by L A Cotton
I gritted my teeth and my hand curled into a fist on my lap. “How did you and he …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The words got stuck in my throat, and I swallowed thickly. I knew the second she saw the hurt in my eyes because it was reflected in hers.
“I had only ever thought of him as a friend, but I felt abandoned by you.” She shrugged. “First time it happened, I was buzzed. Not totally wasted, but … enough that when he kissed me, I didn’t stop it. I was so lonely.” Her sob cut off her words, and she needed a moment to stem the flood of tears. “And he was sympathetic and I missed you and he understood. It felt nice to have someone hold me again, and even though I wished it was you holding me, I gave into it.”
She pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes and wiped away her tears. “It got so I had to be on something to be with him.” Tears were flowing freer now, her breathing hitched as she struggled to catch her breath. With her eyes closed and her lips pressed together in a tight line, I saw how she was struggling with this.
“Joy,” I started, my voice soft, but at the sharp shake of her head, I shut up and let her continue uninterrupted.
“I’ve done things, Dawson, things I’m not proud of. Things Donnie made me …” She trailed off and took another deep breath. “Anything he wanted to avoid his wrath.”
Revulsion washed over me as my imagination ran away with me and I pictured things I never wanted to see. Silence followed until I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, but my stomach churned with jealousy, anger, and the need to do someone serious damage. I could never undo what had happened or get the time back. Instead, I needed to suck it up and move on. Preferably with Joy. “What happened after Shakers?” I was almost too scared to ask, but I needed to know everything.
“He lost it. No one stands up to him, touches what’s his, Dawson.”
Guilt weighed heavily in the pit of my stomach. I focused on the bruising around her cheek, all this because of me. Getting sent down, then not coming back for her after all my promises, and now, this. All of it was my fault.
Standing, I pried the mug out of Joy’s grip, set it on the side table along with my own, and sat next to her. She raised her head a fraction and the sight of her tear-stained cheeks and fading bruise was too much for me. I lifted her off the sofa and onto my lap. Her body tensed, but when I wrapped my arms around her, she finally relaxed. If anything, she curled into a tighter ball and I rested my chin on top of her head, letting her sob into my chest. My hand swept up and down her back in a slow, soothing motion, enjoying the feel of her in my arms.
When Joy was all cried out, she shifted, and I leaned back as she raised her head to watch me. Dark eyes searched mine. Unsure what she was looking for, I let her see it all, everything I was feeling. The concern I had for her, the regret for not coming back when I promised I would, and most of all, the love I still felt for her. It was the most important thing I wanted her to see. At her small intake of breath, I knew she’d caught it.
“Why didn’t you come back? I waited.” Another sob escaped and a lone tear slid down her cheek. When she made no move to wipe it away, I reached out and brushed my thumb across her cheekbone. The palm of my hand cupped her face, and I held it so she could see how sorry I was.
“My dad came to visit me. The only time he came to see me,” I added with more than a slight trace of bitterness. “He said it was best if I stayed away, for everyone. There was nothing left for me in Chancing especially since you had gotten as far away as you could. I thought you were away living your life how you were supposed to be. Donnie never visited or contacted me, which stung. Mom had Mikey, so when Dad told me to stay away, I believed I was doing the best thing.” As my words sunk in, she nodded her understanding, biting her lip before she looked away. When she met my eyes again, I saw the fear in them again.
“You can’t be here, Dawson. If he catches you …” She trailed off, looking at me with uncertainty while I clenched and unclenched my jaw.
“He won’t do shit,” I growled. “I won’t let him and that …” I motioned to the bruising on her face, “is the last time he lays a finger on you.” My eyes narrowed and she jerked backward at the seriousness of my expression.
She stiffened in my arms. “And what are you going to do about it? Go after him? Teach him a lesson? Then what? You leave and I’ll be left picking up the pieces …” It wasn’t necessary for her to add ‘again,’ because we both knew it was there. Anger flashed in her eyes as she pushed against my chest ready to climb off my lap, but my grip on her tightened, like a steel cage around her.
“I’m not leaving you again, Joy.” I tugged her closer because I was done wasting time. I felt a second of resistance but when my hand run up her back, she relaxed into my touch. Green eyes alternated between looking deep into me and staring at my lips. With tentative movements, Joy’s hand moved upwards from my chest to my shoulder. Her breath quickened and when she bit down on her bottom lip… fuck, I wanted to kiss her, badly, but I remained still and let her continue. With increased confidence, she reached for me, two fingers trailed along my jawline.
My heart hammered in my chest, ready to burst out, but I hardly dared to breathe and risk breaking her trance. Under her touch, my skin tingled, and my dick stirred underneath her ass, but she continued with her unhurried explorations. I was content to sit back and let Joy take the lead. The soft pad of her index finger had followed the outline of my lips before both hands threaded through my hair and she leaned forward, bringing her lips within inches of mine. I couldn’t wait any longer; I needed to feel her lips against mine, needed to taste her and kiss her. Without a second thought, my lips crashed into hers. My hand moved to the back of her head, fisted in her hair, and held her there with a steel grip. I felt her surrender as she gave herself up to me, and when I ran my tongue over the seam of her lips, they parted immediately and willingly gave me entry.
Our tongues tangled with each other as she shifted on my lap so her legs landed on either side of my thighs to straddle me. The hard ridge of my dick pressed into her, but I was past caring. I wanted her to know exactly how I felt about her, what she did to me—even after all this time and distance and whatever other shit had gone on between us. She was still it for me, and there was no way in hell I was letting anyone, least of all my former best friend, get in the way of that. The heat radiating from between her legs drove me crazy with need. It was more than need or want; I loved her. I had to figure this shit out.
“We’re working on something, but I’m not leaving you. Whatever was going on with you and Donnie is over. You are still mine, Joy.” I surged upwards, claiming her lips again as she nodded her agreement.
“I’m still yours, Dawson. I always was.”
What have I done?
As I stared down at the face I’d once longed to see again—the face I’d wanted so desperately to save me from my desperate situation—guilt coiled around my heart so tightly I thought I might stop breathing.
“Joy? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I …” My voice cracked. This was all I’d wanted for so long it had become a dream, a fantasy I lost myself in whenever things got too much. “I, we … we can’t do this, Dawson. If he finds out you were here, things will end badly, and I couldn’t live with myself if something-”
Dawson cradled me against him as more sobs wracked through me. “Shh, you don’t need to worry about me.” Warmth spread through my hair as Dawson’s words attempted to reassure me.
But they didn’t. Because Donnie wasn’t the same guy Dawson knew from high school. Three years had changed him. Molded him into a monster. And although I could see that time had also changed Dawson, I doubted he was capable of the same things as his old friend.
“I meant what I said.” Dawson coaxed me out of the comfort of his shoulder and tilted my head down to him. “I won’t let him touch you again, Joy. You just need to trust me.”
He looked ready to kiss me a
gain, but his lips, the taste of him, had sent my emotions into a tailspin. There was so much to consider, to work through, and I couldn’t do that with him so close. I pressed my palms to his chest and smiled at him. “You should go.”
“Joy-”
“This isn’t me kicking you out, Dawson. I just need some time, and it really is best for everyone that no one sees you here. I can handle Donnie for now.”
He looked ready to protest, but when I rose from his lap and moved toward to door, he sighed deeply, raked a hand through his hair, and said, “Okay, I’ll go. But you call me immediately if anything happens.”
Dawson walked over to me and handed me a card from his wallet. I nodded, unable to talk over the lump in my throat. He drew me into him once more and pressed a kiss to my head. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll talk to you later.”
He pulled on a pair of sunglasses and slipped out the door. I watched from the small window until he disappeared around the corner. He was really back. Dawson Spencer—my Dawson—was back.
And I didn’t know what in the hell I was supposed to do with that.
When Sherri texted me the next morning to let me know Donnie was out of town for the day, I rushed over to her place. I needed her straight talking, no shit attitude—I needed her to help me figure out what I was going to do. The conviction in Dawson’s eyes as he promised Donnie wouldn’t lay another finger on me burned in my memory. He’d meant every word; I didn’t doubt it for a second. But no one knew Donnie DeLuca like I did. No one—not even his men—knew the depravity living inside him. He wouldn’t give me up without a fight.
“Shit, Joy, why didn’t you say anything?” Sherri scowled at me, but I ignored her and sidestepped her into the house.
“Nice to see you, too,” I grumbled.
“Now, come on, darlin’, you can’t blame a woman for caring. You look like shit.”
“I’ve been worse.”
Sherri’s eyes narrowed, and I felt her disapproval all the way down to the pit of my stomach.
“Leave it, Sher. I’m not here to fight.”
That earned a snicker. “So what does bring you here?”
“Dawson.”
“Oh, darlin’, I’ll grab a smoke and a drink, and you can tell me all about it.” Sherri disappeared into the kitchen while I took a seat on the couch. The house was quiet, but it was a weekday and most of the girls would either be sleeping after a long night at Shakers or working one of their daytime jobs.
“So …” My friend breezed back into the room. She’d tied her wild auburn curls back in a dark scarf and the jeans hugged her legs so tight she looked sewed into them. Sherri didn’t look a day over thirty, yet she was wise way beyond her years.
“I messed up …” Everything that had happened since that night at Shakers just flowed out of me. I never could hold back much around Sherri; she had a way of drawing stuff out. In many ways, she was a mother figure to most of the girls—me included.
Sherri regarded me as I twirled my hands in my lap, not sure whether I felt relief at having it all out in the open or more terrified now that it was reality. Telling someone else made it real. Too real.
“I always knew that boy would regret leaving one day. Just didn’t think it’d take this,” she flicked her chin at me, “to bring you two back together.”
“We’re not together,” I rushed out.
“Darlin’, ain’t no fooling me. I saw it the minute he laid eyes on you at the club. That boy still loves you, and I know for a fact you still have feelings for him.”
My body sagged further into the fabric. Was I really that transparent? Sure, it was Sherri, the only person who knew my whole history with Dawson and Donnie, but I thought I guarded my feelings better than that.
“Don’t look so worried. He did a real number on you, walking out of your life like that, and let’s face it, it’s the only reason you ended up with Don.” She reached over to me and laid a hand over my own. “But maybe this is your chance, Joy. To get away from Don, from Chancing.”
Could it really be that simple?
The card Dawson had left me said ‘Maverick Defense.’ Was that what he meant when he said he could protect me? Was that his line of work nowadays? Some kind of private security? Even so, Donnie wouldn’t just let me walk away. Not without a fight. And even if Dawson could hold his own, Donnie would rather see me ten feet under than watch me run off into the sunset with another man.
Biting back the tears threatening to fall, I shook my head. “He won’t just give me up, Sherri. You know him almost as well as I do. He’ll see me dead before that happens.”
I didn’t think it possible to shock Sherri Andrews, but her mouth dropped open and she gasped. “Don’t say such a thing! That’s not going to happen. Not on my watch, and certainly not on Dawson’s watch. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
Two bottles of wine later, we hadn’t figured much out. Lyla had joined us, and the three of us drank away the afternoon. At some point, the young girl Sherri had told me about—whose name I’d discovered was Arianna—had crept into the room. She didn’t look a day over sixteen, with her long golden hair and slender frame, and guilt sliced through me at the fact Donnie had brought her into this life. She was too young, and from the way she was sitting in the corner of the room mute and hugging herself tight, she was too damn innocent.
“Stop with the pity stares, Lys.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed with the constant looks she’d been throwing me ever since she arrived back at the house.
“Shit, my bad, but it looks so sore.” Lyla snatched the bottle from the table and topped off her glass. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?” I snapped catching Arianna’s eye across the room. I quickly averted my stare.
“Lys, don’t tell me a john never roughed you up?” Sherri said as if it was the most normal question in the world when all I could think through the wine haze was ‘how is this my life?’
“Well, yeah, they get grabby now and again, but I’ve never ended up looking like I went ten rounds with Tyson.”
“It’ll happen one day. Perk of the fucking job,” Sherri mumbled, and Lyla and I shared a look. Sherri didn’t talk about her past often. It was no secret she’d started just like the rest of the girls working for Donnie, only she’d worked for his uncle, Franco. Thinking someone as tough as her ever ended up at the hands of someone like Donnie made me uneasy.
Clearly uncomfortable with the tension, Sherri leaped up from the couch and dusted herself off. “You know what we need, a little smoke. I’ll be right back. Ari, you need anything, darl?”
The young girl shook her head as she smoothed down a stray lock of hair. As soon as Sherri disappeared, Lyla whispered, “Sorry about earlier. I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”
I nodded stiffly casting Ari another sideways glance.
“It was Donnie, right? He did this to you?”
I grimaced not wanting Arianna to hear this.
“Stupid question. Sorry. Listen, Joy, you-”
Sherri burst back into the room her hands full of papers and a small tin. “While the boss is away, the girls can play.”
As Sherri kneeled by the coffee table and started to prepare the joints, a seed of guilt began to take root in my stomach. What would Dawson think of me right now, at this moment? Okay, it was just a bit of weed, but he knew about the pills, the coke. He’d seen the aftermath. And then there was Ari. What did she make of all this? She must have been terrified.
“Joy, you want?” Sherri offered me the joint, frowning when she noticed my hesitation. “Everything okay? You look like you might puke any second.”
And then I pictured Donnie returning to find out about Dawson visiting my apartment. The rage etched into his face. His fists connecting with my skin.
“Fine.” I forced a smile and took the joint from her, bringing it to my lips and lighting it. The high wouldn’t be enough to forget, or even numb me, but it might curb the darkness inside me—the hunger for somethi
ng stronger. But as soon as I inhaled a lungful of smoke, I knew it wasn’t going to be enough. As long as Donnie was buried in my mind, so too was the craving. The two came hand in hand, and I didn’t know how to escape one without the other.
I didn’t know anything anymore.
Sometime around six, Lyla left us to get ready for her shift at Shakers. Ari had long retired to her room. She didn’t move from her seat the whole time she was downstairs with us; the girl was already traumatized, and she hadn’t officially started working for Donnie yet, not in the ways that counted.
Sherri had been watching me like a hawk, so I eventually closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, unable to bear seeing her concern any longer. After I ‘woke,’ she was busy with paperwork at the kitchen table, so I made myself comfortable on the couch and switched on the television to try to shake off the thick head. So absorbed in the moving images on the screen, I almost missed the buzz of my cell phone. Dread filled my stomach but a fluttering quickly replaced it when I scanned the message.
Is everything okay?
Dawson
I typed a short reply letting him know I was okay. For now. I didn’t need him doing anything rash. What I needed was time to figure stuff out without him charging in all guns blazing.
“I take it that wasn’t Donnie?” Sherri joined me in the living area.
“Dawson just checking in.”
“That’s real sweet, but I have some bad news.” The dread from only seconds earlier slammed back into me. “Donnie’s back and he wants us at the club. He’s sending Troy.”
