I sigh. “We are. I hope you don’t have too much trouble finding
someone else.”
I pivot and follow Jake into the parking lot.
This time, I don’t look back.
Chapter 6
Angry Girls Don't Bounce
I am jolted out of a fitful sleep by a loud banging on the front door
and the grating sounds of heavy equipment. My clock flashes eight
o’clock. Who the hell gets up at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning?
By the time I find my bathrobe and stumble down the hallway, my
housemates are already in the foyer.
“What’s going on?”
Rob hands me an official-looking piece of paper. “We have a
new landlord, a company called Legacy Holdings. They’re renovating
the property starting today. They’ve arranged for us to move to the
Sunset View Apartments on Lake Merritt while the renovations are
being done.”
Jennifer staggers back against the wall and slaps a hand to her chest.
“No way. Those apartments are insanely expensive. I went out with a
guy who rented there. He lived on the twenty-fourth floor. The views
over the Bay are amazing. They have a doorman, a fitness center, and
a sauna.”
Doormen and saunas sound expensive. “Do we have to pay
more rent?”
Rob reads the rest of the document. “Nothing changes. We pay
the same rent. And they are splurging for three apartments on the same
floor. Carlos and I are in one. Jennifer and Ashley are in the other, and
you get your own place.”
“Seriously? My own apartment?”
Rob hands me the papers and I skim over the boring legal bits and
dive straight into the important stuff. Yup. My very own apartment,
fully furnished, and my rent doesn’t change. Not only are they putting
us up during the renovations, they are sending a moving truck for our
personal stuff today at noon.
Too bad this didn’t happen a day earlier and Torment could have
seen me living in style. But I will not think about Torment. I will not
remember the feel of his soft warm lips as they sucked ice cream off my
finger. I will not remember his chiseled pecs or his smoldering eyes…
or the deep rumble of his voice…or the feel of his hard body pressed up
against mine…or the way my core tightens when he touches me. He is
gone. Forgotten. I have already moved on.
Dr. Drake is easy on the eye. He has a nice smile. Nice body. Very
nice teeth. Not much in the way of a dangerous persona, but he seems
to like me.
I will have lunch with him on Monday.
I hope he likes picnics.
Nine hours later, my first housewarming party is in full swing. My luxu-
riously furnished, one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor of
the Sunset View Apartments buzzes with activity. While Jennifer and
Carlos mix cocktails with their friends in the high-end kitchen, I grab
another glass of champagne from the bar and head over to the balcony
to catch up with Amanda.
My path takes me through the random assortment of boyfriends,
girlfriends, friends-with-benefits, and soon-to-be one night stands,
clustered in the center of my open space living area. A pang of lone-
liness grips me. Why am I always single at parties—the best friend,
housemate, filler, or stand-in? Why am I never the one making out in
the bedroom or chatting to the guests as my boyfriend slings a casual
arm over my shoulder and whispers sweet nothings into my ear? What’s
wrong with me?
“So, what happened with Torment?” As always, Amanda gets
straight to the point. I lean over the railing, soaking up the view of San
Francisco Bay, and steel myself for her interrogation.
She pokes me in the side when I am not immediately forthcoming
with information.
“I thought I’d finally get the ‘don’t call me in the morning’ text after
you texted me about your afternoon picnic and your motorcycle ride.”
A warm breeze ruffles my hair bringing with it the fresh scent of
the ocean and an unwanted memory of my cheek pressed up against
Torment’s jacket when we raced around the bay on his Agusta.
“You must have missed the text where I said he just wanted me to
work.” My third—or is it my fourth?—glass of champagne is a little
too sweet and a little too fruity, but I gulp it down just the same. Some
nights call for a little extra indulgence, and this is one of them.
Amanda’s laugh tinkles in the still of the night. “I didn’t believe it.
I saw the way he watched you when we left the club last week. When
you told me he tracked you down at the hospital with a picnic in tow, I
knew he was into you.”
“Well, your instincts were wrong this time,” I snap. “He has a girl-
friend. That over-processed blonde who was prancing around in pink
Latex. I call her Pinkaluscious.”
Amanda snorts champagne through her nose. “Catty. Not like
you—which tells me you like him.”
I shake my head. “He isn’t really my type. Too violent. Too rough.
Too dangerous. He probably hangs out with unsavory biker dudes. I’m
better off sticking with my usual.”
“Bland.”
“What do you mean by that?” I take another sip of champagne.
Gah. I’ll have to switch to something harder—something to numb my
brain and erase all my memories of yesterday.
“The only guys you ever go out with are boring, dull, and safe.
The kind of guys parents love. Ryan? Yawn. Phil? Dull as ditch water.
Mike? He was so innocuous I can’t even remember his face.” Even your
friend Charlie, who you had the sense not to date, is the same. Nice
and dull.”
“They’re the only ones who ask me out.” I stare out into the night.
Lake Merritt glimmers below us—an inky black stain surrounded by
twinkling lights. So pretty. If I owned a place like this, I would spend all
my time just looking at the view.
“Not true.” Amanda raps my knuckles with her finger. “You forget
we’ve been friends since we were four. I’ve seen the guys you lust after,
but the minute they express any interest you run away. Remember
Timmy Jones?”
“He put a dead frog in my lunch box.”
“Jack from high school?”
“He set my locker on fire.”
“How about Dan from first-year biology?”
“He tried to turn me into an anarchist and start a revolution.” I
turn to face her. “And Timmy doesn’t count. We were in first grade.”
Amanda sighs. “My point is, the edgy, dangerous guys you
liked all wanted to ask you out, but you ran away before they got
a chance.”
My fingers curl around the cold, iron railing. “Well this time
I got blindsided by a pink Barbie doll. Just leave it. I don’t need
to be psychoanalyzed. And it doesn’t matter. I’m having lunch with
Doctor Drake on Monday, and he’s definitely not bland—well, at
least not physically.”
“I thought you said he touched you inappropriately.”
“It wasn’t so much inappropriate as it was…protective.” I graciously
give Dr. Drake the benefit of the doubt.
“Protective or possessive?”
“Doctor Drake doesn’t want to possess me.” I fold my arms and
give her my best scowl.
“Not since he lost the pissing contest.”
“What pissing contest?” Amanda always forgets her experience with
men vastly exceeds my own. Vastly with a capital V.
Amanda rolls her eyes. “The one you told me about. Torment
and Doctor Drake, sniffing each other out, trying to establish who
was top dog.”
“It wasn’t like that. It was just about lunch. And it wasn’t really
a contest—”
“I don’t imagine it would have been,” she interjects. “Torment is
as alpha as they come. Drake probably ran off with his tail between
his legs.”
“Doctor Drake was just being friendly. Charlie says he likes me.
He’ll be good for me. Everyone thinks he’s gorgeous. He’s you, but
a man.”
“Mmm.” Amanda twists her lips. “Then he’ll be amazing in bed.”
“Who’s amazing in bed?” Jake comes up behind Amanda, wraps his
arms around her waist, and nuzzles her neck.
Sigh.
“You are, baby.” She grins and wiggles her ass against him.
Jake whispers in her ear and Amanda blushes. For all her feigned
indifference, she really likes him. More than any other guy I’ve seen her
with. Much more.
“Makayla was asking me about Torment,” Amanda says. “Help her
out and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Amanda!”
She gives me a wink and turns in Jake’s arms, planting little kisses
along his jaw.
“What do you want to know?” He squeezes her ass and she squeals.
“Name, rank, and serial number,” Amanda murmurs against his
lips. “Current girlfriend. Day job. Gossip. That will do for a start.”
Jake moans. “No can do. He’s an intensely private person. If he
found out I had spilled his secrets he would kick me out. Privacy is such
a big thing to him, he set up Redemption as an invitation-only club.
Even the spectators are screened. They have to have a connection with
someone in the club and they have to sign a nondisclosure statement
before they are put on the list to receive texts about the events. And it
works. Most people don’t even realize he has a real job. They think he
works at the club full time. “
Amanda’s eyes narrow. “He has a secret identity?”
Jake shakes his head and swallows. “I didn’t say that. Pretend I
didn’t say that.”
“And you know who he is?”
He looks at the floor and shuffles his feet.
Poor guy. She will stop at nothing to get that information from
him. He does not even understand the hunger of the beast he has un-
leashed. He’ll be lucky to escape with his tongue intact.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I almost trip over my
feet to get away from them. I step back into the apartment, and check
my texts. Torment’s name shows up on my Caller ID. Unable to resist,
I open the message.
....
I need you at the club tonight
.....
Ha. I’m sure you do. And that’s all you want from me. I quickly type a response:
.....
No. Sorry. Busy
What are you doing?
I’m having a party **dances** **drinks**
Without me?
Don’t even think about guilt-tripping me. My thumb wavers as I type. I’ve definitely
had enough to drink.
U have club things 2 do. Like hurting people
Is the doctor at ur party?
.....
My eyes widen. Is he jealous? Why? He has Pinkaluscious. Why does he
care if Dr. Drake is at my party? Should I lie and say yes?
“Sorry, Mac. Jake wouldn’t tell me anything.” Amanda joins me in
the living room and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
Just what I need. An expert. I hand her the phone.
Amanda reads the messages and gives me a curious, sideways glance.
“Mention the girlfriend.”
“Why?”
She laughs. “Just a hunch. Work the girlfriend into the conversa-
tion. I’ll bet he shows up at your door in less than half an hour.”
Amanda has never let me down, especially when it comes to men.
Trusting her instincts, I send my text.
.....
No doctor here. Just me and friends and lots of drinks
I want to see lots-of-drinks-Makayla. Come to the club
2 much violence
I have ice cream
.....
My hands shake, and a giggle erupts from my chest. Maybe if I wasn’t
so drunk I would find him less amusing.
....
Give it 2 Pinkaluscious
Who?
Your girlfriend **frowns**
....
After waiting five minutes for him to respond, I hand the phone to
Amanda and let her read the new texts. She tells me not to text him
again. For the next ten minutes, I conduct tests on my phone to ensure
it is still working by forcing everyone at the party to text me. Another
ten minutes pass by and I finally give up. He isn’t going to respond. And
why would he? If it was a game, he knows he’s been found out.
“Someone hit me over the head the next time I express any interest
in a man.” I throw myself into the black, leather chair beside Rob and
steal his bowl of calorie- and fat-laden chips.
Rob laughs and reaches behind him to turn up the music on the
insanely expensive sound system that comes with the apartment. “With
pleasure, darling.”
Half an hour and an entire bowl of chips later, the low-pitched,
high decibel rumble of a motorcycle from the street below cuts through
Gotye’s sad, and highly appropriate, “Somebody That I Used To
Know.” A pathetic hope unfurls in my belly, and I immediately quash it
down. He has a girlfriend. Why would he come looking for me?
A light breeze blows across the balcony and through the open
windows, ruffling my hair. Gotye’s voice warbles behind me, and I
imagine the motorcycle’s engine quiets to a soft, steady, low rumble. Or
is it my imagination? My heartbeat quickens. Self-destructive curiosity
claws its way through my belly.
Cursing myself for my stupidity, I leave Rob and step onto the
balcony. Amanda and Jake are entwined in the corner. Taking a deep
breath, I clutch the railing and look at the street below.
Oh. My. God. I know that motorcycle. And I know that tall, pow-
erfully lean, mouthwateringly tight body dismounting the seat.
For a moment, I can only stare. Stunned.
“Amanda,” I gasp. “It’s him. Torment is outside.” A huge grin
spreads across my face and I suck in a breath. He’s here. He’s here.
Amanda detaches herself from Jake and frowns. “How did he know
your new address?”
“Rob put a sign on the door at my old place.” I narrow my eyes.
“You knew he would go there and find it empty.”
Amanda shrugs. “I thought he deserved it, after what he did to you.
I didn’t know about Rob’s sign.”
My lips tighten into a thin line. “I’m
going to call the doorman,
and tell him to send Torment up.”
“Don’t let him in,” Amanda snaps. “You told him no. He came
anyway. Men like that need boundaries. If you don’t set them at the
beginning, he will never know where the boundaries are and he’ll walk
all over you. It takes a very strong person to build them in the middle
of a relationship. If he’s interested, he’ll ditch the girlfriend and come
looking for you. I guarantee it.”
“Maybe he just needs someone to handle first aid tonight,” I say.
“Stop biting your nails.” Amanda slaps my hand away from my
mouth. “And stop bouncing. I thought you were angry with him. Angry
girls don’t bounce.”
But excited girls do. And what is more exciting than being
hunted down by a devastatingly handsome tattooed fighter with a
heartwarming laugh?
Amanda studies me and sighs. “Even if it is about work, my previ-
ous advice stands. Don’t let the two-timing bastard in.”
Jake strokes his hand down her hair. “I don’t think that’s good
advice. I know Torment. If he had a girlfriend—and I think I would
have heard about it—he wouldn’t be here. He’s not that kind of guy.”
He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You saw him at the club,
Makayla. What do you think?”
“I think I’m confused.” I lean over the railing. The night is still and
quiet again. Torment has removed his helmet and is looking up at my
balcony, but from this distance I cannot see his face. Can he see me?
For the longest time he looks up and I look down. Finally, he scrubs his
hand through his hair, and then his body stills. He sees me.
HE SEES ME!
Using my fancy new intercom, and despite Amanda’s protests, I
ring down to the doorman and tell him to send Torment to my apart-
ment. Five minutes later, Torment crosses my threshold, his leather
creaking with every step.
The room freezes. Every conversation stops. The last few notes of
Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” linger in the air. Amanda
detaches herself from Jake’s arms, stomps across the room, and stands
in front of me.
“Torment.” She crosses her arms. I don’t have to see her face to
know she has shot him with her best don’t-mess-with-my-friend glare.
“Amanda.”
Tension hangs in the air between them, and the skin on the back
Against the Ropes Page 8
