by Emelia Blair
I wonder if she’s realized how involved I’ve become in both hers and Max’s life. I’m always there to pick her up after her night shift and when she asks when I sleep, I don’t tell her that I don’t sleep that much. Nightmares haunt me once my eyes close and I much prefer her presence as compared to those dreams of blood and regret.
As I help Max with his homework, I catch Tracy watching us every now and then, a strange expression on her face. I wonder what she’s thinking. It also surprises me someone like her hasn’t been nailed down by someone.
I get the opportunity to ask her this once Max runs off, finished with his homework. He wheedles a promise of playing some football with him before I go.
“Tracy?”
“Hmm?” She’s slicing some bell pepper and she doesn’t look up.
That gives me the confidence to ask, “This may sound rude but how come nobody has put a ring on your finger yet?”
Tracy pauses and then looks up. She doesn’t look offended in the least, just calm. “I haven’t let anyone.”
“How come?”
“Why?” she asks in a somewhat mocking tone. “You interested?”
Her taunting tone puts me on edge and I find myself tilting my head to study her. “What if I am?”
I see the shock on her face and then a sharp awareness as she swallows. But she doesn’t back out, narrowing her eyes at me. “Then, I’ll have to hose you down.”
I let out a laugh, and reach out and pull her into my arms. “Really?” My tone is playful and she relaxes as I bracket my arms around her waist, holding her effectively a prisoner. “You’ll hose me down?”
“Yes, I will.” But her breathing is unsteady as she says it and her eyes are darkening. “I don’t trust men.”
“Does that mean you don’t trust me as well?”
“You’re different from the other men I’ve met in my life,” she says, pinching my cheeks. “You’re adorable and cute.” She turns her head to give me a wink.
“I’m a man,” I point out, insulted. “Look at my body.”
She puts her hand on my bicep and grins. “Ooh, so big.”
My smile slides off and I pull her closer. Gone is the playful atmosphere and there’s something heavier in the air, a dangerous desire.
“I have to put my son first,” Tracy murmurs, not protesting about how close I am to her.
“I know.”
“A relationship is the last thing I need at the moment Duke.” Her voice is a little husky.
“I like your kid and I like you, as well. Both of you are becoming very important to me, Tracy. And it’s scary. It’s something new to me.”
She shakes her head as her hands clutch on my shirt, and she begs. “Don’t do this, Duke. I can’t afford you.” While she’s staring me straight in the eyes, her mouth is descending on mine brushing over my lips. It’s hot and wet.
My heart decides to skip a beat not expecting her to kiss me. I take in her hypnotic floral scent that is driving me crazy and taste her lips. I pull her in claiming her mouth at the beginning softer, later more intense. A moan escapes her lips and while her knees give in, she clutches my shirt harder. My whole body is washed over by a wave of warmth. My hand goes over to her hair taking control of the kiss. She lets out a needy whine which leaves my self-control in tatters.
Seconds or minutes later, we finally move apart for air.
She looks flushed, her mouth red and puffy from my kiss while her eyes look dazed. “This is not happening again.”
I have to smile at how she can’t seem to stand on her feet. My hands are on her waist as I steady her. “Of course not,” I agree amiably. Then I lift my hand, push back her hair, liking the way her face turns red at my touch. “I really do like you, Tracy. Way more than I think you’ll let me.”
She pulls away from me but there is a troubled expression in her eyes.
I leave the room to give her some space to sort out her thoughts, needing some air to cool my own head off as well.
What the hell am I doing?
6
“Why is Tracy ignoring me?” I complain to Kendall, who’s sitting in the back of the car as we both wait for Caleb.
She’s on her phone. “You two make me want to gag.”
“Why’re you such a bitch?” I demand.
“Because it’s seven in the morning and Caleb is forcing me to go with him and he’s being a little bitch as well.”
“I heard my name.” Caleb slides into the car, giving Kendall a bland look.
She doesn’t say anything, just glares at me.
“You should just go on and sleep with Tracy,” he says, when no one offers any information.
I blink at him.
“The car intercom was on,” he points out, dryly.
“Don’t tell him to sleep with her!” Kendall growls. “You sick pervert.”
“I’m your boss.”
“We’re not at the office.”
I roll my eyes at them and drop them off at the airport. There’s an envious pang in my heart as I watch Caleb take Kendall’s bag even as she protests.
Tracy has been actively avoiding me ever since the kiss. I still go around because I pick up and drop Max off from his practices, since we’re going together. His coach broke his leg and Max volunteered me. So, me and another parent are acting as volunteer coaches until the coach recovers.
I don’t mind.
I enjoy spending time with Max. He’s becoming very important to me. Today as I dropped him off to school, he had seemed a bit down and I had asked him why.
“How come everyone has a dad but me?” he had asked, looking miserable.
I hadn’t known what to say to him, so I just nudged him. “I don’t have a dad either, buddy.”
He had looked up at me and had asked me in a small voice. “Why can’t you be my dad? You like my mom, don’t you?” He looked so innocent and vulnerable in that moment.
My heart had gone out to him as he woefully stared at me. “Your mom and I are only friends.”
“But you can be my dad!” Max had insisted, earnestly. “Flynn got a new dad, so why can’t I?”
How did one explain to a five year old that his mother had a distrust of men and I feared falling in love? “Tell you what.” I had compromised. “Why don’t I be your big brother for now? You can tell me anything and we’ll play games and I’ll help you with your homework and everything.”
“You’ll even take me out for ice cream?” he had asked, doubtfully.
I had rubbed his head, promising, “Two scoops of ice cream!”
The conversation still burns in my mind and as I pull into the garage, I spot the gloves in the backseat and something strikes me. I could use those to strike up a conversation with Tracy.
I miss her.
Gloves in hand, I enter the elevator and stare at my image in the glass, practicing aloud, “Hey, I haven’t talked to you in so long. Do you want to—“ No, that just sounds weird. “Want to get some coffee?” That sounds like I’m hitting on her. That’s what got me in trouble the first time. “Max forgot these. While I’m here, mind if I hang out a bit?” That sounds like I have no friends.
“Hey,” I tell my reflection in the elevator’s mirror. “Just say hey. Hey is good. Hey is normal. Everybody says hey.”
I groan loudly as the elevator door opens and I make my way to Tracy’s apartment. A knock on the door and then I wait.
Tracy’s voice comes from the other end, “Who is it?”
I frown at how frail it sounds, almost beaten down. “Tracy, it’s Duke. Open the door.”
There’s a pause from the other end and then she says, “I’m a little busy right now…”
Her voice is unsteady and alarm bells start ringing in my head. “What’s wrong? You don’t sound okay.”
“Nothing. Everything’s fine. Go away, Duke. P-please.” Her voice cracks at the please.
Something cold unfurls within me. ‘“Tracy, you’re not okay. Open the door.”
“I’m fine!”
“If you don’t open the door, I’ll get the master keys and open it.” I put my hands on the door, wishing I could reach out to touch her and make sure she’s all right. “Please, Tracy. I just need to see if you’re okay.”
There’s a long pause and I hear the click of the door.
Before she opens it, she says, “You can’t overreact, okay?”
I make no such promise and the minute the door is open and I take a look at her face, I suck in a deep breath.
My anger is cold, ice is in my veins as I take in the bruises on her face, the black eye, the split lip. My hand reaches out to grasp her chin and she lets out a quiet gasp as I tilt her head up to study her injuries. “Give me a name.” I say, my tone dangerously calm.
“Duke, please.”
She looks so fragile in this moment that it pisses me off. Tracy is strong, confident like the calmest waters in a storm. She’s sassy, funny, and she’s like a fucking mountain. Seeing her like this, so broken and small, it makes me want to break something, shed some blood.
It’s really difficult to rein in my temper and I swallow my rage, sliding my hand down to grasp hers, and pulling her along with me. She doesn’t put up much of a fight.
I bring her to my apartment set her down on the couch facing the television and retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom. She’s quiet and still, as my hands are gentle as I clean her injuries, my heart hurting with each flinch and each wince that escapes her lips.
I then speak, “You’ll have to cover all of these, so Max doesn’t see them. I’ll stay with you when you explain to him about what happened. We’ll handle this together. So, don’t worry. He shouldn’t go to school for the next few days. He’ll need to be around you. I’ll take care of everything.”
Tears are welling up in Tracy’s eyes and one slips over her cheek, as she whispers, hoarsely, “Thank you, Duke.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say, harshly. “Paul did this, didn’t he?”
She doesn’t say anything but her eyes give me all the answers, I need.
“I quit,” she says, finally, her voice quiet. “He called me into his office and he—”
I shake my head. “Don’t tell me. Not if you don’t want me to go and kill him right now.” My finger runs lightly over the bruise over her cheek. “I should slit his throat for even putting this look in your eyes.”
“You can’t do anything, Duke!” Tracy looks frantic.
I stare at her, silently.
Desperate, she grabs my arm, “Duke, promise me! Paul has very good connections. He can ruin your life.”
My jaw clenches but I can’t bear to see the fear in her eyes, so I lie between my teeth, “Fine. I promise.”
I apply the bandage to her cuts as I stare at her battered form, feeling helpless. If I want, I can go right now and wring that greasy bastard’s neck but I haven’t been sitting on my hands idle ever since I heard what Tracy has been going through at his hands. No, I’ve been collecting evidence to use, testimonials that will destroy him.
I stare down at Tracy’s dull eyes and decide that it’s time to move upon my plans.
I sigh and sit down next to her, pulling her into my arms as I lean back against the couch, so that she’s sprawled against me. When she makes a small sound of protest, I hold her tightly. “Just close your eyes. Rest a bit. You will feel better.”
She doesn’t pull away, although if she does, I’ll let her go.
However, she doesn’t sleep either.
I can feel her heartbeat and it’s calming down into a steady rhythm, as I run my fingers through her curls, her weight on me, comfortable.
“Thank you,” she murmurs,
“I haven’t done anything,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “You’ve done a lot for us, Duke, for both me and Max.”
“I would do more if you would just let me,” I say, without thinking.
When Tracy grows still and falls silent, I feel frustrated. “Why do you freeze up each time I say something remotely affectionate?”
She pulls away from me and I let her. Her movements are quick and agitated.
I feel a hollowness inside of me as I begin to realize that I have underplayed my own feelings for months now. “You know I love you, don’t you?” My words are heavy as I stare at her back, knowing there is only rejection that awaits me. “I love you and I adore your son.”
Her back is stiff and she doesn’t say anything.
I take a shaky breath, knowing I’m just making a fool out of myself. In her eyes, she has a child to raise and I’m just a driver with no future prospects. I can’t give her that white picket fence, house in the suburbs most women dream of.
Of course, I’m just being bitter and assuming what’s going on in her head. It could be that she might just think that while it’s okay to be friends with an ex-con, but dating one isn’t a good idea. I let my own thoughts batter me, ruthlessly but I can’t take her silence anymore, “If it means anything, I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. It just sort of happened along the way.” I grab my jacket. “I’ll head out first. I’ll pick up Max from school, so you should just rest.”
“Duke—”
I don’t wait to listen to her hesitant words.
I have a feeling they will flay me alive.
7
Paul Orbison is a gambler. He’s also known for harassing and assaulting women.
I lean against the wall in the dirty alley behind a bar that I know Paul is at today, hidden behind a dumpster.
I know the exact number of women that Paul has laid his hands on and whose lives he has ruined over the course of his life. Fortunately, for him, he has an uncle who is very well connected and keeps him out of trouble. Unfortunately, for him—I’m better connected than his uncle is, and I have a grudge against this greasy pig.
I glance at my watch and just as if by clockwork, the back door flies open and Paul exits, his breathing heavy and excited as he pulls a pretty blonde behind him who is trying to escape his hold, sobbing and pleading while looking a little disorientated.
I watch, dispassionately, as he slams her against the wall, just a few steps away from me, and starts muttering obscene filth as he fumbles with his belt.
The woman is pinned to the wall and she’s crying out, begging him to let her go. When her cries increase in volume, Paul grows impatient and smacks her in the face with his ringed hand. The woman’s face flies backwards with the force of the blow and she lowers her head, as if stunned into silence.
Then slowly, she raises her head.
Her eyes meet mine and then she gives me a small satisfied smile.
I move.
I stride forward as Paul is busy groping her and then clutching his sweaty collar, I yank him off the woman who makes a show of falling onto the ground, gasping for breath. I push the stunned Paul against the dumpster and help her up, slipping her a hundred dollar bill, ordering, “Go.”
She moves almost instantly away.
I know I now have ten minutes to do whatever I want before the police show up.
Just like I planned.
I turn to Paul who’s trying to escape and I grab him by his lapels, growling. “Recognize me?”
He blinks and then a different kind of terror seeps into his face. “Y-You—”
“My woman came home with bruises, two days ago. Did you think I wouldn’t come after you?”
Paul tries to escape my hold, and he shouts, “I didn’t do anything. That whore is lying!”
I lift up my knee and thrust it into his crotch, making him scream.
I’m not worried that the people inside will hear us because right now, the bartender is trying to fix the volume control because the music is raging too loudly. It’s going to take him a few good minutes to put the knob back on and lower the volume.
“Why should I believe you?” I ask, pinning the greasy bastard to the dumpster.
“S-she came onto me!” Paul lies
, sweating. “And I pushed her away. But I didn’t hit her. She just fell.”
“How many people that you know of, get a black eye from simply falling down?” My knee is pressed against his crotch.
Now, he’s close to pissing himself. Maybe in a last attempt to save his hide, he goes after my face.
I don’t flinch as his nails rake across my face. I just give him a cold smile and then toss him to the ground.
He scrambles back, a whine escaping his lips.
“You should have left Tracy alone,” I tell him in advance, my entire posture, menacing. “She wasn’t yours to touch.”
The bravado that rises up in Paul is slightly admirable as he spits out, “She should be grateful that I even paid her any attention!”
My smile doesn’t falter as I kick him again in the crotch.
He curls into himself while howling.
I crouch down and study him. “You’ve never really been held accountable, have you? Well, now you will be. The time has arrived.” I grab his dick through his leather pants and twist, forcing him to let out a keening wail, as his face turns white with pain. “I’m not going to leave any mark on you. What I’m going to do is much worse. You’re going to a place where I have a lot of friends who owe me favors. They’re the ones who’re going to hurt you. And they’ll do so for a very long time. They’ll break you until there’s nothing left. I’ll visit you every year and see what’s left behind. And I’ll remind you that all this happened because you put your hands on someone that didn’t belong to you.” As I say all this, my hands are twisting his delicate organ.
He can’t even make sounds anymore. His face is streaked with tears and when I release my hold on him, he sobs out, defiant to the very end, “M-my uncle will finish you! H-he’s a politician.”
“He’s getting arrested as we speak on cases of bribery to the police, the same police that ignored the complaints of every victim who dared to speak out against you. He’s going to have his hands full for the next few years. And every woman that you ever assaulted is going to come forward after tonight.”
