Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2)

by Verlene Landon

  “We’ll get back to Michael, in a minute, but, you are pressing charging against that dick aren’t you? I mean, shoot, I knew he was bad, but I never dreamed he’d be physical with you. He has to pay for what he’s done. You have to go back to Tennessee and press charges.”

  “Shhh, not so loud. Do you want Walker knowing about this? He will lose his shit. As far as charges, I’m not sure that’s the route I want to take. He has another kid on the way and if I send him to jail, financially, where does that leave his family?” At the look of objection on Erika’s face, Tori silenced her with a hand in the air. “Don’t worry, I will not let him get away with it. His wife needs to know how dangerous he is and that she has an STD at the very least, but I am trying to find a way to get that information to her without her having to come face to face with her husband’s mistress. Maybe I can get Michael to talk to her. She shouldn’t have to face me when her life is turned upside down, you know?”

  “I can’t say I agree, but not my call. As far as Michael goes, I’m happy for you Tori, I really am, just use my experience as your own. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Talk. Speak up if there is something you need to say. Don’t let him intimidate you into silence by brooding, but don’t take any crap either. Don’t spend so much time giving the benefit that you miss the big picture though, like you did with The Dick. I will say, he sounds amazingly hot.”

  Their eyes turned to the imposing figure that entered the room and planted himself right smack between them.

  “Who sounds hot?” Walker asked as he kissed first his sister’s cheek, then his wife’s.

  “Michael Brande, musician and pilot extraordinaire.” Erika said with over the top flair. “And from what I hear he has an amazing co…”

  “ERIKA. Geez, you are worse than Mel with no filter.”

  Walker stiffened and his face took on a familiar set. “So, sis, what’s the middle name of this Brande guy and what is your relationship?”

  “Relax, little brother, I can take care of myself, he’s a good guy, nothing like Richard. And if you must know, it’s Illanipi—it’s native for amazing or amazing man, which he is. I am hoping it leads somewhere once he gets back and takes care of some personal stuff.”

  “Shit, Tori, again? Man, you sure can pick ‘em.” Her brother leapt up with such force, it moved the couch. He grabbed the paper off the counter and furiously thumbed through the pages, finally thrusting the one he zeroed in on in her face. “Personal stuff is right. I don’t know where you think it can lead with his wedding on the horizon.”

  Her entire being was freezing solid as she read the wedding announcement for the man she loved. To Tonya, the woman he said had earned the designator of ex when he found her cheating. Tori’s definition of ex and Michael’s were obviously not the same.

  Tori barely noticed Erika struggling to jump up from the couch and confront Walker. “Wait just a minute, Walker, we don’t know the story, and we can’t condemn him when he isn’t even here to defend himself.”

  “How can you say that? It’s right there in black and white. That’s pretty damning.”

  “Like me being married was?” Tori only partially paid attention to the people in the room, most of her focus was on the paper, but she recognized Erika’s, victory-is-mine, tone.

  “That was different, babe, it wasn’t like that…”

  “Exactly, it wasn’t what it seemed, but you wouldn’t hear my explanation and I was too scared to force the issue and it cost us dearly. Why would we want to encourage that kind of loss for Tori? She needs to look him in the eye, speak to him, and listen to what he has to say. Your mother taught me that. Then, if it is what it seems, I’ll kick his backside right across the county line myself.”

  “You’re right, babe, but I don’t want her to be in another relationship like she was. After everything I’ve been through because of hidden marriages, I…”

  “Walker, honey, are you still holding on to that? I thought since you and Andy made peace, you moved past it. How can we get on with our lives, if you’re still holding on to that in some way?” Tori heard her friend sobbing softly, but she still couldn’t tear her eyes from Michael’s name in print.

  “Shit, babe, no, not that. I should’ve explained long before now, but do you have any idea why I was really in prison?”

  “Not specific details, but I know it was assault.”

  “It was more than that. I was young and I thought I was in love. We had been together for a few months. One night, I stayed over, that wasn’t the usual, but we’d both had too much to drink. I passed out with my boots still on.” Tori stopped staring at the paper long enough to gauge her brother’s voice. This was the first time she’d heard him retell the story since it all happened and he testified. Not sure what to expect, she divided her attention between her confused heart and her brother’s exposed past.

  “Next thing I know, there’s a man in the room, screaming and waving a knife around. The woman I was with was yelling at me to stop him, he was yelling at her, I was yelling at him. Everyone was fucking yelling. It was a clusterfuck. My head was still pounding from drinking all night, and she kept telling me he was an intruder, she didn’t know him and he was going to kill us. When I heard the fear in her voice, I knocked the knife away and starting pounding the Hell out of him. I was so enraged that he would threaten us like that, threaten her. I just wanted to protect her. I didn’t stop until the police pulled me off him and arrested me.”

  It was draining Walker to tell the story, but Tori thought it had more to do with who he was telling it to than the actual memory. It appeared he had really dealt with his past, his fists weren’t clenched, and he wasn’t ballistic about it anymore, it seemed. Augusta deserves a fucking medal then, because she did this. Tori understood the depth of Erika’s desire to have a relationship with her now, Hell, Tori also felt that need.

  “Anyway, long story short. He was her husband. She testified against me, said I was the intruder. She and her husband were sleeping and I broke in and attacked him when he confronted me. So, ever since the judge banged the gavel, I haven’t looked at fidelity the same way. I know I’m over the top with it, but that secret changed my life. Took years away from my family, myself.”

  Walker turned to Tori, and she could see the dilemma traverse his face and leave agony in its wake, agony for her. “I’m sorry, Tor, I tried with Richard, but I can’t sit back and watch this again. I want better for you, you’re my big sister.”

  Erika captured his attention before Tori could respond. “I love you, Walker, more than life itself, and I’m humbled you finally shared that story with me, and it explains so much. But, you don’t get to vote on your sister’s life choices, it’s her life, and we need to support her.”

  Tori finally got over the shock of the paper and her brother’s retelling of a dark time and stood on shaky legs. “You two are sweet to be so concerned, but really, I’m good. I agree, there has to be an explanation. It’s either a mistake or it’s not, but I will hear it from him when he gets back. I know they were engaged once, so maybe some wires got crossed and the announcement got printed erroneously. That, or he simply wasn’t honest with me. Either way, no worries, little brother, I will not be with another married man, no matter his definition of marriage.”

  She gathered her stuff, hugged her best friend and her brother, said her goodbyes to her niece, and loaded Sixx and Mars into her Jeep.

  The drive home was uneventful, thankfully, because Tori was on autopilot. After a long, hot shower and some reflection, she decided to heed her mother’s advice and not borrow trouble. For now, she would accept what Michael had said as the truth unless something definitive changed that.

  Fresh from the shower, with a positive outlook, and a need to help, she called Dr. Beckett to give him a heads-up about Michael, but the number was out of service. How does that even happen in this uber-connected age? Calling around, she found his new number. Not only had he changed services, he had changed everything,
including location. There was a new crisis center opening up soon and he joined them.

  Tori had to do something, she wasn’t one to sit around, plus she was kind of freaking out.

  She couldn’t occupy herself with work, because there was nothing to be done sitting here. Knowing Michael could get the information on Dr. Beckett’s change himself wasn’t enough to keep her from searching out Michael’s home address. She needed to connect to him somehow, so she decided she would go by and slip the information under his door. That way, when he got back, he would not only have what he needed, it would be an indicator that she was waiting for him and would be there when the time was right.

  The drive over gave her time to think, waffle back and forth, really. Knowing what little she knew about Michael, Tonya, and their relationship, was enough to decide the announcement was most likely pre-scheduled and Michael or Tonya forgot to cancel it before his trip.

  Making her way to his door was surreal. She could almost feel him haunting the place. Standing in front of it, she inhaled deeply, and swore she could smell him. This is exactly what she needed, a connection. After she slipped the note under the door, she laid her open palm against the cool surface and it settled her restless soul. She dropped her hand and turned to walk away. As soon as her back was to the medieval-styled door, she heard it open.

  Everything from that moment on happened in painfully-slow motion. Turning back toward the sound, she saw a woman rising with the note in her hand. Clad in a short satin robe and heels, the woman struck her as over the top, sensual. Her hair was up in a bun with wet tendrils clinging to her face. Tori would’ve thought her fresh from bathing, except her face was made up like she was heading to a nightclub and she had on an ass-ton of costume jewelry.

  When she brought her empty hand to her chest to tug the sides of her robe over her obviously-siliconed boobs, her blood-red nail arrowed Tori’s attention to a love bite on the front of her neck. Who the Hell over sixteen still gets hickeys? God, this woman is a cartoon character, like Jessica Rabbit or something.

  “Can I help you?” Even her voice was pitched to entice. This woman was walking, talking sex. Good thing she came out, or Tori wouldn’t have realized she had the wrong place.

  Tori approached and extended her hand to take back the note and, somehow, found her voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong place. I was leaving a note for Michael Brande. Could you point me in the right direction?” The woman didn’t relinquish the note.

  “This is the right direction, honey, but Michael’s not here right now.”

  Trying to sort through the new information flooding her brain, Tori’s mouth went on autopilot.

  “I know he’s not here, he’s in Tennessee. I just wanted him to have that information when he got back. I should be going.” Tori needed to retreat so she could think. There was a woman in Michael’s house, and she appeared to have made herself at home. Tori wondered if this was Tonya. The description fit, which means not only was this woman cheating on Michael, she was squatting in his place. Tori’s mind started to wonder if she was in there with Michael’s best friend, having sex in his bed while he was gone. That would devastate Michael.

  As if this woman’s presence wasn’t enough, she pierced Tori’s heart as true as a crossbow bolt with her words.

  “Oh, he’s not in Tennessee anymore, he surprised me when he came home last night.” She drew a long nail slowly down her throat to the valley of her cleavage, drawing Tori’s attention once more to the evidence of her recent sexual activity. “He’s just not home right now. However, if you need to see him, he’s preforming the rest of the week at the Moldy Dog. You can join the other groupies vying for his attention.” When the door shut, Tori jumped at the gunshot sound it made in her head.

  Michael is here, not in Tennessee. Wedding announcement. Half naked woman in his place, with a hickey. Michael. Home last night. Silicone Barbie. Hickey. Performing.

  Random, disjointed words just kept flying through her brain like the wicked witch’s monkeys as she stared at the iron rivets on the door. How could she have been so wrong about Michael? Was she only good enough to be some man’s side chick? At this point, that seemed to be her destiny.

  She had been willing to wait for him to get his shit together, because she had convinced herself he was the one—the father of her children, the man she would grow old with. But it wasn’t meant to be. Torionna Krystle-Carrington Reid wasn’t meant to get the happily-ever-after. This wasn’t a movie where the credits would role as she kissed her hero and the screen faded to black.

  Her world simply faded, no kiss, no credits, just black.

  Michael spent a few days getting some things in order, but he started singing nights immediately. No playing guitar for the crowd yet, but singing was still good for him. Music had always helped ground him, and he honestly needed that in his life right now.

  It took a few calls to get an appointment with Dr. Beckett, apparently the man had moved his practice around. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach when the doc said he knew a bit about him and was expecting his call in a few weeks. It meant Tori had practically ran to give the doc a heads-up. She said she would, but Michael hadn’t expected her to have done it already. To him, it meant she cared deeply.

  He couldn’t wait to surprise her. Already, he’d looked up her address and had driven by her place to see where she lived, but mostly to feel close to her. The waiting was killing him, but he wanted to be free of some of the baggage first.

  The lawyers were cutting a check and getting the paperwork together. Two days and he could get Tonya out of his house. After that first night, he’d been staying at a hotel, not wanting a repeat of what transpired, nor did he want to have to dodge her attempts at seducing him. It had taken on a new level the next morning after he laid down that law that night.

  John flew his sister in from Tennessee for an informal dinner tonight, to discuss some things before he files charges. Tomorrow was his first sit down with Dr. Beckett, and the day after, Tonya would have her check and be gone. Plus, he had a movie style I-Love-You planned for Tori she’d never forget. How else do you tell a movie buff that you want to marry her?

  Things were looking up for him and he couldn’t be happier. Michael grabbed his keys and headed out to meet with John and Stacy.

  As the first to arrive, he ordered coffee and was munching on complimentary bread when his attention was diverted to the door. John entered with a woman on his arm who commanded undivided attention. Her presence was in direct conflict with her petite frame. She was all of five-four in three-inch spikes and maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet, yet her confidence took up every inch of unoccupied space in the entire restaurant.

  Every diner, male and female, turned and watched her approach. Michael rose and pulled out a chair for her. With magnetic charisma, she had a fire in her that promised fierce loyalty, or enmity; depending on which side you landed on. Michael reached out to guide her to her seat, expecting his hand to come back scorched, but instead of taking her seat, she turned the all-business glamour off and launched into his arms like a long-lost friend.

  Too stunned to do anything but return the embrace, Michael threw a puzzled look at John over her blonde head. “Well, it seems a little superfluous now, but Michael, this is my sister Stacy; Stacy, this is Michael.”

  As Stacy pulled away, Michael felt a kind of a loss. That hug was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was as if she wanted to share the source of her fire with him through an embrace. With her hands still on his arms, she looked up at him with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, but John’s told me so much about you, I feel I know you already, and you reminded me a little of Troy standing there. He would be about your age now.”

  A silence overcame them at the mention of Troy, but they shook it off. “I’m starving and I want to get to know you better, so let’s order, shall we?” Stacy asked with such professionalism before she took her seat and grabbed the l
aminated specials menu. John and Michael were still standing when she looked up at them like they were morons and motioned them to take their seats. Both men complied immediately. Michael was still in shock from her record-setting demeanor change. She went from obviously-emotional to courtroom-stoic in point two seconds.

  No wonder this woman had such a commanding air, she controlled the very charge of the surrounding atmosphere with a flick of her hand and arch of a brow. Boy was he glad she would be on his side, because he knew he would wilt under her gaze if that was her desire.

  They made small talk over dinner, each sharing quite a bit about themselves. Michael was grateful for the privacy their corner table offered and that the dinner rush was over. As soon as dessert was a memory, marked by a few crumbs on small plates, Stacy turned to him with sky-blue eyes filled with compassion and started asking the tough questions.

  “Michael, I know how difficult this is for you, but I will need your total honesty. Even when you think it hurts your claim of what happened, I still need it, okay?” She set her phone to record and listened to every syllable intently. She started to cry, and Michael was sure when John reached a comforting hand to hers, he was in the same state. He’d shared the highlights with John, but not in this descriptive and emotional detail. The hurt Michael saw in their eyes wasn’t just for him, but for Troy, too.

  There was a point in his retelling when he saw that shift in Stacy—that shift from concerned friend or even sister, reliving Troy’s own experience, to I’m-going-to-bury-her-ass lawyer. If anyone would see justice done, it would be her.

  “Well, the bad news is, there is a 95% chance that the DA will not prosecute. I will contact them after the charges land on their desk and see if I can persuade them to move forward, but I highly doubt it, I’m sorry. But the good news, I can and will file a civil suit, and we have a chance at seeing some justice come to you that way.”