No Simple Sacrifice

by Angel Payne

  Our little girlfriend suddenly turned into a goddess.

  An avenging one.

  The sleeveless cut of her gown exposed every muscle in her back as her presence seemed to grow by another inch. She shoved out a foot, bracing her strappy heels as if they were battle boots.

  “Damn.” Drake’s astonishment, echoing my own, nearly split the word into two syllables.

  “Short defines only my stature, Janelle. But you wouldn’t know that, because you don’t know me—or, for that matter, anything about those men. And I’ll thank you to keep it that way.”

  “Damn.” I copied D’s inflection in a coarse mutter.

  Janelle was a bimbo about a lot of things. Toe-to-toe smack talk wasn’t one of them. “Oh, honey,” she cooed, letting her words slide out like cream-covered razorblades, “bless your sweet little heart. You’re more naïve than I thought. I know every single inch of both of those two—intimately, as a matter of fact—and because I’m in such a good mood, I’d even be happy to share a few tips…if that’s what’s come between the three of you.”

  The steel in Talia’s spine stiffened more. The striations in her arms grew more defined, leading my scrutiny down to her balled fists. “I don’t want—or need—a shred of advice from you.”

  “You sure? I mean, those boys do have needs, sweetie.” She fanned herself. “Insatiable ones at times. Oh, my lord.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Just offering a bit of free advice, dear. You know…friend to friend.”

  “You are not my friend.” Tolly leaned into the one step she took. “And stay away from my boyfriends.”

  Janelle acquiesced by a backward stride—emphasis on stride. The woman was slick as gutter water when it came to these battlegrounds. “Oh, my God.” She tinkled out a little laugh. “You poor thing. Boyfriends? Seriously? Drake Newland and Fletcher Ford are the reason they invented the word manwhore, darling. How do you think they got so good at what they do?” She pressed her lips in, as if fighting back another laugh. “I think I actually feel sorry for you now.”

  “Well…don’t.” It stammered out of Talia. She twisted a foot as if the concrete under it had suddenly turned to quicksand. I squirmed, as though feeling her discomfort from twenty feet away. Clearly, the comment wasn’t what she’d expected—in a verbal sparring game that already wasn’t her wheelhouse. “I-I don’t want your pity. I don’t want anything from you, and neither do they.” Her foot slammed down again. “Get it through your head, Janelle—now and for good. I’m the one they’re with.”

  “Which is why I’m going home with one of them?” She curled her arms in like a blonde Morticia Addams. “The sexier one, if you ask me…but maybe the fashion plate look is more your jam, n’est-ce pas?”

  Well, now it was personal. But as I surged forward again, I was stunned to look down and see my best friend’s hand restraining me—while his stare stayed firmly glued on Talia. His dark eyes were suffused with love and pride—and his unmitigated belief in her ability to handle the blonde, preening skank.

  She didn’t let him down.

  “Ohhhh. You know French? Oooh la la. Très bien. That makes things so much easier. I’ll make this short and sweet, then. Ta gueule, Janelle. To save your brain cells from exploding on the translation, that means ‘shut your damn mouth.’ You can spend that limited mental wattage on this—Drake isn’t going home with you. He’s coming home with the people he belongs with. Fletcher and me.”

  I pumped a fist of victory.

  Drake beamed an ear-to-ear grin.

  Janelle paused for one second. Then tossed her head back on a cackling laugh. “Ohhh, honey. Goodness, you’re cute—but face it. You’re just not enough to keep those two happy. I mean…look at you. No, really. Look. I know the ‘plain little owl’ thing is trending with the kids right now, but this isn’t a playground and that pair outgrew peanut butter and jelly a long time ago. They need peacocks and caviar…and my darling, you are not caviar. Don’t hate yourself for it. It just…is.” She smoothed her slinky gown on the downward sweep of her hands. On the way back up, she cupped and plumped her ample cleavage. “Stop trying to compete with the peacocks, Talia. They can be a very tough act to follow. Like…umm…moi.”

  Drake still held me back—thank fuck. Every muscle in my body trembled along with Talia’s. The intensity of D’s grip told me he felt the same, but he didn’t alter his position, staring at Talia, communicating how deeply he believed in her.

  How the hell could he think she’d be just fine without him?

  That she didn’t need him to grow and flourish just as much as she needed me?

  She kept quivering—though from anger or the cold, I wasn’t certain. But when she cocked her arm back, her tiny fist coiling harder on the end, I got my answer.

  She wasted no time letting that right hook fly. Nailed Janelle square in the jaw with it, crumpling the witch to the ground. The woman was too stunned to even scream. At first.

  “You…bitch!” Janelle’s chest heaved, popping a few stones off the tight bodice of her gaudy gown. The skirt was hitched up to her thighs, letting her legs sprawl out like a discarded mannequin.

  “No.” Talia all but spat it, advancing and looming over her. “You’re the bitch, honey—and perhaps there was something, at some time, that was cute and sexy about you, but it’s been gone for a while now. You chose the wrong path, Janelle. I knew that as soon as we ran into your sorry ass in Las Vegas. You had exactly this coming to you then—but I stayed cool. I even vowed to stay cool tonight, unless you made a bad choice again.” As a long breath left her, she pushed back, smoothed her skirts and patted at her hair. “And surprise, surprise—you did. Bad choice, peahen. Very, very bad.”

  “Pea what?”

  “Hen. That’s what female peacocks are called, you idiot. They’re also not the ones who get all the pretty feathers. Guess God already knew they’d let it go to their puny bitch brains one day. At least the ones named Janelle.”

  “Aggggh. You…little…”

  She sputtered into silence when suddenly finding her sternum imprinted by the toe of Talia’s shoe. Just the toe, stamped with just enough pressure, delivered by our graceful girl, standing there with her skirt as delicately hiked as her eyebrows. She gazed down at Janelle with a mixture of fury and serenity that was a complete goddamn turn-on.

  “Stay away from me, Janelle—and my men. This is your first and last warning.”

  She pulled her leg back as if extracting it from a ball of slime. Smoothed her skirts and turned—

  Before spinning to see us standing there.

  I opened my arms.

  She ran into them, letting my coat absorb her tight little cry. I didn’t say a word until I’d wrapped my mother’s stole around her shoulders, then held her even closer.

  “That was…amazing.” I flowed my pride and adoration into a rasp against her hair.

  “To the point of nauseating,” she muttered into my chest.

  “Our Tolly. You’re a goddess.”

  “And she’s a horrible shrew.”

  “No argument, sweetheart.”

  “Please…get me out of here.”

  “Gladly.”

  I turned to motion Drake along—

  To see nothing but the bastard’s back, as he retreated once more behind the glass doors.

  Fucker.

  I sent the word at him in glaring form as we walked by, on our way to the valet stand. He had Talia to thank for me not acting on any other violent impulses. Most of my attention was allocated to her, huddled under my arm like a shaking bird, still so disturbed by her brush with Janelle’s venom that she never even noticed him.

  Where the hell had the body-snatchers taken the man I called brother?

  What the fuck had happened to him?

  The Drake I’d known wouldn’t have been able to watch what’d just happened then step away. The man I respected—loved—wouldn’t have let our little prize fighter defend us like that, pushing p
ast her comfort zone against a bitchzilla like Janelle, then just stand there like someone out for a pre-dessert stroll.

  He disgusted me and I let him know it. Glared harder before I guided Tolly out of sight, leaving him to deal with the trash he’d brought to this thing however he wanted. It was no longer my problem.

  The drive home was blissfully short but agonizingly silent. Periodic sniffles escaped the shivering girl in my lap, but other than that, she was quiet, withdrawn. I poured my concern out in strokes of her arms, through her hair and down her back—wordless reassurances which, for all I knew, were useless as well.

  This was a tough-as-hell gig—mostly because I wasn’t buying the entire thing myself. I was all in on the comfort part, in any way I possibly could—it was just the rest that was fucking up my brain, badly.

  Think. Think. There has to be a clue somewhere.

  Mentally, I retraced the past two weeks—trying desperately to pinpoint when Drake had started veering offline.

  He’d been fine in San Diego. We’d seen Talia off to work the morning we’d flown back here—after a round of loving her in the shower until the water ran cold. Like the three of us had even needed the heat by the time we were done.

  I shifted a little in my seat. Just the memories of that morning had my balls pulsing and my dick twitching. Subtle as the position change was, Tolly felt it and yanked up.

  “Do you want me to move?” Her voice was a tear-scratched croak.

  “No. No. Sorry, baby. Just adjusting. You know how things can go…when I’m this close to you, and…well…”

  “Yeah. Of—of course.”

  I smiled, watery and awkward. Her return look was pained and forced. And believe me, I knew forced. Had grown up with it.

  We were both drowning. And I no longer knew how to keep us afloat.

  My heart ached. It was battered and bruised, cowering in the corner of my chest like a lost puppy at the pound. She knew that too. Slipped a hand up, covering it, instantly lending me strength despite the emotional muck-fest she’d been subjected to tonight.

  She never stopped amazing me.

  I let my head fall back against the seat, watching the night pass by through the limo’s tinted windows.

  Street light.

  Darkness.

  Street light.

  Darkness.

  It changed so fast.

  Just like life.

  But not like love.

  Love wasn’t supposed to be like that. The lights were supposed to stay the same. The lights were supposed to stay on, dammit.

  No. That wasn’t it, either.

  Love wasn’t the lights. Love was…the car. Driving on, ever fueled, staying on the road despite the light or the darkness. And the people inside…they marveled and rejoiced when the light was around, then held on tightly when the darkness came…and prayed they were following the road in the right direction. But only the light would show them that.

  We’d get to the light again. But I still yearned to see the damn road.

  “I wish I could make it all better, Tolly. If I could, I would…I swear.”

  She tilted her face up. Pressed her lips to the bottom of my jaw. “I know.”

  “We just…have to keep trying. We have to get through to him…somehow. I don’t think I—” I huffed, retooling the words to better fit my thoughts. “No. I don’t think either of us knows how to live without him.”

  Her gut-deep mewl, pained and quivering, affirmed how solidly I’d bull’s-eyed the truth. “Stop.” She lifted a hand around the same place she’d kissed. Pushed her fingers against my lips. “Please. No more tonight, okay? I’m exhausted. And my fingers hurt.”

  Gently, I turned her hand around. Wisped soft lips across her stiff digits, taking care with the spots where little bruises had started to form. “Can you move them?” As she complied, with some strained whimpers, I stated, “If ice and ibuprofen don’t fix you up tonight, I’m taking you to a doctor in the morning.”

  She shook her head. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

  My chest was heavy even before she lowered back down against it. “The jet will take you whenever you want,” I said. “You’re not on a schedule.”

  You’re not stuck here with me.

  “I can’t do that yet. I need you tonight, Fletcher.” She confessed the words directly over the spot, in the center of my sternum, that felt the darkest and emptiest. Of course she did…because she just knew. “But can we just…sleep? I’m so tired.”

  I tucked her head in closer. “The adrenaline’s plummeting. That’s probably why you’re cold, too.”

  “Maybe when we wake up, this will all have been a bad dream.”

  “Right?” I smiled so she’d really hear it in my voice. “Wouldn’t that be great, yeah? And by the way—where the hell did you learn to punch like that?” I let the smile grow to a chuckle.

  “Nowhere.” She swiveled her head, exposing the sincerity in her dark mocha gaze. “That witch just made me so angry. She was saying awful things. Where does she get off doing that?”

  I stroked knuckles down her cheek. “I saw the whole thing, love. She doesn’t even know you. She’s just jealous.”

  “Oh, who even cares about the stuff about me.” She scowled dismissively. “Pssshh. You think I give a toot about those dumb names of hers?” Scrunching her eyebrows in frustration, she seemed to really consider her next words. “But when she talked about you and Drake, like she knew you better than I do, it lit a fuse. I didn’t even know I was capable of rage like that. I just hauled off and hit her.” She pushed her lower lip out, delectable as a plump strawberry. “I’m not sorry I did it, either.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not.” I was happy to incite at least half a giggle from her. It gave me courage to travel my hand back, smoothing it over her fancy hairstyle. “But it’s okay now, Talia. It’s done. Just let it go. I doubt any of us will hear much from Janelle after tonight.”

  She let out another little laugh. Dipped her head against my shirt and mumbled, “Janelle the gazelle.”

  I choked out a harder laugh. “What did you say?”

  “Janelle the gazelle. That’s what I mentally nicknamed her when we were in Las Vegas. She was all legs, running after the two of you that day. It just fit.”

  I kept grinning. Who the fuck was I to argue with the truth? “You are so adorable.” Kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She settled back into my arms as we drove the rest of the way home. When we got to the apartment, I tipped the driver before opening the door to our lobby. But instead of following me in, Talia stopped. Stepped back. Gazed up at the height of our tower, disappearing into the low clouds overhead.

  “Fletch?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What—what floor do you actually live on?”

  I almost forgot to answer. The wind kicked up, flattening her dress to her breathtaking body, slipping dark strands of her hair free. Best of all, her eyes were huge and luminous, like a cartoon princess drawing come to life. So fucking adorable.

  I leaned in, kissing her again—this time on the lips. She tasted amazing—remnants of her dinner wine and her tears, mixed with the fresh bite of the wind.

  “Do you really want to know, or is it going to give you a panic attack?”

  Her answer was surprisingly somber. “Yes. I really want to know. It’s time I start facing my fears. I can’t continue being weak and naïve.”

  I frowned, genuinely confused. “You, my love, are neither of those things.”

  Her luscious lips pressed together. “Well, I think that’s how the world sees me. And I’m fairly sure that’s how Drake sees me.”

  “Huh? He doesn’t—”

  “He needs more in a woman.” She drove on as if I hadn’t opened my mouth, her mind obviously made up. “Janelle probably wasn’t that woman, either, but—”

  “But we’re shelving this for tomorrow morning, too.” I spra
wled a hand against the small of her back, whooshing her into the building and the elevator before she could argue.

  Once we were in the lift, I shielded the panel while sliding my key card through the reader. If she realized we were on the top floor, she’d probably faint. Her new dedication to busting fears was thrilling to see, but some couldn’t be conquered just by speaking the magic words. Besides, she’d had her fist planted in Janelle’s face less than an hour ago. That was a damn good start to the effort for one night.

  “Baby.” I tugged her close again. “I absolutely guarantee that he does not think that about you.”

  “Really?” With her hands on my shoulders, she pushed back a little with her forearms. “Because you completely understand him right now?”

  Point to the brunette beauty. I told her so with an exhalation, hoping it sounded humble. “I don’t think he even understands himself at the moment.”

  The elevator door slid open and we stepped into the corridor. Her steps were even more sluggish now. The poor thing needed to be in bed about ten minutes ago—but as we stopped, relishing the silence after the complete chaos of the last hour, I pulled her close before even turning on the lights. I needed her near me, in this moment so fleeting but so timeless, our bodies close, our breaths twined, our heartbeats joined.

  Just this one moment. Connected once more.

  I leaned down. Poised my lips over hers like a violinist about to play, simply hovering…before pressing in physically. She was so soft, so inviting…but I kept the embrace chaste, waiting for her to spread and let me in. Once, twice, three times I did that, until she succumbed with a moan so tantalizing I nearly ditched my resolve to stop this thing at a kiss. Holy shit, how perfect it would be to lay her out on the couch and fuck her in the shadows…feeling my way up her body in the darkness…

  The fantasy made me groan as I stroked in with my tongue, tasting her…devouring her…completely needing her.

  With an effort that felt superhuman, I finally let her go. I dragged open my eyes and peered right into hers, staring at me like the owl Janelle had likened her to. A sage, serious, sexy-as-fuck owl.

  “Baby.” I traced a thumb over her incredibly pink lips. Eyes of an owl…mouth of a lioness. “What is it?”