1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

“Baby, leave it alone. Let’s go.” Jonah slides his hand around my waist.

  “Yeah, you should be scared.” I lean in until our noses are almost touching. “Every time you get in your car, I want you to think about how easy it would be for me to cut your brakes. I’m sure you have some overpriced piece of fiberglass built in some foreign country. Do you have any idea how simple it is to disassemble a car? A few missing bolts and the thing falls apart while you’re driving down the freeway.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me, bitch.”

  Her eyes travel back and forth between Jonah and me.

  “Forget it, Camille. Let’s go,” her friend says from behind her.

  “Hey, hey, hey! What do we have here? I love a good catfight.” Blake strolls up with a huge grin on his face, like he saw the entire thing and finds it hilarious. “They’re way more fun naked, but then again . . .” He scratches his chin and looks at the ceiling before looking back at us. “Isn’t everything?”

  I bite my lip against a smile.

  “Blake, this is Camille Fisher.” Jonah introduces Blake, and I don’t miss that he pulls me back a good two feet as he does.

  Camille’s eyes sparkle as she takes in all that is Blake. He gives her a visual once- over, like he’s sizing up a meal. It’s obvious where this will end up tonight.

  “Camille, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Blake’s double meaning makes me giggle-snort, earning me another glare from the female fighter.

  “Come on, baby. Leave her to Blake.” Jonah guides me away from the group, still wiping red lipstick from his face.

  “Here, allow me.” I run my thumb along his full lower lip, rekindling my anger at the reminder that another woman pressed her mouth against his. “Where do you think she parked her car?”

  He kisses my finger, smiling. “Don’t know. But damn, watching you nut up on that bitch? Tough, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. “There. All memories of her erased.” My fingers absently run along the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know what came over me. My tolerance tank was full and I snapped.”

  “Now you know how it feels to be me.”

  His words bring my thoughts back to earlier. As pissed as I was at Camille, Jonah must feel that a million times worse facing off with Del Toro. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

  “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Wash all this red lipstick from my hand.” I hold my hand up, and quickly drop it. I don’t need to wash my hand, I just need a second to shake off my thoughts and get through the night.

  “I’ll go with—”

  “No, it’s fine. You’ve got people who want to talk to you here. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  His questioning stare locks on mine, as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. I avert my eyes, knowing he’ll be able to if I give him enough time.

  “All right, find me when you’re done. Or I’ll find you.”

  “Jonah, I’m fine. Really.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, but I take my chance to leave before he changes his mind. I kiss his dimpled cheek, and slip from the room.

  The maître d’ directs me to the restroom at the other side of the restaurant. I welcome the distance and take the time to sort my head. Halfway there, something familiar catches my eye. I stop mid-step and squint. No, it can’t be.

  Sitting at an intimate table for two is a stunning woman with long black hair and a shimmering gold dress. She flips the dark locks in a playful manner, a bright smile lighting her face. She seems happy and carefree. If I didn’t know better I’d say she looks . . . in love.

  “Mom.”

  Twenty-five

  Raven

  It’s been two years since I’ve seen her. Part of me wants to run to her, hoping the sight of me will make her smile. I want her to tell me she’s missed me and has been meaning to call, as most moms would do with a child they haven’t seen in two years. But I’m frozen in place. Those thoughts are nothing more than the musings of a neglected child—one who wants what she’ll never have.

  I study her as she sips her wine, her eyes intent on the john across the table. She tilts her head and smiles. The softness in her gaze makes my heart pinch with envy.

  I’ve never been on the receiving end of her smile. Her blank stares, those I know. The way her sparkling eyes go dead when she looks at me, I know that too. And she’s certainly never looked at me with love. Indifference, yes. Resentment, maybe.

  Love? No.

  She wouldn’t give me that. But here, for the right price, she gifts these things to a stranger. He’s paid for it. He is deserving of it, but not me, not her own daughter.

  My breath becomes short. Anger boils my insides. Tears launch their brutal attack without mercy. This time, I don’t fight them. I savor the sting on my cheeks as the salty evidence of my neglect consumes me. I welcome the sadness and desperation as it spurs on my rage.

  I’ve been such a fool. Daydreaming about what might be. I have no parents. They used each other to create a sick joke of a human being for their own selfish reasons. I’ve put up with the neglect and abuse for long enough. No more.

  My legs begin a journey my mind hasn’t caught up to. Before I know it, I’m standing at their table. My eyes lock on my mom. I sense the curious stare of her date from the corner of my eye, but I wait. I wait to be acknowledged by her.

  It doesn’t take long before her face turns to me with a polite smile, probably thinking I’m a waitress, and then falls instantly: blank stare, dead eyes.

  No smile for me, mom? What a shocker.

  Silently, our eyes locked on each other, my lips curl.

  “Can we help you?” says the john.

  I ignore him and speak directly to her. “How could you?” The acrid tone of my words makes her shift in her seat.

  “Raven,” she whispers my name like it’s a dirty word. Her eyes dart around the room. “I’m on a date. Call me tomorrow and we can—”

  “How fucking could you? You smile at him.” I point an accusing finger at the john. “But you can hardly stand to look at me!” My fist slams against their table, shaking the china. “Your own daughter.”

  Eyes on the john, she shakes her head and shrugs as if to say, I don’t know what she’s talking about.

  Bitch!

  “I’m sorry about this, Mark. There must be some mis—”

  “You’re sorry, Mark?” My glare swings back and forth between Mark and my mom. “You’re sorry, fucking Mark? You ruined my life!”

  Mark jumps from his chair. “Watch your tone! We’re having dinner, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll turn around and walk out of here. Now.”

  I have no intention of walking out of here. Not without saying what I need to say.

  “Did you know, Mom? Did you know what his plan was for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your dad tell you that he . . . that he . . .” I can’t bring myself to say it, but the fear showing in her wide eyes tells me she knew. “He’s come for me.”

  Her hand grips at her throat and her face pales. She leans to the side, squinting at something behind me. She wants to avoid what I’m saying. No, not this time.

  I get right in her face and point. “You did this to me. Why? You ruined my life. I wish you never had me!”

  Her eyes glisten before they drop to her lap.

  “That’s enough!” Mark grabs my arm and pulls hard.

  Unfazed by Marks tightening grip, I intend on expelling the ugly until they throw me out. “Do you hear me, whore? I wish I was never born!”

  “Get your motherfucking hands off her,” a low, but authoritative rumble demands from my back.

  Mark’s eyes move to a towering figure behind me before he releases his hand. I don’t have to turn around to know my savior as his strong arms wrap around my waist.

  The sound of Jonah’s voice and comfort of his touch trigger a sob from deep in my chest. He’s here. T
hank God. I lean into his embrace. I don’t know how much he heard, but his presence reminds me of what I have and dulls the ache of what I never will.

  “I’ve got you, baby. Let me take you home.”

  Home.

  Jonah is my home now. He’s the only one who ever cared enough to fight for me. He’s my family. All that matters now is us.

  Jonah turns me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest, and let the emotions overtake me. His soothing words are nothing but background noise to my uncontrollable sobs.

  He walks us from the restaurant and back to our waiting limo. The tears begin to dry as I’m placed into the privacy of the car. I’m a mess of nerves, anger, and hurt as verbal vomit flows from my lips like a sorority girl on induction night. Sobs break with roaring words of devastation as twenty-one years of pain finally find release.

  Jonah’s eyes are wide, watching me kick and scream, throwing out every curse word that comes to mind. I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, but Jonah flinches as the once foreign words tumble from my lips with ease.

  Seconds turn into minutes before my heart rate slows and my muscles relax. Exhaustion sets in. Jonah slides to my side, wrapping me in his arms.

  “You finished?” His question is tender and laced with meaning.

  Finished crying? Finished with my mom? Finished fighting my future?

  Nodding my head into his neck, he holds me tighter.

  “I should’ve gone with you. I never should’ve let you leave after that shit with Camille.” He sounds angry with himself, but none of what happened tonight is his fault.

  A new wave of anger flickers at the mention of her name, but there’s no fuel left to ignite it. I sink deeper into his embrace.

  “Taylor wanted me to be seen in public with her to promote the Female MMA League. I told him I wouldn’t do it, but I guess she didn’t like taking no for an answer.” His lips press against the top of my head. “Don’t think she’ll be hearing no from Blake.”

  Camille up against Blake. She doesn’t stand a chance.

  “I understand. It just caught me off guard. Del Toro, Camille, my mom . . .”

  “Crazy night.”

  I nod.

  “Feel good? Telling her off like that?”

  My face heats, and I’m thankful it’s dark so he can’t see it; although, he can probably feel it through his shirt.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Everything. You were yelling pretty loud. I’m proud of you, baby.” His warm hand caresses my arm, reinforcing his words.

  “Proud? I acted like an idiot in there. Made a fool out of myself, out of you.”

  “You stood up for yourself. Let your mom know what you’ve been keeping inside for way too long. What you did was really brave.”

  Once again, he gives, unknowingly filling my emotional cup to the brim. And then some.

  “Please tell me no one from your team heard. Your boss? Your publicist? Camille!” My voice grows louder as hysteria returns.

  “Shhh, they had no clue. I went to find you and saw you leaning over your mom like a bear about to attack. I told the hostess to give them the message that you were sick and I had to get you home. Did me a favor. I hate those stuffy dinners, everyone blowing sunshine up each other’s asses.”

  The limo slows to a stop. I peer out the window to see we’re in Jonah’s driveway. Charlie, the limo driver, opens the door and Jonah gets out. I hear him mumbling something about not talking to the media followed by Charlie’s emphatic agreement. Jonah reaches in to help me out of the car.

  “Miss Raven, it’s been a pleasure.” Charlie’s face looks concerned.

  I wipe my eyes and smile. “Thank you, Charlie. It was nice meeting you.”

  Jonah tosses him a thick fold of bills and a chin lift and guides me to the front door. I beeline it to Jonah’s room to take off my dress and wash my face.

  Stepping into the bathroom, I flip on the light and recoil at my reflection. Walking closer to the mirror, I tilt my head and squint.

  Holy heck.

  Black eye makeup marks channel down my face like a road map of mayhem. Blotchy red marks on my cheeks and forehead highlight my bloodshot eyes. I look like a demented prom queen, minus all the blood. And Jonah held me like this, as I screamed every cuss word I could think of.

  My hands fly to my mouth. He must think I’m a lunatic.

  Words thrown from my hissy fit come rushing back. The memory of Jonah’s hazel eyes, wide and set on me while . . . While I made a total fool out of myself.

  Hysteria swells in my chest. I roll my lips into my mouth and force back the maniacal laughter. A fluttering bubbles up from my chest as I recall my mom’s face when I stepped to her table. Laughter explodes, ricocheting off the tiled walls. Mark’s face when he saw Jonah has me doubled over. The sorry sack looked like he soiled his briefs.

  The intensity of what happened sinks in. I muffle my frenzy into a washcloth, hoping its cool contact will ease the delirium. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I check out my blurred reflection. Crazy eyes, bleeding black tears, huge smile. Pure, certifiable insanity.

  I collapse into a torrent of giggles, causing rivers to stream down my face. Tears born of laughter feel so much better than those born from pain. My jaw aches, but the howl continues to tumble from my lips.

  My side cramps. I press against the pain and try to calm down with deep breathing.

  It doesn’t work.

  My stomach muscles contract as I cackle without control. The sound fades in waves as I trade oxygen for lunacy. Is it possible to die of laughter?

  I sense movement from the corner of my eye. Jonah is standing in the doorway, frozen and staring. Without the breath to speak, I hold up my palm and pray he gets the message. Yes. I’ve officially lost it.

  “What the fuck?” he whispers.

  I shake my head, pleading with him to stop. If he speaks another word, I’m pretty sure I’ll cough up my kidneys from laughing.

  He tilts his head, studying me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He didn’t listen. I squeeze my eyes shut, and soundless laughter racks my body.

  “I . . . can’t . . . stop.” I manage to get out the words before another wave of laughter brings me to my knees.

  “Baby?” His lips are twitching like he’s fighting the urge to join me in Crazytown.

  He closes the distance between us in two long strides and he kneels in front of me. His face is fixed in a sexy half-grin; his eyelids are low and lustful. He grabs my face hard, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. My laughter dies under the intensity of his stare. Blood races through my veins and my belly somersaults. Heat blooms in my chest and I lean in.

  “There she is,” he whispers.

  My pulse surges with a furious passion that is anything but funny. Eyeing his full lips, I get closer, pressing my chest against his. My tongue slowly makes a pass along my lower lip, preparing for his attention.

  “That’s my girl,” he growls before his lips cover mine.

  Exploring his mouth, desire consumes me. I scrape my teeth along the inside of his bottom lip and swallow his answering groan. All the emotions from this evening are spiraling together to fuel the kiss and ramp up my need. I rip through his dress shirt, buttons bouncing off the marble floor. Pushing it from his shoulders, I run my hands down his rippled abdomen, digging my nails in as I go. His hands tangle in my hair to deepen the kiss. The smell of mint and aftershave permeate the air and seduce my senses.

  His hand trails down my arm, leaving a wake of fire against my skin. With a gentle touch, he finds the slit of my dress, pushing the fabric aside at my hip. Still on my knees, I spread my legs in anticipation. He grips my hip then slides his hand down to where I need it most. I groan and roll my hips into his hand.

  He stills. I smile.

  “All night?” His voice is dark and hungry.

  “Yes, all night.” My answer is spoken through the satisfied smile that pulls at my lip
s.

  His eyes lock on mine, wide and fascinated.

  “What? You didn’t expect me to wear panties with this dress, did you? It’s too low cut in the back. I had to go commando.” Who knew something as simple as not wearing panties could give me so much power? And power over someone as strong and commanding as Jonah is a potent aphrodisiac.

  “That would have saved us a whole lot of trouble tonight. If I had known you were naked under that dress, I can guarantee you wouldn’t have seen Camille or your mom. Hell, you wouldn’t have seen much outside of my sheets.”

  I place a soft kiss against his lips and stand. His eyebrows drop low as he watches me with rapt attention. I turn my back to him, but peek over my shoulder and wink. He stares at me, a helpless look on his face.

  Yes!

  I slip a strap off my shoulder, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his. He licks his lips. I turn and glance over my other shoulder before sliding that strap down. His fists flex against his massive thighs. Inch by inch, I drop the dress lower in a lazy striptease. His eyes glaze over beneath heavy lids as I reveal the backside of my naked body in painstakingly slow steps.

  Finally, with the dress pooling around my feet, I step out of the silken fabric. I’m left standing in my high heels. And nothing else.

  Jonah rises to his feet. Still with my back to him, I’m attacked by a moment of self-consciousness and cup my breasts to hide them from his view.

  He steps behind me. I can feel the heat from his body and smell the spice of his cologne, but he’s not touching me.

  “Turn around,” he demands gently.

  My head swivels his way, followed by my body. The clicking of my shoes against the marble floor is the only sound in the room next to my quickened breath.

  His eyes take me in from hair to heels. With a feather light touch, he removes my hands from my breasts. “No hiding.”

  He runs his fingers from my hand, to my shoulder. They continue their journey down my spine to my bottom. I suck in a breath as he traces the line down between my legs and back up leaving a trail of heat that pools in my belly. He walks in a slow circle around me, never breaking his fingers contact with my flesh, skating around to my stomach, my hip, and back while he walks.