“Dallas’s.”
“Did Dallas leave his phone?”
I survey his room and see it on the charger on the nightstand. I run to it. “Yeah, hold on.” I pull it off the charger and swipe at the screen. “Dammit, it’s asking me for a damn pass code.”
“Okay, well, I think I know someone who knows someone who has the number to the Fiji house. No use driving over there if we don’t have to.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you right back.” She hangs up and I stare at the phone.
Now what?
I walk around Dallas’s apartment and gather my things. What in the hell is going on? Whom did Dallas hurt?
Oh, God. I don’t think I can deal with him being a violent person. And if he is, how violent does he get?
What the hell am I doing? I barely know him and I’m just falling into … whatever it is we’re falling into.
And with abandon at that.
It’s reckless. Much more reckless than what I signed up for when I decided to have a one-night stand with him.
My God, Carmyn, get yourself together!
My phone rings, but it’s not Ava.
“Carmyn, it’s Randall.”
“Oh, thank God, Randall. The cops just came and arrested Dallas. For assault and fucking battery. What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll go down to the station and bail him out. Do you want to come with me?”
“No.” I really don’t. I’m freaking out and if I step foot into a police station, or see him cuffed again, I am going to lose my shit. “Have him call me.”
“It shouldn’t be against the law to beat someone’s
ass if they deserved it.”
—Dallas Brown
I’M standing in the receiving area as a booking cop takes pictures of my tattoos. Not sure why. It’s pretty evident that none of them are gang affiliated. They’re more art than anything else. Unless they think I have some gang code hidden in the dragon sleeve on my arm—maybe the Latin on my chest threw ’em off.
Hell, maybe they take pictures of everyone’s tattoos. I don’t know. I’m the only one being processed, and the last time I was arrested was for some high school, no-trespassing bullshit. No ink back then.
They move me over to the desk and take my fingerprints.
“Step over here, please,” the cop says. Time for my mug shot.
I’m gonna kick Becker’s ass when I get out of here. Sure, that’s what I’m in here for, but he deserves it. It was a while ago I beat his ass, but as soon as he sees Carmyn curled under my arm, happy, now he wants to report it. Fucking pussy.
They take me into a bland, white room with a stack of orange jumpsuits on metal cabinets and have me strip. Sucks to have another man cup your balls. I even have to shower with lice shampoo, which reeks to high hell.
I rinse and get out as quickly as I can. I throw on a jumpsuit, and now I’m in a cell with four other guys, waiting for Randall to bail my ass out.
I should be at home right now, lying skin to skin with Carmyn. She has to be scared, or worried, or both. If she wasn’t afraid of me before, she has to be now.
The longer I’m here, the better the chance that little shit Becker will try to get to her, to tell her I’m here because I was physical with him. And it’ll sound more terrible than it is because that bastard sure as hell isn’t gonna tell her what he did to deserve it.
And what if she feels sorry for him and they get back together?
I hope she’s with Randall instead, on their way to come get me. I can do nothing but wait, so I focus on the guy across the room who’s tripping. Or coming down off some high. He looks miserable. His cheeks are sunken, and he’s jabbering to himself as he rocks back and forth, agitated and clicking his fingernails together.
“How long has he been doing that?” I ask the guy closest to me.
He looks up and over at the guy. He shrugs. “A while.”
Shit, shouldn’t someone give him something? Or put his ass in detox? This is fucked up.
I slide across the bed to rest my back against the concrete wall. This angle gives me a full view of the cell. I’m not so worried about the other guys, but who knows what the hell trippy-tripster over there is likely to do.
Probably an hour later—I can’t be sure because there are no clocks in the cell and they took my watch in booking—a cop comes down the hall. “Dallas, you made bail.”
I slide off the bed like a kid who’s just been told he gets to go to the zoo. I’m so ready to be out of here and explain to Carmyn what happened.
The cop leads me to a room to get changed back into my own clothes and gives me my personal items. Wallet. I check inside to make sure nothing’s missing. They’re not supposed to take anything, but who am I supposed to complain to if they do? Ring, check. Bike and house keys, check.
I’m relieved Carmyn isn’t going to see me walking out of here in that jumpsuit. And hopefully seeing me leave of my own accord should help replace some of whatever will stick after seeing me taken away in cuffs.
The cop opens the door into the front area of the station, and I find Randall sitting in one of the chairs against the wall. My anxiety thickens. “Where’s Carmyn?”
He stands and comes over to me before he speaks. “I dunno man, but she seemed pretty shaken up. She said for you to call her.”
Shit! “Well, thanks for bailing me out.” We clap hands.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but first you’re straight-up refusing to go to the strip club—”
“I didn’t refuse.”
“And now you’re getting arrested for … what is it that you did?”
We climb into his car. “I clocked Becker in the face. Twice. And I’m spending time with Carmyn—he didn’t take kindly to the last part.”
“And he reported you hitting him?” he asks surprised.
“Looks like it. Asshole.”
Randall steers us toward my apartment. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to call Carmyn. Talk this out.” Sounds easier than I have an inclination it will be, though.
Randall pulls into the lot and idles his old Camaro.
“Thanks, bro. You want to come inside for a beer?”
“Nah, I’m cool. Go talk to your woman.”
I grin. No one has ever referenced Carmyn as my girl in such a natural way before. I like the way it settles in the air, the way it spins in my gut. “Thanks,” I say again, closing the door.
I jog up the walkway, hoping I don’t see Becker right now. I want to beat his ass, but not now. First, I have to talk to Carmyn.
I make it to my apartment without incident and go in search of my phone. All of Carmyn’s things are gone. And the movie player’s still open—she took the movie out. I was going to take it back. Maybe she wanted to watch it some more before then. God, I hope that’s what she was thinking.
I find my phone on the bed and click in the unlock code. I had to put a code on it when women kept adding their numbers, and taking sexy pictures and setting them as my home screen wallpaper. Surprising how many of them thought that’d appeal to me. Fuck that. If I wanted that, I’d ask for it.
I ring Carmyn’s phone, but it goes to voicemail. I try her dorm room next.
Ava answers.
“Hey, Ava. Carmyn there?”
“No, she’s at work.”
Shit. “What time does she get off?”
“Six, but I wouldn’t go over there if I were you. She’s pretty rattled about what happened. Give her a bit to relax first.”
Fuck that. That’s exactly why I have to go over there. I’m not waiting until after six, either. I thank Ava and grab my keys, running down the stairs and hopping on my bike before tearing out of the complex.
“There’s no denying my life is out of control.”
—Carmyn Rafferty
I WALK around the bridal shop in a daze. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it, but I thin
k I’m actually falling in love with Dallas. This scares the shit out of me. Sometimes when I’m with him, it makes sense. I’m just me and he’s just him. And he does these things, things like getting me the dance flyer and paying the first couple of classes, or creating a metal beauty all from the way he feels about me, from how he sees me. In some alternate reality, we’d probably be really great together.
But then something like the manager at the bank eying his sleeve tattoo reminds me that Dallas will have a hard time getting a job or being promoted in the corporate world—he is getting his degree in finance.
Or him getting arrested.
I frown because that last one really disturbs me. I imagine my future to be my spouse and me with corporate careers; I will have a loving husband who’s clean-cut and respected in our community, a great father with values to pass on to our children. In some ways Dallas fits into that. But in more ways, he doesn’t, and his getting arrested just reminds me of that.
I have no idea what we’re doing. What I’m doing. How far is too far? And have we already reached it?
I’m grateful we’re slow today because I’m not nearly as chipper as I need to be to help these women with their perfect weddings.
I’m zoned out and peering through the front display window as I hang new veils when I see Becker’s white Lexus pull into the lot.
What the hell is he doing here?
I watch until I see him get out and head for the bridal shop’s front door.
“Emery?” I call to the other girl working with me. “Can you cover for me for a second?”
“Sure,” she says and I head out the front door.
“What do you want?” I ask Becker. He is the last person I want to see. “And what nerve for you to come here to try to get it.”
“Carm doll,” he says my nickname in the same tone he used to, and I’m not sure how I ever liked it before. I hate it now. “I just came—”
“No, I am not your ‘Carm doll’ anymore.” I start walking toward his car and tick my head to the side for him to follow me. Whatever he’s trying to pull, I don’t want it done in front of the shop. “Whatever you’re here to say, you better say it quick because I am about to turn around and go back inside.”
“I know I messed up—”
“Yeah, you messed up real good.”
He puts his hands out and wraps his fingers around my crossed arms. “But I miss you.”
Oh God. The whine. It’s so annoying. I pull back from his reach. “Well, I don’t miss you.”
He flinches, and I’m taken aback by how true those words are. I don’t miss him. At all. In fact, with that pouting face, I’m not sure what I ever saw in him.
“Regardless, I came here to talk to you about Dallas.”
I step back, putting up more defenses. “You know nothing about him.”
“He’s not a good guy, Carm. He’s slept with almost every girl on campus, and—”
“And what about you? I don’t know how many people you’ve slept with, but sure as shit, it’s a lot more than I’m aware of. Hell, you could’ve slept with even more than he has.”
“There’s more. He’s violent.”
My face grows serious. “Becker, you need to leave.”
“Just hear me out. Please.”
I glare at him. “And why should I?” The guy doesn’t deserve any more of my time.
“I’m serious. He was arrested because he punched me in the face. Twice.”
My jaw drops. I was hoping the charges were a mistake, or Dallas got into a bar fight or something stupid and somewhat manageable. I never expected him to be violent against someone I actually know.
He steps up to me and rubs my shoulders. I’m in too much shock to move away from him. “You shouldn’t be around someone like him. You deserve better. And you could get hurt.”
A heavy rumble grows louder before Dallas’s bike pulls into the parking lot. Dallas parks in the spot next to us and cuts off the engine. He does not look happy. The arch in his eyebrows disappears and his lips tighten into thin lines. He climbs off his bike and I take a step away from him and Becker. I don’t know what to believe.
He frowns at me and then shoots Becker a cold, threatening glare. “What the hell have you been telling her?”
“The truth,” Becker says, unfazed.
“The truth, my ass!” Dallas focuses his attention back to me. “Did he tell you why I punched him?”
So he admits it. “The charges? They’re real, then?”
“They’re real, but—”
“Shit, Dallas. What do you expect me to do with this?”
“Becker here didn’t seem to have much of an issue with it until he saw us going up to my apartment last night, did you?” he asks, turning to Becker.
I turn to Becker, my brows furrowed. “How long ago was this?”
“Assault is assault,” Becker says, as if everything else is irrelevant.
“A couple of weeks ago,” Dallas answers.
I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore. I look from Becker to Dallas.
“And yeah, dipshit, go ahead and tell her what you said to cause me to punch you.”
I glare at Becker. What did he do now? “Becker?”
“He’s a bad apple, Carm.”
Dallas grits his teeth. “Bullshit.” He turns to me. “I am repeating what he said word for word: ‘Did Carmyn tell you her mom was a slut? I guess she tells that to all the guys she sleeps with.’”
I gasp and lunge at Becker with an open hand.
Dallas holds me back.
“I was only speaking the truth,” Becker says as Dallas pulls me away.
Dallas lets me go and turns around, punching Becker in the face. “Go ahead and report me again, you bitch. Every time you open your fucking mouth about her, I’m socking my fist into your face. You wanna fuck with us, let’s do this.”
This is nuts. I glower at Becker. I hate his guts. “You need to leave now.”
Becker wipes his bleeding lip. “You’re both fucking crazy. You deserve each other,” he says and then gets into his Lexus and drives away.
Dallas wraps his arms around me. I’m shaking from the adrenaline. “It’s okay,” he says and rubs his hand down my hair.
I should’ve known Dallas had a good reason to hurt someone. I feel guilty for being so disappointed in him. I was ready to whale on Becker, more so than when he cheated on me. “I can’t believe he said those things.” It hurts even more because of how deeply personal they are.
“I couldn’t, either. He got what he had coming, though.”
“What the hell is his problem? He’s the one who cheated on me.” And he’s trying to tell me I deserve better than Dallas, like he’s so much better. What an ass.
“He’s a damn idiot.”
I look up at him, worried. “What if he calls the cops again?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
I place my hand on his chest and pat where I think his shark tattoo rests underneath his shirt. “Thank you for defending me, but you have to understand that getting arrested is a big deal. Hell, I’ve never even shoplifted before. And the next thing I know, you have police knocking on your door, cuffing you, hauling your ass off. Then I find out it’s because you were violent with someone. Someone I know. I don’t hang out with violent people, Dallas, and I can’t deal with a criminal record. Especially one in the making.”
He frowns. “So you’d rather he say those things about you?”
“No, but I don’t want to see you get in trouble over me, either. I’d rather he just leave me alone.”
The relief on Dallas’s face is clear.
“Did you think I’d want him back?”
“I hoped not, but you guys have so much history together it’s a possibility.”
I shake my head. “No. No way in hell.”
He chuckles and pulls me tight to his chest, his stubble catching some of the strands of my hair.
I look up at him again. “
I have to go back inside, but what are you doing here?”
“Well, you weren’t there when Randall bailed me out, and then Ava said you were really upset. I had to come explain it to you … set things right.”
I grin. I can’t help it. “I was pretty shaken up.” I rest my hand on his chest and step back. “Just don’t do things to get arrested anymore. It’s much too radical for this girl.”
His lips curve up on one side more than the other. “So we’re good then?”
I take a few steps backward toward the shop, thinking about it. “For now,” I say and turn around, not stopping until I’m inside.
After the door shuts, I glance back.
Dallas watches me with a smile on his face before he cranks his bike to life and drives off.
I still have no idea what the hell I’m doing or how far I can take this without getting burned.
“Sometimes life hands you something special and you shouldn’t be afraid to take it.”
—Dallas Brown
I’M done at the shop early, so I call Carmyn and tell her I’m coming to pick her up. “Is your homework finished for next week?” She still does her work far in advance, but she’s not as Nazi about it as she was when we first met.
“Yep, just finishing the last piece now. Why?”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“Oh, you are, are you?”
I crank the bike and shout over the rumble. “On my way now.”
“And what am I wearing?” I’ve trained her well. She never knows where we’re going. I have no clue this time, either. I just want her on the back of my bike with her arms around me.
I smile and turn off the bike. “What are you wearing now?”
She laughs. “Probably not what you’re hoping.” She drops her voice, “But we can fix that.” Her tone is silky and sultry. Seductive.
I crank the bike again. “Something you can ride in. On my way.”
Her laugh trills into the phone as I hang up.
I’m anxious the whole way to her dorm. Whatever she’s going to have on, she’ll make it good. I park outside the quad so I can watch her walk toward the parking lot.
Damn. I wipe my thumb across my bottom lip. Not that I’m drooling, but it tingles. Like it wants to touch her golden skin. She’s wearing her cowboy boots. Short shorts that have some kind of wavy cut around the thigh like lace, but not. And she’s wearing a loose, airy white tank top. That’ll be nice for her on the bike. The sun’s out and it’s hot as hell, but once we get going, the breeze should cool us off a bit.
Wicked Thing Page 13
