

  He wasn’t here, wasn’t in my apartment. The locks had been changed, and the alarm was set. But he’d been here before; I’d felt it in my gut, and I’d been right.

  With shaking hands, I wrapped the towel around me. I will not let him win. The choice stood before me—fight or flight—but I had nowhere to run. I could count on myself, and that was it.

  So I guess fight it was.

  I dried myself slowly and methodically, trying to pretend my hands weren’t shaking as I told myself the feeling that had settled over me wasn’t desperation, but calmness. A killing calm, if need be. I could do this. I could totally do this.

  I spent the night huddled in the corner of my sitting room, one hand on the remote flipping through late-night infomercials, and the other hand within easy reach of my revolver.

  It was a long, sleepless night.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I WAS in no mood to be messed with, mostly because an Yve who hadn’t slept was not an Yve who should be facing the world without a flashing neon warning sign. Any other day, I would have walked to work, but I didn’t want to be caught out in the open for that long. I wasn’t stupid; I wasn’t going to make myself any bigger of a target than I needed to be. But I swore I could feel eyes on me as I parked in the alley behind the store and let myself in.

  Good Lord, what I wouldn’t pay to have Levi back already. His presence in the shop, while not any deterrent to danger, would at least give me some comfort, and I’d take what I could get right now.

  My heart about leaped out of my chest when someone banged on the front door ten minutes before opening. If it was that skinny chick snooping around, thinking she was going to own this place, she’d have picked the wrong damn day to mess with this girl.

  I strode to the front of the store. It was a skinny chick, but it wasn’t Jennifer. At least, not that Jennifer.

  “Hi,” a perky brunette said, waving as I cracked open the door. “I’m Jennifer. Your temp.”

  I eyed her. “Let’s see some ID.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “ID?”

  “Didn’t the temp agency tell you that you’d need to provide it?” It was standard procedure, but usually I let people in the door first. Except today, I wasn’t feeling all that trusting.

  “Oh yeah, they did. Hold on.” She reached into the giant bag she carried on her shoulder as a purse. It was cute, but enormous. She could carry a severed head in that thing.

  Way to be completely morbid and fucked up, Yve. I cringed at the thought. Seriously, I needed to lighten up.

  She pulled out her wallet to retrieve her license and handed it to me through the slice of space I’d left when I opened the door.

  Jennifer Patrice Ralston. Twenty-one years old as of last month. Good enough.

  I opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

  She stepped inside and I flipped the lock behind her. “I’ve always loved this store. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’ve been here before. I bought this dress.”

  She executed a quick pirouette and twirl, and instead of being annoyed, I instantly decided I liked the girl. She’d bought one of my favorite dresses—red and black with a cute boat-neck collar and a wide pleated skirt—and she wore it well, especially paired with super-cute rhinestone-studded silver flats. She’d fit in just fine.

  “I remember the dress, but I have to apologize, I don’t remember you.”

  “No worries. The dress is certainly more memorable than I am.”

  I studied her pierced nose and shoulders tattooed with epaulets. “I think that’s probably an unfair statement.”

  She was quick with her smile and even quicker with her giggle. The girl would be absolutely no protection, but her company was welcome.

  “How about I show you around and get you acquainted with the inventory?”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  Two hours later I had a girl crush on my new temporary employee. In fact, if she sold one more item that cost over two hundred dollars, I might just try to steal her away from the temp company completely. They’d apologized up and down for screwing up and not sending her the day they were supposed to. I wondered if that meant I could get them to void the no-poaching clause in the agreement I’d signed.

  Because that’s how a businesswoman thinks, I told myself. Which reminded me, I needed to decide my next course of actio
n before I really did lose this place to the other skinny bitch Jennifer.

  Part of my brain screamed that I should just go to Harriet and lay it all out, but the other part of me knew that I couldn’t walk in empty-handed. Either way, I needed to set a deadline for myself. If I didn’t have a plan by this time next week, I’d go to her. I might be proud, but I wasn’t a fool.

  The back buzzer sounded, and I checked my watch. It was time for our daily UPS delivery, which was basically like Christmas that came every day.

  I headed for the door and pulled it open. “Hey, Kevin, how’s things?” I asked the big black man who’d been asking me out since almost my very first day at the shop.

  “Things would be better if you’d just go out with me, Ms. Yve.”

  He was a good man, the kind of man I should date. But that was the problem—I didn’t know what to do with a good man. He wasn’t the kind of guy I could invite home for one night; he was looking for a woman to warm his bed every night, the kind of man who’d take me out somewhere nice to try to impress me. The kind of man who’d wait until the third date before he tried anything serious, and then on date thirty-three, he’d probably get down on one knee and propose.

  Lord knew I’d never get married again. No way in hell. There was no upside to marriage that I could see. And a good man like Kevin? I’d just break his heart.

  So I said no. Again. “You know that’d just be asking for trouble.”

  “And yet I keep asking, beautiful.”

  I smiled at the compliment. “You’re always smooth, I’ll give you that.”

  “Because one day you’re going to give in to me.”

  “I keep telling you not to get your hopes up.”

  When I reached out to accept the package he was holding just out of reach, he said, “What’s a man got, if he doesn’t have hope, Yve?” His tone was serious as his warm brown eyes bored into mine.

  With a line like that, if my life weren’t such a complete disaster, maybe I would consider taking him up on one date. Maybe.

  The front door chime sounded, and I heard JP, as she’d told me she preferred to be called, chatting with whoever had entered.