by Brook Wilder
She shook out of my touch, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t care what happens to me, but Jack, I can’t lose him, too.”
Hell, I felt the same way. He had given me opportunities that most wouldn’t have and treated me like a son. I owed him everything, and if giving my life to protect those he cared about was what I needed to do, then I was gonna do it.
But first, I had to concentrate on keeping Becky calm. “Tell me about yourself.”
She looked over her shoulder. “What?”
I shrugged. “How did you grow up? Where are you from?”
She let out a little laugh. “You don’t want to know about me.”
I grabbed the beer I’d pulled out for her earlier, popping it open as I sat down on the couch. “What else do we have to do? Question for question so it’s fair, how about that?”
Becky sighed, running a hand through her hair before grabbing a beer and plopping into a nearby chair. “Fine. I’ll go first. Why do they call you ‘the Kid?’”
That was easy. “Because I was the youngest member to ever be recruited.” I remembered the way they had teased me about my appearance, some even telling me I wasn’t going to make it. “Why do you hang on to the Gallery?”
She plucked the beer from my hands and took a long drink, not looking at me. “Because it was what my father loved. I don’t want to give it up because I would be giving up a piece of him.”
The raw anguish in her voice made me want to wrap her up in my arms, though it occurred to me that I had no idea how to comfort a woman like Becky. She had been all I thought about over the last twenty-four hours, her face popping into my mind more than once before Jack had given me the news.
“What do your tattoos mean?”
I took the beer back from her and swallowed some down, allowing the cold liquid to settle in my belly before grinning. “Hell, I don’t know. The tattoo artist thought they would make me look tough, so I let him go at it.”
Her face fell into a look of shock. “You’re joking.”
I shook my head, the memory still making me smile after all these years. “I’m not.” I was drunk when I went into the shop, with two Legion members flanking me to ensure I didn’t chicken out. I barely remembered getting the damn thing, though the next few days were quite painful while it healed. “It’s some tribal shit he said.”
She let out a laugh, covering her mouth a second later. “You really shouldn’t do that when you’re drunk. What if he had tattooed your face or something?”
I gave her a wink. “Then I would be easy to pick out in a lineup.”
She let out another laugh and the sound filled my body with relief. Maybe this was going to work out.
Maybe Becky was going to trust me on this. “My turn.”
Her grin faded, and she looked down at her hands. I knew this was likely making her uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what the hell else to do.
“If you weren’t running the Gallery, what would you be doing?” I handed her the beer.
She blew out a breath as she took it from me. “Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never really thought of anything outside of it before.”
“Surely you have other dreams,” I prodded, watching as she fiddled with the tab on the beer. “I was going to be a computer geek if that makes you feel any better.”
Becky looked at me, her lips curling up at the ends. “I believe that. You look the type.”
Great, just great. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”
She shrugged. “I really don’t know. I grew up around strippers and bikers. They were my role models.” She laughed then, though it wasn’t a happy sound, and stood up. “God that sounds like some sort of trailer park trash, doesn’t it?”
I stood, catching myself just in time before I reached for her. “You’re so much more than that.”
“How would you know?” she replied, setting the beer on the table. “You don’t even know me, Gary.”
I was wrong. This was going to be torture.
I stepped by her to snatch the beer off the table, noticing her dart backwards to give me a wide berth. I drained the beer, then crumpled the can in my fist. “I never said I did.”
The tension in her posture drained now that she knew I hadn’t been going for her. She slumped down onto the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know your type, Gary. I bet your parents are madly in love and gave you the perfect life, didn’t they?” She gazed back up at me, her eyes tired. “I bet you believe that love will conquer all.” She looked back down at her hands. “Well it doesn’t. Hell, it doesn’t even exist. Love is just a fantasy that sells jewelry and flowers.”
Something inside me twisted at those words coming out of her mouth, the mouth that had been on mine only the night before. “So my parents are in love with each other,” I fired back. “Is that such a bad thing?”
A ghost of a smile curled the edges of her lips. “In your world, no,” she said. “But in mine, it doesn’t exist.” She got up then, not even looking at me. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
She grabbed her bag and walked out of the room, the air tense even after her departure. I raked a hand through my hair and sighed, thinking about her words. She had a dismal outlook on life, and while my childhood might have been perfect compared to hers, it didn’t mean she was undeserving of love.
No one was.
And I also doubted that lashing out at me had to do with her not believing in love. No, it felt like it was something entirely different; that she might have actually felt something when we were together. For someone like Becky, that would easily bring on anger.
So, what was I going to do about it? I wasn’t done with Becky White. Far from it. I had to make her see that loving someone didn’t make her weak, that it actually made her stronger and made life more livable. Was I in love with Becky White? It was too soon to tell, but whatever was between us, I wanted more. I wanted her to laugh with me, to sigh in my ear when I hit that sweet spot in her body.
I wanted to show her that she could be happy outside beyond the Gallery, that the strip club wasn’t her entire world.
“Shit,” I breathed, falling back onto the couch. This was going to be one tough assignment.
Chapter Eight
Becky
I tiptoed through the living room, not even allowing myself to glance over at Gary’s sleeping form while I passed by him. I’d had a rough night, more so because I knew he was only a few feet away and easily accessible if I wanted a release. Oh, it would have been so easy to open that door and straddle him again, lose myself in his touch, in his kiss, and pretend it was just a hookup. In fact, every fiber in my being urged me to do just that.
His words had thrown my mind in turmoil, making it impossible to sleep. The way he had talked about love made me question what I knew. I hadn’t really known love. Sure, I’d had my father and Jack, who cared for me in their own ways, but the world we lived in was harsh and unforgiving. I’d seen what happened to the girls who worked for me who thought they were different, somehow above this life and its rules. Love made one weak, or even just a belief in love, made one think they could survive on it alone.
And every time, the world swallowed them up and spit them out, leaving them broken. If it wasn’t for me and the other girls in the Gallery, they would’ve had nowhere to go. I saw it so many times that I steeled myself against any tender feelings for anyone, making sure I kept that hard wall around my heart so that no weakness could ever get to me.
But Gary had torn through that wall. I didn’t know how, or when, but I wanted to say it was that first night when he had loved my body like no other. There was something in his touch, something that touched my soul.
I hated the thought of it. Because I knew there was only one place it could lead.
Opening the door to the basement quietly, I walked down the stairs, hoping that there would be an area I could work out in. My stomach was in knots being so far away from
the Gallery, wondering if it was getting torn to shreds or if everything was okay. It was too early to call anyone and check in, knowing the girls were probably just getting to bed after a long night.
But I couldn’t just sit in my bedroom anymore. I was going stir-crazy and needed an outlet for all this pent-up energy.
As I crept down the rickety wooden stairs, relief swept through me. There was an entire gym set up in the basement, from a punching bag to a large mat, perfect for me to work on my self-defense. That was one thing I made all the girls who worked for me learn, knowing that some turned tricks after their shifts were over. Some soaked up the lessons, some didn’t, but none of them could say that they hadn’t had the opportunity to learn how to defend themselves.
Stripping off my shirt, I stretched to warm up, feeling the strain in my muscles. How was I going to survive these next few days cramped in this space with Gary? Part of me wanted to crawl into his arms and have him soothe my fears away, and the other part of me wanted to rail at him for making me feel these things, making me feel at all. I couldn’t control myself when my mind was so, well, confused.
I didn’t like this feeling. I felt like I was spiraling out of control, losing my grip on what had been my reality. For the first time in my life, I felt like I didn’t own my life. Jack was controlling my movements. Gary was controlling what I felt.
I felt helpless.
“Good morning.”
Whirling around, Gary stood in the doorway, the light of appraisal still in his eyes as if he’d been watching me. He was shirtless, with his hair sticking out every which way all over. My heart lurched at the sight of his endearing bedhead, my fingers itching to trace the contours of his body.
I wanted him so badly. “Hey. Did I wake you?”
He shook his head, his bare feet not making a sound as he plunked down the stairs. “Nah I’m an early riser anyway. Didn’t see this was down here.”
I twisted my fingers together. “I needed something to do.”
He cocked his head to the side, a shine of humor in his eyes. “I imagine it’s hard for you. Care to spar? I could use a workout.”
I swallowed, wanting to say no. Even in this close proximity, I could feel the pull of whatever was between us growing tighter, desperate to get out. But I couldn’t find the words to say no. “Sure.”
“Good,” he answered, stretching his arms out. “Your move.”
My body fell into a defensive stance automatically, while I attempted not to ogle his body. He wasn’t as built as other guys, but those forearms were beautiful.
And the story about his tattoo. In the dim morning light, the ink stood out against his body like a dark reminder of what he wanted to be. Or maybe it was more a reminder that he didn’t even know what he wanted.
Whatever the case was, I knew he was going to become much more than any other guy in the Legion.
Gritting my teeth, I charged at him, swiping my leg at his and hooking onto him in an attempt to take him down. But he grabbed my waist, and before I knew it, I was flat on my back staring up into his beautiful eyes.
“Point for me,” he said softly. “Don’t leave your side open. Go for something else. Eyes, balls, something other than my leg. I could see that coming a mile away.”
I stared at him, surprised at how fast he had moved, and enjoying his weight pinning me down far too much. This wasn’t going to work.
But Gary was the one to push off of me, reaching down with his hand to pull me up. “Again.”
I rolled my shoulders and looked for a weakness in his carriage. Every man had a weakness.
Then I realized what his was. My lips spread into a smile, and his responding surprise registered on his face. I sauntered toward him, exaggerating the sway of my hips. “You know I could learn a thing or two from you,” I said, dropping my voice down a notch.
“You could?” he asked, his body already relaxing.
I imagined what he was thinking, what he thought was going to happen next. As much as I wanted that to happen, I wanted to prove a point first.
Reaching up, I touched his chest, trailing my fingers over his skin. “Of course I could. I just need a man to teach me.”
His eyes darkened as he grabbed my wrist with a firm hold. I only had a moment to register what was happening before he had me on the mat again, his body pressed up against mine.
“Good try, Becky,” he said, his fingers caressing my wrist. “Way to use your body to catch a man off guard. If I had been a lesser man, I would have fallen for it.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, goosebumps breaking out down my arm from where his fingers touched me.
He just smiled before pushing off me and offering to pull me up. “Again.”
Interesting. I ignored his help and pushed myself off the floor, taking my time to wind my hair up into a messy bun while I plotted my next move. Was I that predictable?
“Think, Becky,” he said in a low voice, his arms resting at his sides. “What’s my weakness? What keeps me vulnerable to an attack?”
“Your trust in people?” I offered as I walked around him.
He chuckled. “Perhaps, but not during a fight, I promise you. I’ve learned the hard way that emotions don’t help in a fight.”
“What does that mean?” I asked circling him.
“Jack taught me long ago to detach from my emotions,” he said, meeting my eyes as I passed in front of him. “He had the guys attack me over and over again until I didn’t shed one tear. It was harsh, but effective.”
I hadn’t seen that side of Jack, the one that would beat the good out of a man who was clearly different than the rest. It was probably the right thing to do, assuring Gary wouldn’t be killed due to sloppy fighting, but still.
And then I saw it. Gary’s weakness. His injured side. The knife wound he’d sustained at the Gallery was still fresh. The area had to be tender, susceptible to opening up again.
That was enough to take him down. That was my opening.
I attacked from the side, kicking him hard and watching as he toppled to the floor, a grunt of surprise escaping from his mouth. Wasting no time, I pinned him down with my legs.
I gazed at him lying flat on the mat, a grin on my face. “Found it.”
He groaned, his arm protecting the cut. “I would say you did. Damn, I can’t breathe.”
My elation short lived, I took in the real pain on Gary’s face. What if I’d kicked him too hard? I hadn’t meant to do serious damage.
Before I knew it, he was flipping me over again, a familiar smirk on his lips. “See? The emotion got to you.”
“You’re not hurt?”
He shook his head. “Oh no, you did a number on me, Beck. I’m going to fucking feel that for days.”
I laughed, unable to help it. “Serves you right. You told me to find your weakness.”
His grin grew wider. “I did, didn’t I? Well, you did well, taking me out like that. Good job.”
I smiled at him, feeling light for the first time in a while. With his boyishly handsome looks and the way his eyes twinkled with laughter, it was hard to remain impassive.
But my cheer evaporated when my eyes dropped to the bright red blood oozing through the bandage on his side. “Let me up. That needs fresh dressings.”
He did as I asked, and I wasted no time jogging up the stairs, Gary close behind me. In the cabinet, I found a first aid kit, motioning for him to lie down on the couch.
“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” he asked as he stretched out with his arms behind his head.
I set the kit down beside the couch, dropping to my knees. “I do. I used to patch up my dad all the time.” Though my eyes rested on Gary’s skin, memories of my father swam through my mind. He would come home with all kinds of scrapes and wounds. The last thing he would’ve needed was an infection. He would grumble, but let me clean him up, knowing that it’d at least make me feel better.
Finding the antibiotic cream and some gauze, I peeled
away the old dressing and dabbed at the blood, glad to see it wasn’t a gaping wound.
“It’s just a cut,” Gary mumbled.
“A large cut,” I replied, pressing the gauze with the cream on it against his flesh. “That can still get infected, you know.”
“It would take more than that to bring me down,” he answered as I put a few strips of tape to hold the gauze in place.
My fingers drifted over his skin, making it ripple in places I touched. Other than the knife wound, he had no other scars. I wondered how he’d earn his next one.
I looked at him, seeing that he was watching me intently. “Why would you want to put yourself through this?”
