Darkest Night

by Megan Erickson

  She obviously wasn’t in the mood to let him leave peacefully. “I wanna watch TV.” She pulled him toward her couch, her slender fingers around his forearm. “Watch with me.”

  He didn’t want to sit on the couch with an intoxicated Fiona while she wore those fucking clothes. That sounded like a fucking horrible idea. But she nudged him to sit and then threw herself down, head on the armrest, legs in his lap.

  In. His. Fucking. Lap.

  He didn’t move as she turned on the TV with another yawn. He didn’t dare touch her legs and kept his arms at his sides. Her feet were perfect, her nails painted a deep purple. Her legs were shapely, and her skin looked soft as hell.

  “Armageddon!” she screeched, and his gaze shot to the TV. Sure enough, there was Bruce Willis on the screen, talking to his team of drillers.

  Fiona sighed. “I love this movie. In college, Wren came home twice to me bawling my eyes out. By the second time, she realized I was just watching Armageddon again.”

  “This movie makes you cry?” he asked.

  She stared at him. “This movie makes everyone cry!”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Okay, well not you, Mr. Emotions Are Weak.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Do you think it?”

  Again he didn’t respond.

  She smirked. “That’s what I thought. Well, then you can sit there and listen to me cry because, when Bruce shoves Ben Affleck into the elevator thingy on that asteroid, I bawl every damn time. And then the song! It’s like they made this movie just to watch people cry buckets, and I fall for it every time.”

  She didn’t even make it ten minutes. Bruce, Ben, and their crew hadn’t made it into space yet before Fiona was asleep, her hands clasped against her chest, her breaths even and deep.

  Even in sleep, she was fucking gorgeous. What he wouldn’t have given in that moment to lay down with her, wrap his arms around her, and kiss her neck, pressing his hardening dick against her back. She’d wake up, and roll over with a sleepy grin, press those lips to his and then…

  And then nothing. Shut up, Jock.

  He had to move. He carefully slid out from under her legs, and she didn’t stir as he grabbed Sundance’s leash. The dog needed to go out, so Jock led him downstairs to do his business and then back up to the apartment where Jock gave him fresh water. He went to check on Fiona before he left and found her awake yet groggy.

  “What time is it?” She stretched her arms over her head and the edge of her tank rode up, showing a strip of pale, soft skin. Fuck.

  He forced his gaze to her face, which didn’t help matters because she had a fucking gorgeous face, and waking up like this, she was also cute. “Late,” he answered.

  She blinked at the TV, which he’d already turned off, and she rubbed her eyes. “Shit, did I miss Armageddon?”

  “Sorry, you didn’t get to cry tonight.”

  She grinned and then began to gather her arms under her to get off the couch. “I guess I should go to bed.”

  He gripped her arm and helped her up, but in doing so, she stumbled into him, grabbing at his shirt to keep herself upright. Her little body was hot against his, and he waited patiently for her to step away, go back to her bedroom, and put him out of his misery.

  Instead she said softly, “Thank you.”

  There was a lot in those two words. A lot that he wanted to explore but that he absolutely could not. Nope. Oh no, no, he didn’t want this moment or her voice full of tenderness. He didn’t do tender.

  He tried to step back but she didn’t let go. “Jock.”

  He swallowed and tried to ignore that he felt her saying his name right in his dick. “Fiona.”

  The wine was still in her system. He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the unsteady sway of her body. Her fingers uncurled where she clutched his shirt, but he got no reprieve because then she took those hands and slid them right up his chest. “My God, you’re so hard,” she said, almost to herself.

  She had no idea how hard he was right now.

  “Do you have a girlfriend, Jock? A wife? Someone you care about?” So much hope in those questions, so much damn hope that he could barely stand it.

  There was someone he cared about, and she was right in front of him. “No girlfriend, no wife.”

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Are you…are you attracted to me?”

  Jesus, fuck, she was killing him. He was going to die. “Fiona…”

  “Can you please just answer me?”

  He reached up and gripped one of her wrists, squeezing. “Have to be blind not to be attracted to you.”

  She sucked in a breath and her eyes shone, the wet at her bottom lid trembling and not in a good way. “Right. I guess…right.”

  The pain in her eyes sliced through him. What had he said? He was missing something vital that was going on. “Talk to me.”

  “My laugh,” she said sharply, whipping her hair back so it brushed his arms. “At dinner, I thought…I guess I thought maybe you were attracted to more than blond hair and tits and ass, okay? I thought for a moment that the man who’d made me feel some attraction for the first time in years saw me as more than a body.”

  He stared at her, unsure how she’d come to that conclusion. “What the fuck?”

  She made a sniffing sound as she refused to meet his eyes. “It’s fine. Your body language is practically screaming that you want to run away so—”

  He wrapped an arm around her back and then dropped down onto the couch on his ass, Fiona sprawled in his lap with her knees on either side of his hips. She yelped, which was fine, because at least she’d stopped spewing the stupid shit that she’d twisted in her head. Thirty seconds ago, he couldn’t wait to leave. But now, no way in fuck was he leaving with her under the wrong impression. “Let’s get a few things straight,” he said. “Are you listening? Are you going to remember this? Because it’s important.”

  She nodded, her hands still on his shoulders. Her eyes were wide now, and dry. She was eager. She wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “Yes, I see blond hair and tits and ass. But I’m attracted to you because of what comes with it. You’re strong, and sweet, and your laugh is what I think those twinkle Christmas lights look like.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but he kept going, because apparently he was Captain Romantic now. Where was he getting this shit? Twinkle lights? He powered on and rolled his hips, which pressed his hard dick up against her crotch. “See? I’m attracted to you. You’re wearing next to nothing, and your face is flushed from wine, and the last thing on my mind is your cute rant about Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck.” He reached up and swiped a strand of hair off her check, indulging himself in that one touch of her soft skin. “But babe, I can’t…I’m not sure what you see when you look at me. Maybe you think there’s some deeper shit inside so, if you spend enough time clawing at the dirt, you’ll get the diamond underneath.”

  Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and a small gasp escaped her mouth. “I’m no diamond. You can dig and dig to the brink of exhaustion, nearly killing yourself, and there’ll still be more fucking dirt. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  She licked her lips, and he tracked her pink tongue. “I understand what you’re saying,” she said softly. “I just don’t believe it.”

  Fuck. “Believe it,” he barked, and she flinched in his arms. “I get it’s been hard for you to make connections with people after what happened to you. I’m protecting you, and so you can easily mistake that for…” Shit, he was going to have to say it and watch the hurt flash in her eyes. “For something more.”

  Yep, there it was, like a solar flare. Her lips twisted in pain.

  “I’m not the answer to anything for you. I’m just a guy who plans on keeping you safe.”

  Her expression hardened, and with a burst of energy she swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed and scrambled off his lap.

  Regret sliced throu
gh him deep. He stood up. “Fiona.”

  She was already backing away, eyes bright with unshed tears, body shaking with anger. “Fuck you, Jock.”

  “Fiona,” he said more forcefully, “don’t make this a bigger deal—”

  “How dare you use my past against me? How. Dare. You.” She pointed a shaking finger at him. “You think I’m so weak and starved for attention that I’ll fling myself at any hard dick?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he gritted out.

  “You implied it, and you know it,” she said. “You don’t want me to get close to you? You don’t want this to be anything more than a job? Fine. Tell me. Don’t fucking insult me. You don’t have to hurt me to push me away, Jock. I’ve been hurt fucking enough.”

  Tears leaked from her eyes, and he cursed himself. He’d been stupid, so fucking stupid. He didn’t know how to handle this, how to be a decent fucking human being.

  Her shoulders shook, and a sob burst from her lips just as she turned around to bolt toward her bedroom. He didn’t think. He just grabbed her and tugged her to him, her back to his front. She didn’t even struggle as another sob fell from her lips. “I’m sorry, Fiona.”

  “Fuck you,” she whispered.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in her hair. “That was fucked up of me. I wasn’t thinking.”

  She didn’t speak, but her body shook with silent sorrow, and his heart cracked. If she asked him to let her go, he would, but he didn’t want to. He would stand there all night with her clutched to him if she let him.

  Finally, she heaved a deep breath and said, “I need to go to bed.”

  He squeezed her. “Okay.”

  “I need you to let me go.”

  “Fiona—”

  “You’re sorry, I know,” she said bitterly.

  “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I worded it all wrong. But babe, you gotta understand what I meant. It’s that you are a diamond. Right here, right now, you shine so brightly that it hurts to look at you. I don’t want you to go digging at me, thinking we’ll match. We’ll never match. We’ll get you out of this, and then you’re free to find and meet someone that’ll shine with you, rather than dull what you got.”

  She didn’t respond, and he shook her gently. “Okay, Fiona?”

  She didn’t respond for a full thirty seconds. He counted. Finally she whispered, “Okay.”

  He let her go, making sure she was steady on her feet before he took a step back.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and he registered the hurt in her eyes. He took it, and he accepted it, and added it to the other junk in his soul.

  Then she turned and walked to her bedroom without a word. And he had to live with the fact that she had cried tonight. But it hadn’t been over the movie like she’d wanted. It’d been because of him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jock hadn’t talked to Fiona for a week. A whole seven days. He didn’t go to her apartment, and she didn’t invite him. No more texts about omelets or roasted chicken salad. The silent message was clear—he was no longer welcome in her life.

  When he’d first arrived in Brooklyn to start the job, this had been how it was, and he’d been happy. Talking to people, getting to know them, was not something he enjoyed. He was good at reading people in objective ways—if they were scared or lying. Reading people in relation to how they interacted with him was a whole other story. He wasn’t so good at that, and worse, he didn’t know how to respond. If someone was lying, he could force the truth out of them through various methods—his nickname was because of his brute force tactics, after all. If they were scared, he was usually happy with that.

  But Fiona’s feelings toward him mystified him. Confused him. He’d reacted all wrong, fucked it up, and now she wasn’t speaking to him. That wasn’t okay. Not now that he knew how hot she looked with bedhead and bare feet in her kitchen, how great her laugh was, and how her warm tits felt pressed against his chest. Yeah, he knew all that now, and so he sat in his bare apartment alone slowly going out of his mind as he watched her life from behind a computer. The only glimpses he got of her were when she took Sundance out to the courtyard and when she went to the dog park. She hadn’t left for any other purpose. Everything she needed was delivered to her apartment.

  He’d almost broken down and talked to Marlene to ask her to check on Fiona. He was so close, this close, from pounding on Fiona’s door and demanding she let him in.

  He knew what Fiona had been through. Before he’d shown up in New York he’d researched everything he could, even watched the videos of her. He’d seen plenty of violence in his life so he hadn’t thought watching her assaults would be different. It had been. He’d only watched a few, unable to handle her cries, the way she fought every single time despite the drugs they pumped into her.

  And now…now those images haunted him. He could see them in the shadows of her eyes, like lurking ghosts. He wanted revenge on every man responsible. He wanted to break them bit by bit, slowly and painfully. That was how he consoled himself. Those men were still out there, threatening her, reminding her of how they victimized her. Jock would make them hurt.

  He spun away from his computer and snatched a bottle of water out of a case thrown in the corner. He chugged half of it, the liquid leaking out of the corners of his mouth before he took the bottle and chucked it at the wall with a vicious sidearm. The crack of the plastic and subsequent splatter of water cooled his anger somewhat. Now his bed was wet, though. He should have thrown the bottle against a different wall.

  Fuck it. He wasn’t going to sit here. He had to talk to Fiona. He had to hear her laugh. He had to…fuck, he just had to hold her, if she let him. His willpower had always been solid. Unshakeable. But Fiona was eroding the foundation from underneath his booted feet.

  He looked around his apartment to see if there was anything he could take to her, an excuse to knock on her door. With an annoyed huff at himself, he turned away. That was stupid. He didn’t need an excuse. She’d either talk to him or she wouldn’t.

  He took the stairs down to her apartment. It was getting close to dark so she’d be done working for the day, maybe watching TV. He reached her door and listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door sharply. “Fi, it’s me.”

  Nothing. No sound.

  “Fiona!” he yelled louder.

  He waited a minute—a full minute, he counted—and still nothing. He raised his fist to pound on the door, a growl rising in his throat, when the door across the hall opened. Marlene peeked out, staring up at him. She flinched, and he worked on schooling his face to look less scary.

  “She’s not answering her door,” he said, stating facts.

  Marlene narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Been busy,” he answered. “You want to try to get her to come to the door? It’s important.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Why do you think I did something?”

  Marlene opened her door a little wider and leaned against the frame. “Because your eyebrows are fixed in a permanent scowl, that’s why. And you’re banging on her door with a kind of urgency, like you need to say sorry. Am I right?”

  He turned away and knocked again. “Fiona! I’ll pick the lock!”

  Marlene blew out a breath. “Save your energy. She’s at the dog park.”

  Jock whirled around. “Excuse me?”

  “The dog park.”

  “She doesn’t go to the dog park this late in the day.”

  Marlene shrugged. “She did today. I saw her.”

  Jock didn’t say a word, just turned on a heel and walked swiftly down the hall. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He hadn’t been watching the camera he’d installed in the hallway outside her door. She’d kept the same schedule for seven damn days. Hell, for a solid year. He’d been complacent, and she’d slipped out. But why?

  He’d parked his truck several str
eets away when he first arrived and hadn’t moved it since. His only consolation was that Sundance was with her. Still, Jock picked up the pace until he was all-out sprinting to his truck. He needed to get to her, lay his eyes on her. His skin was itchy, his instincts blaring a warning. He was going to find her, he was going to lay into her for changing her schedule, and then he was going to kiss the fuck out of her.

  * * *

  Fiona wasn’t sure why she’d come tonight. Dinner had been good—she’d made burgers and had some cookies for dessert that she’d found on sale. She’d been all settled to sit down and watch TV but she’d been restless. She couldn’t sit still, and Sundance noticed because he’d whined at her.

  So she’d gathered his lead and decided to take him to the dog park. Along the way, she grabbed an iced coffee. Sundance walked next to her, his furry body pressed against her leg, and as the sun painted the sky in pinks and yellows, she felt content. It’d been a week of mind fuckery, where she’d worked herself up into a lather of anger over Jock, then self-pity over her life, and then depression about her non-existent future. Rinse and repeat. She knew he hadn’t left. He’d promised he would tell her when he did, and sometimes when she was out in the courtyard, she could feel his gaze on her.

  That was it, though. She hadn’t thought it was possible but she missed him. She missed his hulking presence, his huge hands with thick fingers that were surprisingly dexterous, his rumbling deep voice. She still felt protected, but she didn’t have him. And she wanted him.

  She’d typed so many text messages to him, so many dinner invitations that she then deleted. It was better this way. He didn’t want to be anything to her, and so she wouldn’t ask him to be. Still, it hurt. In a way, it felt good to hurt. She’d made a human connection for the first time in a long time. That had to mean something.

  The dog park was crowded. The weather was pleasant so other people must have had the same idea as her. Sundance’s golden retriever girlfriend wasn’t there. Because this wasn’t Fiona and Sundance’s normal schedule she didn’t recognize a lot of the owners and dogs. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk so she kept her mouth busy drinking her iced coffee and retreated away from the main crowd of barking, playing dogs.