Made for Breaking (The Russells Book 1)

by Lauren Gilley

  With her free hand, she reached and cupped her breast, lifting and kneading it, tight nipple thrusting forward. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on. And yet…

  She leaned down, low, hair spilling over her shoulders; her breasts landed against his chest. “You wanna trade places?” she asked.

  His answer was to jackknife off the bed and flip her over onto her back, safe within the cage of his arms. A startled laugh tore out of her throat as her head hit the pillow.

  “You – ”

  And then his hips flexed and she didn’t say anything else.

  Her body leapt against his, more than ready for his hammering rhythm. His thrusts were hard, and deep; she sank her nails in his biceps and welcomed the rush. All that easy patience of his evaporated now that he was the one in control. Hot color moved beneath his skin, along the planes of his face, as he leaned down to seal his lips to hers.

  The kiss was an assault. His tongue plunged into her mouth and his teeth scraped at her lips; and it overwhelmed her, turned the world to a blur of pure sensation behind her closed eyelids. It felt like he was searching her mouth as deeply as his cock moved inside her wet, writhing body, and the comparison, the mutual invasions, set off fresh fireworks in her bloodstream.

  When she came, it was absolutely melting, heat and light and bright white sparks surging through her, lifting her shoulders off the mattress. Their lips broke apart and she gasped…and then sighed…and then murmured a wordless thanks.

  He wasn’t done, though, and he rode her through her crescendo and beyond. His breath sawed out of his lungs, rushing against her ear.

  Lisa trailed her hands down the lean, flexing cords along his ribcage, and then lower, to the smooth dip at the small of his back, nails teasing. Limp and satiated, still rippling with aftershocks, she brought her knees up and sank her fingertips into the hard curve of his ass, tilting her hips, urging him deeper, taking him in further. His next thrust moved all the way through her; she felt it in her stomach and chest and at the base of her throat. She gasped again, stunned anew by how strong he was. He –

  “Jesus,” he hissed against her ear. It could have been a curse…or a prayer. And then thought left her as he came, and sent her over the edge again.

  To be chronically single, the girl had a hell of a lot of underwear. Drawers full. Drew paused in the middle of tugging on his socks to admire the view. Lisa stood with her back to him at her dresser, in nothing but lacy, leopard print panties, rifling through a neat row of bras in the top drawer. She had finger-shaped bruises on her hips. And with her hair in a ponytail, he could see the red mark he’d left on the back of her neck in the shower. She had an uneven, natural tan. He watched the play of light down her slender legs as the muscles shifted, admired the curve of her ass and the way her waist narrowed tightly just under her ribs.

  She finally picked out a black bra, slid her arms through the straps and fastened the clasp. Just that small, domestic, intimate gesture was something he’d file away in his memory, to replay later, when she’d decided he was a piece of shit after all and didn’t want anything else to do with him.

  She turned to him, a clean white tank top in one hand. “What?”

  He was still staring, he realized, and shook loose. “Nothing.” He pulled on his other sock.

  “Uh huh.” When he lifted his head, he had an eye-level, up close view of her bellybutton and the lean planes of muscle around it. The black lace waistband of her panties. “Right.” She was smiling when he glanced up at her face, green eyes bright with sunlight. “You are the furthest thing from subtle,” she said, still smiling. “Eyes popping outta your head and shit. Should I turn back around so you can stare some more?”

  “Yeah. That’d be good.”

  She laughed – it was a light, easy sound - and as it died, a softness came over her face. She set her hands on his shoulders. “You’re stupid,” she accused, and kissed his forehead.

  He curled an arm around her waist, holding her to him a moment. She still smelled faintly of soap, her skin warm and soft. He could have stayed like that, but her phone rang, and she stepped away to answer it.

  “She wants to talk to me in person.”

  Ray made a face she couldn’t see and stepped out of the garage, into the blistering sun turning the asphalt into a griddle. “You already saw her.”

  “I know,” Lisa said on the other end of the cell pressed to his ear. He could hear an engine running; she was driving. “But something’s changed her mind since then. She sounded like she was crying over the phone.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like this.”

  “Dad, you don’t like anything.”

  “You’re not alone, are you?”

  “Of course not.” She sighed. “You bought me a new guard dog, remember?”

  All too well. “Yeah, well don’t get too attached. That one’s going to the pound before this is all over.” He hung up before she could make a smart remark.

  His phone rang before he had it back in his pocket. “Damn it,” he murmured, pressing SEND and snapping it back to his ear. “What?”

  It wasn’t Lisa’s voice that greeted him.

  “Ray.”

  On the baking parking lot, he went cold all over. He knew that voice, whispering against his ear while they leaned together at the defense table in the courtroom.

  “Carl,” he greeted, his own voice hardening. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Shilling took a fast breath. “We need to meet,” he said, shakily. “As soon as you can.”

  The cold feeling grew icy. First with Danielle Britton, then with Shilling. Ray took a deep breath and smelled something nasty brewing, as pungent as ozone in a storm. “And why would I do that?”

  “You want to. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Ray barked a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Ray…I’m serious.”

  Against his better judgment, he said, “Where?”

  “Him again?” Drew asked, voice tight.

  Lisa was turning down the volume on her cell and glanced up to see who he was talking about. They were walking toward the elevators and coming toward them were Tristan and Missy Albright. Her stomach contents curdled on sight. Missy looked as beautiful as always, in dress and heels, her hair flawless. Tristan still wore the faint shadow of the bruises Drew had put on his face, and that eased some of Lisa’s insta-tension.

  “Maybe they won’t see us…”

  But they did. Missy’s brows plucked together with obvious distaste and Tristan flashed a tight, unhappy smile.

  “Keep walking,” Lisa said under her breath, and felt Drew’s hand settle at the small of her back.

  But Missy called, “First your mother and now you. Are you Russells stalking me?”

  Lisa pulled up to a halt in front of the pregnant blonde, Drew looming solid and comforting behind her. Her shoulder touched his chest; he must have been half-curled around her. The support was fortifying. She kicked her chin up. “Considering the obscene amount of detail on your Facebook page,” she said sweetly, “half the country’s probably stalking you.”

  Missy pulled a disgusted face.

  “Where’d you see my mom?”

  “Ask her yourself.” Missy flipped her hair. “Come on, Tristan.”

  Her husband slid an arm around her waist. “Don’t let her upset you,” he said with a nasty glance at Lisa. “It’s not good for your blood pressure.”

  As they walked away, Drew leaned down and said, “Don’t let them upset you; it’s not good for my hand,” in her ear and a laugh bubbled up in her throat.

  “Poor hand,” she said, reaching back to brush her fingers along his cast. “Alright, let’s go,” she said, and continued toward the elevators.

  In her room, Danielle was sitting up in bed, ten shades whiter than she had been that morning. Her eyes – wide and wild – locked onto Lisa the second she was through the door, and she pulled her hand from her
mouth; she’d chewed her nails ragged.

  Lisa grabbed Drew’s t-shirt and hauled him in after her, closing the door behind them. “What?” she asked, some of Dani’s fear touching her nerves. She’d never seen anyone so outwardly frightened in her life. “What’s wrong?”

  Dani gathered the blanket in her fists and squeezed hard. She pulled in a fragile, trembling breath. “He-he…It…”

  “Who?” Lisa pressed, stepping up to the bed. “Who was it?”

  “It – ” She swallowed hard and tears sprang to her eyes, shiny under the hospital lights. The marks around her throat had darkened with time, and were ghoulish. She whispered something Lisa couldn’t hear.

  Lisa sighed. Her pulse was thumping hard in her ears and she had zero patience for this whispering bullshit. “I know you’re scared,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “but I need to know who it was, damn it, so – ”

  “It was Tristan,” Drew said behind her. “Wasn’t it?”

  Lisa whipped around to look at him, and saw nothing less than hatred etched in the harsh frown lines bracketing his mouth. “What?” She turned back to Dani. “Was it?”

  Danielle’s eyes dropped. She swallowed hard. She nodded.

  Before his disbarment, when the family coffers had been stupid with money, they’d lived in a neighborhood in Alpharetta called Astor Farms. It wasn’t a farm, but a tasteful subdivision full of McMansions, lined with sidewalks and trees. There was a playground down at the clubhouse, between the pool and tennis courts, and that’s where Shilling wanted to meet.

  The balls on the guy: picking Ray’s old neighborhood, and a spot by kids, no less.

  “I don’t have any cell reception,” he said, and skidded his phone across the dash of the truck. It hit the windshield with a satisfying thump. “Great.”

  “You’ve got me, though,” Mark said from the passenger seat with a half-grin.

  “You’re not funny.”

  “And you’re not handling this well. Come on. I got your back.”

  They left the truck and fell into step out of mindless habit, their strides matched as they started across the dry grass toward the playground. The slides, swings, and jungle gyms were teeming with children, their mothers sitting on the benches around the perimeter.

  One of these things is not like the others…Ray spotted Shilling right off. He sat alone, at the end of one bench, hands knotted together in his lap, watching a woman smear sunscreen on her little boy two benches over.

  “Fucking creep,” Ray said.

  Mark murmured a disagreeing sound. “Look at his face,” he said.

  Reluctantly, Ray did. It was narrow and harsh, too-thin and lined prematurely. The deep grooves in the corners of his eyes tugged down hard, melting into the lines that framed his mouth. And his gaze lingered – almost…sadly – on the plump blonde mother applying sunscreen to her tow-headed kid’s face.

  “I’ve seen predators,” Mark said. “He doesn’t look like one.”

  Ray pulled up an image of Drew’s defiant, puffed-up expression from that morning; the daughter-screwing prick had said he didn’t think Shilling was behind any of the chaos that had befallen their lives. What did he know? He was just a punk. A daughter-screwing punk. But if Mark thought the same thing…if he thought Shilling was innocent…

  “Stay here,” he said, and struck off toward his quarry alone.

  “Tristan?” Lisa didn’t recognize her own voice. She leaned down in Dani’s face, not caring that the other girl shrank back, quivering. “Tristan did this to you? Tristan Albright?” Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Her breath caught in her throat. There was no way this was true…Just no way…

  “Yes,” Dani said in a small, choked voice. She dashed at her tears with the back of a trembling hand. “It was him.”

  She didn’t realize she was swaying drunkenly until Drew’s hands landed on her shoulders. Then she knew that he was all that held her up. One of his hands – the one with the cast – lingered between her shoulder blades and he dragged a chair over with another; he eased her down into it not a moment too soon. There wasn’t an ounce of blood left in her head, all of it fast draining to her feet. He lingered behind her chair, hand circled loosely around the back of her neck. She leaned into the touch and let it anchor her; took a deep breath, and then another.

  “Okay,” Lisa said with a huge exhale. “Okay. Okay, okay.” She closed her eyes a second and Drew’s fingertips rubbed tiny circles along the sides of her throat. God bless the man.

  “Okay,” she said, eyes opening. “Dani, I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

  Her own reaction seemed to fortify Danielle a fraction. She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “Please don’t tell Missy,” she pleaded. “Or anyone. I just – ”

  “I won’t. You think I even talk to those bitches?”

  Another nod. Dani wet her lips, took another shivery breath, and began. “I was in the yard,” she said, staring at the ridges of her legs under the covers. “That guy – Eddie – he was cute and well…” A blush rose along her cheekbones. “I told him to meet me upstairs, in the hall bathroom. I went in first. I didn’t know anyone was inside” – her eyes widened as she remembered – “but I heard a voice when I got to the top of the stairs. Someone was standing in the hall, outside the bathroom door. His back was to me.” Her breathing picked up with an unhappy hitch. “I could tell it was Tristan. I recognized his voice; he was talking loud.”

  “Who was he talking to?”

  “He was on the phone. He said, ‘You keep your fucking mouth shut, or I’ll step things up.’ He said” – she took a breath – “‘What do you think Russell will do to you if something happens to one of his women? Huh? If you think he’s on your ass now, wait till I…’” Dani’s eyes flashed to Lisa’s, bright and terrified, the pupils just pinpricks of black under the fluorescent lights. “’Wait till I put my hands around his bitch daughter’s throat,’ he said.” Tremors overtook her. “He said he was going to kill you, Lisa.”

  Drew’s hand was all that kept her upright. Lisa took a breath and made herself say, “Then what happened?”

  Dani shuddered hard. “He turned around. I guess he heard me – and his face…God, his face looked awful. He didn’t look like himself at all. It scared me.” She swallowed. “I started to turn around, but he caught me by the hair. I tried to scream but he put a hand over my mouth. I had no idea what was going on, or what he was doing, or why he’d even said those things – ” The tears started to fall. “This was Tristan. This was my friend’s husband! And he pressed my face up against his shirt so I couldn’t scream and he…he tried to choke me to death!”

  Lisa blinked. “And you’re telling me the truth?”

  Dani looked scandalized. “Of-of course!” she cried.

  Logic. I need logic. If Tristan had been behind the flowers – if it had been Tristan trying to frighten them – and Tristan had been the one to choke Dani, then that meant he was getting spooked. He was escalating the violence. Becoming paranoid. He was starting to feel trapped. And he –

  “He came with Missy to see you,” Lisa said woodenly, and Dani nodded.

  “The way he looked at me…Missy was in front of him and couldn’t see, but his eyes…Oh, God. If he knows I told you anything– ”

  “He won’t.” She lurched unsteadily to her feet and Drew grabbed her arm, holding her upright. “I have to go.”

  “But wait, Lisa – ” Dani’s voice became panicked. “I – ”

  “Call your parents,” Lisa said, “and tell them to come sit with you. Then call the police and tell them exactly what you told me. Tell them it was Tristan.”

  “But – ”

  “Do it, okay?” She stepped around the chair. “I have to get out of here.” And she left the room without looking back. Drew followed, hand curled around her upper arm, as she shuffled down the hall and turned into the alcove where the restrooms were. She didn’t question Drew’s presence as he went into t
he ladies’ room with her. He let go of her when she staggered into a stall and lost what was left of her breakfast. It was just bile and spit, but she heaved until her stomach ached. When she flushed the toilet and backed out, Drew was waiting for her at the sinks, his concerned frown putting one of her mother’s to shame.

  “Someone’s gonna freak about you being in here,” she said in a raw voice as she pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dampened it.

  He didn’t comment.

  She rinsed her mouth and then pressed the damp towel to her neck, the coolness easing some of her nausea. When she finally forced her gaze up to Drew’s, she had trouble handling the way he was staring at her. It was intense and protective and tender all at once, and it made her want to cry.

  She turned and put her back to the counter so they were side-by-side. “I almost married him,” she said in a small, scared voice that she hated. “I slept with him. I – oh, God – ” She battled a fresh wave of nausea and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, fighting the urge to gag.

  Drew’s solid arm went across her shoulders and she sagged against him, too distraught to be ashamed. She felt his face against the top of her head. “You didn’t know,” he said, voice just a whisper.

  “Some taste I have. Aren’t you proud you got to bang the ex-fiancée of the Alpharetta Strangler?”

  “Do not say that.”

  “God,” she breathed. She wiped the towel down her face. “It – it doesn’t even make any sense, though. Yeah, Tristan’s a Grade A douche, but this? And the flowers and – ”

  She stiffened and shrugged out from under Drew’s arm. She spun and her eyes went to his face. “You don’t think

  he’d – ”

  “I think he’d do anything,” Drew said, face hardening. “Which means you’re not getting out of my sight.”

  “Oh, big overbearing man now?” Lisa asked, but his words were reassuring as she pulled her cell from her purse and mined through her contacts for Missy’s number.