Untouchable: (Unstoppable - Book 1) (The Unstoppable Series)

by Danielle Hill

  Unable to leave him alone, I climbed up from the bathroom floor and padded back to the bedroom. Sliding beneath the covers beside him, I pulled them over both of us and allowed sleep to take me. When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty. My eyes scanned the room and found Reno sitting on a chair, his head lowered, legs braced apart. His fists were closed so tightly, his knuckles were white.

  I cleared my throat, lifting on one elbow and tugging at the sheet to cover my bare chest. Reno raised his head slowly. When our eyes met, his overflowed with guilt, a storm of regret etched all over his beautiful face. He coughed lightly, dipping his gaze.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't...” He looked up with remorse. “I didn't use anything.”

  “Um, it's okay. I, uh, I went on birth control,” I whispered, my voice sticking in my throat.

  He nodded once, before his gaze drifted down over my sheet-covered body, his face twisting in anguish.

  “I, uh,” he started, “there was... blood.”

  I felt my face heat as his eyes returned to mine. Shifting my gaze, I clutched the cover tighter, resisting the urge to look down at the evidence of my lost virginity. The evidence of my stupid failed attempt to heal him.

  “I shouldn't have been so... I wasn't thinking—”

  “It's okay,” I cut him off quickly, my voice almost frantic. We didn't need to address what had happened. I didn't want to hear it out loud. The last thing he needed was more regret. The last thing I wanted was an apology. “It's okay,” I said again, quieter this time.

  He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it again and dropped his head. Rising to his feet, he walked to the door.

  With his back to me, he murmured, “Take as long as you need, Ri. Just let yourself out when you're done.”

  The door clicked into place quietly behind him, but it felt like a bomb detonated inside my chest.

  Twenty

  Reno

  I’d never felt guilt like it. I’d lost my brother and Dad on the same night. It had hollowed me out in a way I doubted I’d ever recover from. Not sure you’re supposed to. But the way I'd felt after waking up the morning after the funeral, Riley naked beside me and the bed sheets stained with her blood. That was like taking a round from an AK-47 straight to the chest. We couldn’t recover from that. She’d never recover from that.

  The worst part was I couldn’t even remember it. Couldn’t remember what she felt like. I’d imagined fucking her in more ways than I could count for years. Imagined making love to her for the past few months. Held off because I wanted to do it right, to make it fucking special for her. Something she’d look back on, no matter where we were in the future, and remember fondly. And when it came down to it, I hadn’t even looked her in the goddamn eyes. That morning, I’d wanted to ask her if she’d wanted it, but I was too damn scared of her answer. So, I’d walked. Like a fucking coward. And just left her there.

  Swiping a hand down my face to cover a groan of pure despair, I let my head hang back off the couch. How the fuck could I have done that to her? She’d called to check on me since, left a voice message asking if I was okay. I couldn’t bring myself to answer her call, but I’d listened to that voicemail a hundred times, needing to hear the sound of her voice. I didn’t deserve it, but it was all I had left. I’d been an asshole to her since they died.

  It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her there. I did. Fuck, I did. But I’d been on the verge of falling apart every second, and that wasn’t something I wanted her to see. That wasn’t me. Not the guy she knew or thought she loved. I didn’t know who the fuck I was anymore. So, I’d pushed her away. And when she kept coming back, I’d treated her exactly like I swore I never would.

  Even if she could forgive me—and because she’s pure heart, she probably would—I wouldn’t let her. I would never forgive myself. I was a fucking tragedy. A train wreck. I had nothing to offer her. Could never give her the things she deserved. And I’d already taken enough from her. I would never be the guy I was before. Not now.

  “You ready, man?”

  I straightened, bracing my forearms on the sides of the couch before looking up at Leon and Mack. Danny and Jase drew up behind them. All tall and brawny, they’d been on the team with me for as many years as I could remember. We'd had each other’s backs on and off the field, practically lived in each other’s houses and eaten at each other’s tables. These guys loved Brett and Owen like family. They wanted retribution almost as much as I did.

  Big palms landed on my back as I stood. I hadn’t fought more than I’d needed to through school. If a score needed to be settled, I’d settle it. Usually with my fists. Word got around. Meant I didn’t need to use them much, not that I couldn’t. Brett’s cousin trained fighters. Until he’d moved to Florida a couple of years ago, he’d owned a gym. O and I used to spend hours there, sparring with the guys, hitting the bags. So yeah, if I needed to fight. I’d fight. And I was fucking good at it.

  I’d had the guys looking into what happened with O. Brett, I couldn’t do anything about. His was an invisible killer. But Owen? Today, I’d put a name to the asshole who took his life for a bag of dope. Some strung out, druggie waster who’d raised a knife instead of his fists. Who’d robbed a twenty-year-old of his entire future. Yeah, Owen was no angel, far from it, but did he deserve to die on a street corner before he’d even had a chance to live? Fuck no. And I couldn’t sit back and let that shit go. That wasn’t me.

  The guys shadowed me to the door and into Le’s car. It was less than a five-minute drive to the old warehouse on Bleaker Street. Less than five minutes until I could release some of the rage that consumed my head night and goddamn day. Five minutes too fucking long—my body thrummed with restless anticipation the entire drive.

  We parked the car and jogged the rest of the way, rounding the side of the building. The shutters were fully raised along one side. A mass of screaming people circled two bloodied, bare-chested guys as they grappled with each other. Adrenaline buzzed in my veins, my heart pumping double time.

  Just inside the door, some gold-toothed, gold chain wearing motherfucker tried to educate us on why we shouldn’t be here. Tried to tell me I wouldn’t be kicking the shit out of the guy who killed my brother.

  “Got a score to settle with someone in there. Won’t be going fucking anywhere until I do.”

  “Nah, bro, you can’t just show up and expect to fight. It don’t work like that.”

  Teeth bared, I stepped forward until we stood nose to nose, forehead to forehead, and his sniggering face touched mine. He laughed, like this was all some big fucking game. I pulled my head back and slammed it forward, cracking his nose wide open. A smirk pulled at the sides of my lips as I watched him go down, folding like a deck of fucking cards and screaming like a bitch as his hands slapped to his face. Red liquid oozed through his fingers. Everyone rushed forward. My boys moved in to flank me. I wasn’t leaving tonight without getting what I came for.

  The crowd in front of us, three rows deep, bayed like wild animals. They were only happy when they smelled blood. I knew about the bare-knuckle fight scene. I’d been a few times. It was exactly what I needed tonight. Hollers from behind drew my attention outside and I edged back.

  My eyes narrowed when they landed on the murdering fucker I came here for, and a shot of pure energy burst through me. I was up, bouncing on the soles of my feet, hot blood coursing through my veins like molten lava readying to explode. I wanted to get my hands on him. Fucking destroy him. I drew a hand up and pointed right at his face as my smirk twisted into a manic smile.

  This is for you, O.

  And then I was moving. One target in my sights. The guy rose to his full height, raised his hands and curled the tips of his fingers inward, smirking as he beckoned me in. He knew who I was. He didn’t know I was going to bust his skull open. He was about to find out.

  My fist slammed into his face the second I was in reaching distance. I’d shocked him. I didn’t g
ive him a chance to recover, to go for the knife I didn’t doubt he was packing. I lifted my arms and rained down on him like a fucking storm. Satisfaction seeped further into my veins with every hit, but none of it touched the pit of agony caving my chest. The grief only intensified, until I couldn’t fucking breathe. The smile slipped from my face and I shut it all down. Until I couldn’t fucking feel anything anymore.

  I watched my right arm pull back again with a sense of surreal detachment, an almost out-of-body experience, like I was a spectator, like I needed to see every second. There was a sickening crunch of bone as my knuckles connected with his cheekbone, the skin splitting open. Chaos erupted all around me, but a blissful numbness settled in as his head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his mouth in slow motion. I kept hitting.

  When his body tried to fold in on itself, my left hand fisted his shirt and held him upright, while my right swung again. The skin over my knuckles bust on impact, but I didn't stop, didn't even feel it. A roaring blasted through my ears and I swung again. And again. And again. I didn't stop when his eyes rolled back in his head. I didn't stop when his nose cracked, or his body went limp, hanging from my grip like a wet noodle. I didn't stop when screams and shouts tore through the cloud of rage shrouding me, fuelling me. I never wanted to stop. Not until his face was unrecognizable, until his mangled body would need scraping off the floor. Until there was nothing left of him, and he was six feet fucking under like my brother.

  Hands caged my arms behind my back, hauling me away. The noise in my head became deafening as I fought to get loose, to go back and keep pummelling until I fucking undid it all. With a guttural cry, I sank to my knees, my chest heaving, my mind crazed. Owen was never coming back. Brett was never coming back. My stupid, selfish bitch of a mother was never coming back. Eventually, every fucker left. They promised they’d stay. They were all supposed to fucking stay. But they’d all left.

  And now I just wanted it all to fucking go away.

  Twenty-One

  Riley

  “Where is he?” I asked, keeping my voice low, as Leon pulled the door open and stepped back to allow me to move inside.

  The scene that greeted me halted me in my tracks. My head swivelled, wide eyes straying swiftly back to Leon, who dropped his gaze to his feet.

  Voice sharp and accusing, I murmured, “You said you were taking care of him.”

  My heart felt like it grew heavier in my chest, as if it had somehow absorbed too much, like a sodden sponge I couldn’t wring out.

  “I tried, Riley. We all did. He wouldn’t listen. That’s why I called you.”

  My gaze drifted back to the darkened room at the end of the hallway. A sharp triangle of light spilled into the space, illuminating the prone form taking up most of the small couch. Reno sat, reclined with his chin to his chest and eyes closed. Even from here, I could see one of them had swollen shut. A multitude of dark shadows littered his face. Dried blood crusted on his pale shirt and his knuckles had split open.

  “What happened?”

  I already knew that he’d put the guy who’d stabbed Owen to death in the hospital last week. I also knew that no matter how many messages I’d left him that night, and every night before and after, he hadn’t picked up the phone or called me back. He hadn’t been back to his trailer, either. I’d stayed there alone for a few days. I must have sent him a hundred messages since then.

  He hadn’t called tonight. Leon had. I’d come because I always would. If Reno needed me, I would be there. But the possibility that he might not want me here, that he might tell me to leave, terrified me.

  “It was like he wanted them to hit him, Ri.” There was a distinct undertone of fear in Leon’s voice. Fear for his friend, for the state of Reno’s mind. “He just stood there, taking hit after hit, didn’t even try to defend himself.” He trailed off for a second, brows lowering as if he was seeing it all again, before giving himself a visible shake and twisting back to face me.

  “He said he wanted to fight. We tried to talk him out of it. Figured after the way things went down last time it wasn’t a good idea, I mean, fuck, we barely stopped him from killing that guy. But he was going with or without us, and we couldn’t let him go alone. We expected him to beat the crap out of someone. Seemed like that’s what he planned to do. He picked some random dude out of the crowd, head-butted him... and then just stood back while they jumped him.”

  Leon’s hands landed on his thighs, disbelief still visible in his eyes when his gaze traveled back to his friend.

  “He could have easily taken the first two, no fucking doubt. Didn’t even raise a fist, Ri. When we figured out what he was doing, we ran in. Two other guys jumped us, and it was fucking chaos. But... he didn’t fucking try, Riley. He didn’t try.”

  Dread spiked through me and my feet crossed the distance before I’d noticed I was moving. My need to comfort Reno, to soothe the demons plaguing him, overrode my doubt and my fear. Falling to my knees between his spread thighs, I wrapped both hands around his calves and rested my cheek down lightly on his bent knee. I didn’t speak. The floorboards creaked under Leon’s feet as he walked back down the hall and then climbed the stairs, leaving us alone.

  Leon’s mom had married a nice guy named Alec two years ago, and they’d moved out of the trailer that sat three down from mine and into this house a few months later. They’d kept the trailer. Leon sometimes used it. Reno probably could have gone there if he was finding it too hard to be home, but I suspected that he hadn’t wanted to be that close to me.

  The thought gutted me, but still I held onto him. I couldn’t let him go. Not until he told me to.

  Maybe not even then.

  “I’m sorry,” his voice rasped, low and tortured, and laden with regret. His words seemed even heavier, shrouded in darkness. There was something about those two words that broke my heart. Something that spoke of finality.

  Turning to press my face into the fabric of his sweatpants, I nodded.

  “I know.”

  I’d told him in a million ways, in the voice messages I’d left, in the text messages I’d sent, that he had nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t know whether he’d even listened to them or read them. I couldn’t get those words to come now.

  “I never meant for that to happen, not like that.” His voice broke. I gripped him tighter, squeezing my eyes shut against his leg. “Never like that, Ri.”

  I nodded again, incapable of doing anything else. I knew that. With everything in me, I knew it. I also knew something had been stolen from us. Something neither of us knew how to get back. And not just our first time. It was more than that. Shifting, I rose to look at him. My trembling fingers lifted to trace the bruises on his face, carefully smoothing over the cut on his forehead and the lump above his left eye.

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice nothing more than a heartbroken whisper.

  He shrugged, glancing away.

  “Ren, I—” I stopped, my eyes searching his face. “Do you... want me here?”

  The vulnerability in my voice seemed to echo around the room, bouncing off every surface, as I waited for his response. Nothing came for so long I felt a lone tear slip from the corner of my eye and roll over the crest of my cheek. Looking down, I pulled my lip between my teeth and tried to figure out what I should do. I couldn’t leave him. I didn’t know how.

  So, I sat on the floor, between his legs, dripping liquid pain onto the varnished floorboards until the watery dots collected to form a big puddle. Only then did Reno’s hand take mine, his body shifting to accommodate me as he lifted me like I weighed nothing and positioned me across his lap, tucking me into his chest. His large palm covered the entire side of my face as he pressed his mouth down into my hair.

  I’d once sworn I’d never let him in because I knew once I did, I wouldn’t know how to be without him. He’d made me believe I’d never have to, and God knew, I’d tried to prepare myself for him to be wrong. I just hadn’t imagined how deeply I could fall, o
r how quickly everything could fall apart.

  When they came, Reno's words carried a fragility that left him wide open, showing me his biggest fear. “Will you leave me, Riley?”

  Rising, I took his beautiful, battered face in both hands and forced his eyes to mine. With a certainty I hoped left him in no doubt, I shook my head vehemently and swore, “Never. I promise I will never leave you.”

  His nose brushed mine before he kissed me, soft and slow. I poured everything I had into him, every ounce of strength and love I had to give. I wanted him to have it. He had nothing else in this world, but he could have everything I was, if he’d only take it.

  We stayed like that for hours, neither speaking, only the light sound of our breaths disturbing the still, silent air around us. Leon’s mom popped her head in the door to check on us at some point, sadness tugging at her pretty features. Leon did the same, eyes tight, face drawn. With my cheek pressed against the solid surface of Reno’s chest as it rose and fell steadily beneath me, my eyes slid closed despite my attempts to stay awake.

  I felt his lips brush against my temple, and just before I drifted off, I heard him whisper, “You will, Riley.”

  I woke up alone.

  Twenty-Two

  Riley

  The sound of the lock turning over made me spring from the bed, my bare feet slapping against the linoleum as I plodded quickly down the short hall.

  “Reno?” Heavier footsteps halted abruptly. Disappointment surged inside of me and I muttered, “Oh, hey.”

  Leon gave me a half smile, understanding in his eyes. “You been staying here?”

  I shrugged, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “Not really. I just... stop by, open the drapes, stock the fridge, in case... you know.” My voice drifted off, gaze dropping to the floor. Forcing a tight smile, I tilted my head toward the now covered window and mumbled, “I forgot to draw the curtains.”