by LP Lovell
“Wow, what a charmer you are.” Cute and horny apparently.
His eyes narrow and his lips curl up. “I’m just joking. Kinda…”
Is it wrong that I want to pet him right now? I like him like this, maybe I should just start spiking his whiskey or something.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You have fucked me up, doll. I’m so fucking high right now.” And then he laughs. Again.
“Well, that’s what happens when you go around getting yourself stabbed,” I tell him.
Shrugging, he looks up at me. “A, it was a scrape, and two, I’ll stab you with something, and you’ll like it,” he slurs.
Oh, dear God, did I overdose him or something? Shit. I shouldn’t laugh at him, because if he remembers any of this in the morning he will be so pissed, but I’m half tempted to film it. Caleb would love this.
“Awe, shit,” he mumbles, sighing heavily. “You have fucked me up so much my dick won’t even work.” His hand rubs over his crotch in desperation. “Why won’t it work?”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Jude, really? You’ve just been stabbed. Your dick is fine. You don’t need to keep checking whether it’s still there.” I slap his hand away from his crotch. “Stop playing with it.”
“Fine.” He huffs again and adjusts on the bed. His eyes skim over the room, stopping on the picture of his mother and sister. He studies that picture for a few moments before his eyes languidly come over to me. Another small huff. “You think I’m a horrible fucking person, don’t you?”
I press my lips together. What a loaded question. “I think you’re a person who does horrible things.” I say quietly.
Jude’s nostrils flare and he nods, then looks back at that picture.
I can sense his anguish, and there’s this part of me that can’t help but want to ease it. Call me stupid. “I refuse to believe that you’re the monster I once thought you were.”
“You’re smarter than to believe that. You know I am.” Suddenly he grabs my hand. “But I swear I never would have brought you here. I’m sorry.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare into his dark green eyes. I can’t argue with him, because it’s true, I never should have been brought here, but I guess the apology means something. This is Jude. He never apologises for anything.
“You didn’t want me here anymore than I wanted to come here, Jude.” I say, trying to ease his conscience. Why am I trying to ease his conscience? Why do I even care? Shit.
“I want you here now though,” he whispers. “Fuck, did I just say that out loud?” His eyes are fluttering. He can barely keep them opened. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
My heart clenches in my chest. God, what is he doing to me? I don’t know if I can do this. I like that he wants me here, and that is beyond fucked up. I sit up on the bed and swing my legs off the side, keeping my back to him.
His hand grabs my wrist and his fingers dig into my skin. “I know I’ve done some bad shit, but I would never really hurt you.” He draws in a large breath, possibly yawning, then says, “I would kill anyone who even thought of hurting my girl.”
My breath seizes in my lungs. “Jude, I…” Shit, what do I even say to that?
“Come here.” He tugs at my wrist, pulling me toward him, and I glance over my shoulder at him.
His eyes have gone all puppy dog. “Please,” he says. “That’s not a word I say often, you know?”
“Really, I hadn’t noticed.” Two more seconds of the eyes and I give in, laying back on the pillows next to him. I glance across at him, and he flashes me a cute smile. My heart clenches in my chest. When did he become someone who has the ability to make my heart clench? It was easier when he was just an arsehole, and as time goes on, all these small acts of good amongst the torrent of bad are starting to stand out. Jude has so much bad on his record, there should be nothing that could erase it, but slowly, my mind is starting to forget that. He’s the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, and yet I feel safe with him. I feel protected, and in his own twisted way, I feel cherished. My mind and my heart are at war with each other, and I feel like I’m about to snap from the pressure of it all.
He twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “My sister would’ve liked you.”
I twist my body to face him, and his eyes fix on my face. “Do you miss her a lot?” I whisper. I’ve watched Jude beat the shit out of people without a second thought, even his own brother, and my mind can’t comprehend the possibility that he might care, like really care for somebody.
He remains silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “I almost can’t remember them. I’m not sure what I’ve made up and what’s real, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah.” I feel the same way about my mum. Sometimes I just can’t picture her face anymore.
“I just wanna go to sleep.” He closes his eyes and tightens his hold around my waist. “Don’t leave me,” he says quietly, and I’m not sure if he meant that as an order or a plea.
“I won’t,” I say to the ceiling. What the hell am I doing?
I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been here. Things have become so twisted that I don’t know which way is up anymore. I would say it feels like my life is on pause, but of course it’s not, because when I press play there’s nothing left to play. My former life is gone, and the more I come to terms with that, the more accepting I become of this strange life that I’m living.
Then there’s Jude. I should hate him, but I don’t. I feel safe around him. He took everything from me, and it hurts, but he did it to protect me. In this fucked-up world where enemies lie in wait around every corner, sacrifices must be made. Euan and Joe set me up, tried to use me as a pawn. I guess you could say that I have horrible taste in men, or perhaps fate just took a giant shit on me.
Either way, it is what it is, and for now, I’m stuck in this strange limbo.
I pull the photo from the broken, glassless frame, staring at the image. It breaks my heart to think of what happened to them. Nobody should endure that. Jude shouldn’t have had to endure that. To lose your mother and sister is awful, but to lose them because of your father and the enemies he has made...that would destroy a person. Jude is strong in so many ways, but he’s also broken.
I slide the picture into the new frame, closing the back. The door clicks open just as I’m putting the picture back on the bedside table.
I look up and lock eyes with Jude. He has this wild intensity about him that always sends my heart into a sprint.
He stops, a frown masking his features as he looks from the picture frame to me. “What are you doing?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I got you a new frame,” I say quietly.
“Why?”
“Uh, because you went all Hulk and smashed the last one.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “And I know it’s important to you, so I got a new one. Well, actually, I think technically you got a new one.”
He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I break a lot of shit, though, so don’t go trying to replace anything else I break.” He sighs. “Just making yourself at home now, huh?” His eyes slowly lift to mine.
I laugh. “Nothing else to do around here, besides fuck the boss or play with his brother.”
He laughs. “You’re fucked up in the head, you know that, right?”
“Just know that I wasn’t before I came here” I joke.
“Yeah...” His expression falls blank and he crosses the room to pick up the frame. He stares at it, brushing his fingertip over the picture. “That bothers me,” he says under his breath.
“Why?” I whisper. My mental state shouldn’t bother him. He’s a criminal, a killer. No man who can look someone in the eye and pull a trigger should be capable of feeling remorse or empathy, and yet, here he is. I’ve felt his remorse in every subtle glance, every soft touch. This situation is so far beyond fucked up, it’s in its own league. All I know at this point is that things are not black and white. Good or bad, Jude is not the monster I thought he was.
Or maybe I just tell myself that to justify my own actions. Let’s be honest, they’re hardly the actions of a sane girl. Hell, I’m half-starting to wonder myself whether I actually have Stockholm Syndrome. Jesus.
“I don’t know.” His eyes are still fixed on that picture. “Just does.” He sighs as he sets the picture on the dresser. “Maybe because of them…” He turns and walks toward me. He stops in front of me, his eyes narrowing as he sweeps a finger over the scar on my throat. “Maybe because you deserve better.” He leans in, his gaze dropping to my lips just before he gently kisses me. “But I don’t want you to realize it.”
I wake up, stretch, and my eyes land on her sleeping form. I rub my hand over my chest as I stare at her. She’s been her for months. I’ve actually lost count. Of all the fucked up shit fate has thrown at me, for this, for her...I’m thankful. I press a kiss against her neck and roll out of the bed, my eyes landing on the picture of my mother and sister.
I like to forget that Tor is really only with me because she has nothing else, because I like to think this is what she has chosen--free from all the fucked up shit that actually made her choose it.
She makes me laugh, she pisses me off, she makes me feel guilty. She. Makes. Me. Feel. I care about her, but love, that’s an emotion I swore off fifteen years ago, which means I can never give her what she deserves, whether I am all she has or not, I can never offer her things most people take for granted.
I shove my way through the crowded stadium, dragging Tor behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch her smile. This situation has only grown more complicated with each passing day, because I’m beginning to dread the thought of her leaving, but more than that, I fear she won’t. She doesn’t belong with me. She’s too good for this life.
We push past several drunk fraternity brothers and walk to the skybox. The doors swing open and the warmth of the heater hits us. We barely make it a foot inside the room before I hear my name. “JP!” Rodney shouts, shoving several men out of his way.
“Good to see you.”
I nod and extend my hand. “Good to see you, partner.”
His gaze skims over her body, stopping on her chest. “This your girl?”
I hesitate, my breathing growing shallow. “Yeah.” That sounds so fucking strange to me, but she is.
“What’s your name, darlin’?” he asks.
She looks nervously at me. I catch her swallow. Maybe she’s been locked up with me for so long she’s forgotten how to socialize with anyone else.
She clears her throat and smiles warmly. “Tor.”
“Well”—his eyes skate over her. “JP’s got good taste in women, Tor.” Rodney grins and guides us over to the bar. “Help yourself to some drinks. The Saints have done me right this year.” He pats my back harder than I’d like. “Thanks to JP here, they’ve done me just right.”
He hands both Tor and me a beer, then raises both brows. “One day I’ll meet your boss, right? Just have to get in his good graces, I suppose?”
I laugh. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person. Likes anonymity and all.”
Rodney nods, placing a beer to his lips and sucking back a few drinks. “Ahh,” he says after swallowing. “I can understand why. Sure he has a lot of people that’d like to kill him.” He laughs, then squeezes his way through the crowded room to greet someone else who just walked in.
Tor leans into me. “He doesn’t know who you are?”
I shrug. “No one really does.”
She studies me, sips her beer, then slowly looks over the room before her gaze hones in on me accusingly. “Why are we here again?”
“Business.” I shrug and raise the beer to my mouth.
“Business?” She cocks a hip to the side and rolls her eyes. “Please don’t kill anyone.”
I shove a hand in my pocket and laugh. “I’ll try.”
I lean against the wall, watching as one of the men in full-on game attire approaches us. “JP?” he asks.
I nod, taking a sip from the beer.
“Phil Crocker,” he says. He awkwardly holds his hand out to shake mine, releasing a rolled up wad of cash into my palm.
I take the cash and slyly slip it into my pocket. I flash a grin and arch a brow. “It’s all there, right, Phil? I’m not gonna go to the bathroom and count it and find you shorted me, am I?”
“No.” His gaze darts around the room like we’re doing a fucking drug deal. Jesus Christ.
I nod and take another drink beer. “Good.”
Phil walks off and Tor narrows her eyes at me, stepping closer until her chest is brushing my stomach. She slips her hand in my pocket and her eyes widen. “Really? Just like that?”
I smirk, a short laugh rumbling from my lips. “Just like that, doll. Power.” I cock a brow. “Fear is power.”
The game is in the fourth quarter, and I’m more than ready to leave. Every single person in this room is drunk as piss, yelling and shouting and annoying as fuck. I hate having to do social business shit like this.
Fucking Rodney keeps looking at Tor, and I don’t like it. I watch from the bar as Tor smiles politely at various people while she makes her way back to me. I can’t help but stare at her. She laughs at something someone says to her, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she throws her head back. Damn, she’s beautiful. My eyes skate down her body slowly. That dress is hugging every slim curve, and all I can think about is fucking her.
I’m only half paying attention to the guys next to me as they try to discuss the game with me. Tor stops to squeeze through a group, and Rodney’s right behind her. I watch as he places his hand on the small of her back, a little too low on her back. I can see the muscles in her shoulders tense as they stop beside me, and his hand moves away from her. I want to punch him right in the face for touching her like that, but this is not the place do that.
The crowd explodes in fits of screams as the clock runs out of time. Rodney shakes me excitedly. “The only thing that could make this better would be if I could take that girl of yours home with me.” He grins.
My fingers clench inside my palms, and I attempt to laugh it off.
“Seriously,” he says, slightly slurring. He reaches for Tor and I grit my teeth. I watch as he sweeps a stray tendril of hair from her face. It takes every piece of restraint I own to control myself. “How much you want for her?”
Tor bats his hand away, narrowing her eyes at me as though this is somehow my fault.
Rodney grins, his eyes fixing on mine. “Come on, all you ever have around you are whores. Can’t share?”
I grab her hand and yank her to me, wrapping an arm around her waist. I glare at Rodney, my pulse throbbing in my temples, my chest heaving from the sudden anger building inside it like a tank. “Fucking apologize to her,” I growl, my jaw tightly clenched. It feels like my heart’s beating in the back of my damn throat.
He rolls his eyes and lifts the beer back to his mouth. “I was just having fun, JP. Calm the hell down.” I can feel the veins in my neck pop. He takes a short sip, licking the froth from his mouth. His gaze veers back to Tor and one corner of his thin lips curve into a smart-ass grin.
Everything inside me ignites. I grab him by the back of his head and smash his face into the bar. I drag him away from the bar and slam him against the wall, repeatedly smashing his skull against it. His hands claw at my arms and he tries to twist free of my hold, but there is no way in hell I am letting him go. “Learn some fucking respect,” I shout as I continue to violently bash his head against the wall. The back of his head is bleeding, and the larger the cardinal-red spot grows, the more I want to keep going.
I hear the other men in the room shout. Tor is screaming, yelling at me to stop. It’s all muffled background noise to the loud hammering of my own pulse. I want to kill this fucker.
“Let him go!”
“Get off him!”
Strangers are shouting, and I know it’s only a matter of time before these guys try to tear me off of him. Something bum
ps against the back of my knee. Suddenly Tor is hanging off my arm.
She grabs my chin, turning my face toward her. Her eyes lock with mine, wide and blue, and pleading. “Jude.” She shakes her head. “Stop.”
I release Rodney and he slumps down the wall, barely coherent.
“You okay?” she asks, her soft hands still clinging to my face.
I’m breathing heavily, and all I can do is shake my head no at first. After several deep breaths, I shout, “Fuck no! I want to kill him.”
“Look at me.” I look at her, only her. “Just breathe. Calm. Non-murderous thoughts.” She smiles, and the anger starts to dissipate. She’s like a bright fucking light, pulling me back from the darkness.
My pulse is slowing, my breathing falling more even, and for a second I find myself thinking she may be the one thing that can save me from myself. Even with all she’s been through, she still has this innocence to her that fucking consumes me, and I want to protect that. I refuse to let her become tainted by the filth that surrounds me.
“Nobody's gonna talk to you like that!” I take a calming breath.
There’s understanding in her eyes as she nods. “It’s fine.” She glances over her shoulder at the room of people staring. “Look, let’s get out of here.”
I turn. All eyes are fixed on us. It’s apparent none of these pansy-ass business men know how to handle a 225-pound pissed-off guy. I take a step and my foot hits something. There’s a groan from the floor. I look down to see a guy lying on the floor, his knees bent to his chest, his hands tucked between his thighs cupping his junk, and his eyes squeezed shut.
“Yeah, he was about to bottle you over the head,” Tor explains, shrugging. I glance up at her, and a pleased grin makes its way onto my lips. Damn, that shouldn’t be hot, but it is.
As soon as we get outside, I turn and pin her against the wall next to the door. People pass us, most drunkenly singing and celebrating.
“Jude?” She glances up at me with those innocent eyes and it hits me in a place that I’m not sure should ever be touched.
