by LP Lovell
“You shouldn’t be getting in the middle of a fight,” I breathe across her lips. I hear her inhale deeply as her fingers cling to my shoulders. “If anyone hurt you, I’d fucking kill them. You’re my girl.” There is so much more to say than just that, but I can’t and I won’t say it. Whatever this is, it needs to remain unsaid because it is wrong on numerous levels.
“Didn’t want him to ruin your pretty face.” She smirks. “It’s your only redeeming feature.” Her voice is low and raspy as her eyes fall to my lips. Damn, I wish she wouldn’t look at me like that.
“My face isn’t my best asset.” My lips barely brush against hers. “And you damn well know it.” I smirk.
She bites at her bottom lip as her fingers trail from my shoulders to wrap around the back of my neck.
“I am rather fond of your face, though.” She pushes onto her tiptoes and closes the space between us, placing a tender kiss to my lips. I crave this. I crave her. Even the devil needs something to break through his darkness at times. And that’s what Tor does...she rips through my darkness. I wrap my arms around her small waist, pulling her body close to mine to kiss her deeper. When I release her she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed. I fucking love that I do that to her every fucking time.
“Let’s go before we both get arrested,” she says.
I chuckle as we weave through the masses. “I don’t get arrested. Too many cops and politicians owe me, doll. I’m untouchable.”
Untouchable, except with her. She touches places inside me that shouldn’t be alive. She makes me weak, and the fucked-up thing is that I like it. She takes my control and challenges it, and it drives me insane, but I get off on it. She forces me to fucking feel. Honestly, obsession isn’t enough to explain this pull between us, because it’s more like an addiction. I know it will kill one of us, but at the moment the high seems fucking worth it.
She glances back at me, smiling like she couldn't be any fucking happier, like she’s forgotten why she’s even with me. She‘s stopped thinking of me as the person holding her captive...because I’m really not. She doesn’t belong with me, much less in this life, and for that I feel guilty because I’m nowhere near willing to let her go.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to figure out who the hell this girl is looking back at me. I’ve told myself for months now that this is just temporary, that I will leave as soon as it’s safe, but when will that be. The longer I stay here, the less reason I can see to leave. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know what I want.
Jude’s sordid life of corruption has tangled with mine. I think nothing of the fact that he carries a gun or that he gets stabbed in the leg. I thought nothing of shooting a man, I felt nothing. It’s all just par for the course. Slowly this is becoming my normal. What scares me the most, though, is that I’m okay with that. Why am I okay with that?
Jude has managed to impress himself into my world effortlessly. He has caused me pain and watched me break, only to put me back together again, and in a weird way, he’s made me stronger. I feel untouchable when I’m with him, because he’s untouchable. He protects me and fights for me in ways that no one else ever has, and I feel instinctively protective of him in return.
Every day it becomes harder to remember why this is wrong. I can’t deny that I feel for Jude, even while I hate myself for it.
I think I might be falling in love with him, and of all the things I thought he might do to me, loving him was not one of them.
I know that I’m nothing more than a willing bed warmer, a hostage he was forced to harbour. Men like Jude aren’t capable of love, and I know that. I question my own sanity on a daily basis. How the hell do you even fall for a guy like Jude?
I always told myself that passion and love don’t matter, spoken by a girl who had never felt it. They matter, and losing them will hurt more than any of my physical wounds.
I know I need to leave before I get any deeper, before the scars run so deep that I may never be redeemed, but walking away from him might very well be my destruction.
“He’ll find you.” Marney nods. “He wants you, Jude. That girl’s dead as far as he’s concerned, and you know it.”
Leaning my elbows on my desk, I steeple my fingers over the bridge of my nose.
Marney goes over to the bar and opens the cabinet. I hear him unscrew a bottle. There’s a steady pour, then it stops and starts again as he fills another glass. Holding out a drink to me, one side of his thin lips twitch up. “No better time to drink that than now.”
I glance back at the bar to find my vintage bottle of Maker’s Mark, the label worn down from the years my dad poured from it. I haven’t touched it since the day he died.
“You gotta do something, Jude. You ain’t got no choice.” A raspy cough rumbles up his chest and he sets the drink down.
“I know I don’t.” I inhale as I run my finger over the glass and wonder if this is how my father felt. Is this what it’s like to be at your wit’s end? Nothing seems logical anymore.
“What are you gonna do with the girl? Huh?” He shakes his head and holds his lips to the glass, but doesn’t drink. “Who would’ve thought a woman could fuck so much shit up?”
Marney has no idea exactly how fucked up this all is. It’s more than fucked, it’s a clusterfuck of fucks. I care about her, and I don’t care about anyone. Caring about someone the way I care for her causes you to make stupid-ass decisions, it makes your entire life irrational, illogical.
“Jude, you gotta do something.” Marney shrugs. “We gotta do something, or we’re all fucking dead, and we don’t need to be worrying about some girl in the process. Joe’s a barracuda.”
I take a swig of the aged bourbon, and the scent of it makes me think of my dad. It hasn’t finished burning its way down my throat, and I’m already filling my mouth again with the stout liquor. Taking a cigarette from the pack on my desk, I twist it between my fingers. “I don’t know what the hell to do,” I mumble.
Marney’s eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side like he’s just had some realization. “She’s really gotten to you.”
“No.”
I light the cigarette and take a long drag, locking my eyes on Marney’s.
He nods and twist the knob to the lamp, the yellow light from the old bulb shadowing his face. “Women fuck everything up. Your father was just like you before he met your mother. It happens to the best of us. It’s hard to be a criminal when you’re in love, just remember that.”
What in the hell is this decrepit old man rambling about? I’m not in love with her. I am not in love with her...
“Jude, Joe and your dad weren’t always enemies. They fell out over a woman.”
I stare at him from across the room, watching him nervously shift his weight on his feet.
“Hell,” he sighs, and tips back his drink. “Your mother was Joe’s wife.”
I feel my jaw loosen and my brow crease. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Now, I know this is gonna be hard to swallow, and your mother was a wonderful person, so don’t let that change in your mind, but she and your dad weren’t ever married.”
He must see my jaw clenching because he holds his hands up and waves them like he’s surrendering before he clears his throat. “Jude, your mom left Joe when she found out she was pregnant with you. She and your father had an affair.”
I shake my head, unwilling to even contemplate what he’s saying because I’ve always viewed my mother as a saint, and this tinges that image.
Marney gulps back another swig and nods. “She just disappeared and Joe had no idea where she went. None. And do you know what a fucking feat that was?” A nostalgic glaze coats his face momentarily, and then his smile fades.
“And what, Dad just kept working with him even though he’d knocked up his wife?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why wouldn’t he? Joe had no idea. No reason to make him suspicious.”
My stomach churn
s a little at the thought of it all.
“But he found out, all right. Took the bastard ten years, but he found out, and he made both her and your father pay.”
I take the drink and empty the entire glass into my mouth, staring up at the ceiling as I swallow it back.
“Jude, your father loved her, and she loved him. Now, I’m not saying what they did was right, but…” He walks over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, your dad went soft when he met your mother. Joe was a bastard. He beat her, he fucked around on her, and all your dad wanted to do was save her, protect her.” He squeezes my shoulder gently. “You want to protect the things you love, the things you think can’t be replaced. Just be careful.”
I stand, gripping the edge of my desk and letting everything sink in. There is a deeper reason for Joe wanting to kill me than I could have ever known. I epitomize everything he fucking hated. I am a physical reminder, a surviving piece of the two people who betrayed him.
I happen to look into the hallway and see Tor standing just outside the doorway, staring into the room, but I don’t think she realizes that I see her. Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck if she does.
“She doesn’t belong with me.”
Marney nods. “If you see that, then you do love her.”
I hear one of the lines ring, but ignore it. I can still see her out the corner of my eye. “Love is a luxury I can’t afford, and you know it,” I say.
Marney’s lips press together before he raises the glass to his lips.
The answering machine finally picks up. “They say you have your mother’s eyes,” a deep, thick Yankee accent snarls into the line, and I know it must be Joe. “And I swear to God I will take pleasure in cutting those damned things from their socket, you bastard. I know where you are now, and I will kill you.”
The line goes dead. I grab the phone and hurl it across the room. Marney rises and shakes his head. “Now what you gonna do?”
Marney moves past me, leaving Jude’s office. His eyes lock with mine and narrow as he shakes his head. He doesn’t want me here.
My mind reels over what I just heard. Everything is becoming so twisted; it feels like the odds are permanently stacked against us, and I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop and it all come violently crashing down around us.
What we’re living, it’s a lie, and it will end, one way or the other. I just need to get out before he breaks me, because loving him will break me.
I take a deep breath and knock on the office door.
“Come in,” he answers gruffly.
I step through the open doorway and close the door behind me. Jude glances up as I walk in, his dark green eyes locking with mine. Something passes between us, this familiarity that feels as easy as breathing. He has this power over me that I can’t fight. He’s still the scary guy I met when I got dragged in here months ago, but there’s a softer edge to him, a vulnerability that I can now see, and that scares me even more.
“I want to leave,” I blurt.
His eyes narrow on me before he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket. He places one against his lips and lights it, taking a slow drag. “No,” he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
I tilt my head forward, trying to escape his intense stare. “Jude…”
“I said no, Tor. No!” he growls. His tone leaves no room for argument, but I can’t back down.
“I need to leave, Jude. I can’t stay here forever.” I sound frantic, even to my own ears.
He stands and stalks around the desk toward me. “Need, or want?” His voice is a low timbre that rumbles over my senses.
“Need,” I whisper as he comes to a halt inches away from me. His proximity makes me shiver, and my heart skitters against my rib cage. Every fiber of me wants him, and I hate that I do.
His hand reaches out, stroking over my jaw and down my throat. My breath hitches, and I clamp my thighs together, trying to fight my natural reaction to him. He leans in until his lips are almost touching my neck.
“I know what you need, Tor.”
“You don’t know me, Jude.” My voice hitches.
His lips kick up in a smirk, his thumb grazing under my chin. “Oh, I fucking know you.” I need to step away from him, his closeness clouds my judgement. I take a shaky step backward and he cocks an eyebrow in response.
“Jude...” I try to warn him.
He laughs as he takes another drag from his cigarette. “This isn’t up for discussion,” he says, exhaling a long stream of smoke.
“This is my fucking life, Jude, and this isn’t a life!” I shout at him. I know it’s stupid, and I know it’ll piss him off, but I just need out.
I hear his teeth grind against each other. “And neither is being six feet under in a grave!”
“The only reason that I’m under threat is because I’m associated with you!” I watch the anger roll over his features. I should back off at this point, but my temper surges, pressing me to make him see, whatever that takes. Staying here will only destroy me in the end. He will destroy me.
He drops the cigarette onto the floor and stamps it out before closing the space between us, placing his chest against mine. His eyes narrow as his breathing becomes ragged. I instinctively back away from him, and he follows me. Step by step, he stalks me, pressing me until my shoulder blades touch the cool wall. He pushes his body against mine, and all the oxygen seems to get sucked out of the room. He overwhelms me simply with his presence.
“You will always be in danger, with me or not. The only way you will leave me is in a fucking body bag!” He slams his palm flat against the wall beside my head. His face is inches from mine, his breath touching my lips. “Do you hear me? I won’t let you leave me!”
“So I’m a hostage now?”
His head shakes violently from side to side. “You are not. Fucking. Leaving.”
“I can’t do this anymore. Please, Jude,” I beg.
“What can’t you do anymore? Huh, what is so fucking horrible about all this?”
“Everything! This, us, you...” I take a deep breath and force out the words that I know will cut him. Playing on his guilt, I scream, “I hate you. You’re a monster, and as much as I try to pretend otherwise, you will always be a monster. I can never forgive you for what you’ve done to me.”
He growls, narrowing his eyes at me. “What I’ve done to you? What the fuck have I done to you?” His eyes lock with mine, demanding, commanding.
“I would rather take my chances out there with Joe than stay and be your own personal whore,” I spit.
“You are not a fucking whore!” he shouts. His hand slams around my throat and his fingers clench tight. He’s so close, his lips are almost touching mine. “You’d rather be dead than be with me?” His grip tightens slightly, and my fingers claw at his forearm.
The words are simple enough, but I can hear the vulnerability in them. I know Jude, and he’s not as emotionless as he likes to pretend. On some level I believe he needs or wants me, but this is not right. I feel like I’m losing my mind, whilst my heart feels like it’s shattering in my chest. I close my eyes as several tears slip free, sliding down my cheeks. I can’t answer him. I can’t say yes. I just can’t, but if I say no, then he’ll never let me go. I need him to let me go.
His fingers remain clamped around my neck, his hold tight, but not enough to suffocate me. I hear him inhale sharply before his forehead touches mine, and his warm breath fans across my face.
“Please, let me go, Jude.” I’m begging. “You don’t want this, and neither do I.”
“You’ve no idea what I want.” His voice is low, soft and controlled, and that terrifies me. I can cope with his temper, I can handle his brutality, but it’s in the moments when he’s gentle and kind that scare me the most, because it’s in those moments that I feel something for him, something tangible, something real, something I shouldn’t.
“You know what I want, Tor? Huh?” The look in his
eyes nearly kills me. He looks hurt. He has hurt me so many times, and yet his pain breaks me in ways that I never thought possible. His hand moves away from my throat, gripping my jaw. He forces me to look at him. “I want fate to stop fucking me.” I feel his rough fingertip skim across my cheek, brushing away a stray tear. Without warning, his lips slam over mine. He kisses me hard, without mercy. He kisses me like he owns me and he damn well knows it. “You don’t want to leave me,” he says softly against my lips, the slight stubble on his face scratching against me. “You just feel like it’s wrong that you want to stay. Stop fucking with me.”
My pulse skitters wildly as his lips brush against mine. God, I can’t do this.
I open my eyes and meet his intense gaze. “Jude, I think I’m in love with you,” I breathe out before I realise I’ve said it. I never intended to tell him, but he’s not letting me go. I need him to acknowledge how warped this really is, how fucking toxic this path is that we’re on.
He releases my chin and takes a small step back, putting some much needed space between us. His eyes become cold and unreadable. This is the man that I saw the first day I walked into this office. This is the man that scares me, and this is the man I need to see so that I can walk out of here without a backward glance.
He paces in front of me, dragging his hands through his hair. The silence seems deafening in light of my confession. Finally he glances up at me. “You’re right. You should leave.”
I nod as pain ripples across my chest. This is what I wanted, for him to let me go. So why does it hurt so much?
I nod once more, keeping my eyes on the floor. “Okay then,” I whisper, my throat tightening. I don’t wait for his response. I walk out of the office. As soon as I turn the corner into the hall, I break into a jog and head to Caleb’s room. I don’t even knock, I just turn the knob and open the door before falling through it and slamming it behind me.
The room is empty, which I’m grateful for. Caleb is of course going to know about this. He’ll have to, because I’m staying in here tonight. I stagger back and slide down the wall as tears spill down my face. Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut. Why did I tell him? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. I told him because a niggling gut instinct knew that it would freak him out, knew that it would force him to let me go. I guess the stupid bloody girl in me is feeling stung by the rejection.
