Something had changed. But before Hope could get a read or ask, Jangles spoke. “Go finish closing out, babe.”
“Everything all right?”
“Nope.”
Oh, shit.
“You don’t have to—”
“Hope, do me a favor and finish closing down so we can get home.”
Home?
What the hell?
“Listen, there’s no reason to get wrapped around the axles because men hit on me. Some of them take the rejection and move on nice and quiet. Some are dicks and try to persuade me. Others are total assholes, don’t like the hit to their ego so they say nasty shit. Which I have to tell you as a woman, I do not get. Why a man calls a woman who’s turned him down ugly, fat, or a bitch seconds after he was trying to get in there makes no sense considering I wasn’t too fat, too ugly, or too bitchy to want to bang—” Hope clamped her mouth closed when the low, menacing growl emanated from Jangles.
“Close the bar down, yeah?” he clipped.
That was it, just a not-so-veiled demand for Hope to get the lead out and do what he told her to do.
Hope nodded, turned, and hauled ass to the other end of the bar. She did that while thinking up a way to get out of going to Jangles’ house. A place that was not home, a place she shouldn’t be going to with a man she had to give up.
An hour later, she found herself in her car, Jangles in his truck behind her following her to his house. She hadn’t found an excuse not to go.
Not that she’d tried all that hard.
Chapter 5
Jangles felt Hope jolt awake. He stared into the dark, clenched his teeth, tightened his arm around her, and waited.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
Sorry.
Christ.
She said that every time. Apologized for waking him but offered no explanation.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
Hope snuggled in deeper, pressed her back against his chest as if she wanted to fuse them together.
Enough of this shit.
“Wanna tell me what keeps waking you?”
Hope went stiff as a fucking board. Then a tiny tremor stole through her and he felt it—hell, he could taste it. The stench of fear wafted off of her and filled his bedroom so thick and ugly he instinctively wrapped his body around hers until there was no space between them.
“Jangles.”
His name was not an answer; what it was meant to be was a reminder they didn’t ask personal questions.
Fuck that.
“Beau,” he corrected. “When we’re in this bed, no, when we’re in this house, I’m Beau. You wanna call me Jangles when we’re at the bar, have at it. But here, when my arms are wrapped around you, when my cock’s in you, I’m Beau.”
“This isn’t cool,” she mumbled. However, she hadn’t tried to move.
“You’re probably right,” he easily agreed.
“Please don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Change what we have.”
“Babe, you might have missed this, but I didn’t. We changed a while ago.”
“No, we didn’t,” she denied.
“You got a key to my house? You got my alarm code? You sleep in this bed, both with and without me?”
“That’s because of Buster.”
Fuck, is she serious?
“Right, do you think I’d give my key and alarm code to some woman I was just fucking so she could take care of my cat while I’m gone? Or maybe you think I gave them to you because you’re not some woman I’m just fucking, but more.”
“There can’t be more. I can’t be more.”
Jangles’ gut roiled at the terror in her tone.
“Too late, you already are.”
“It’s not right.”
He decided to ignore that comment, wanting his original question answered.
“What wakes you up in the middle of the night?”
Silence.
“What scares you?”
Silence.
“What has you so afraid that you’re shaking in my arms, Hope? Why are you so—”
“How’d you get this?” She cut him off and trailed her fingers up his forearm next to the line of stitches.
If she wanted to do this—test him, ask him questions because she wrongly thought he wouldn’t tell her, thus proving her point that they were nothing more than fuck buddies—he was game.
Though Hope would find she’d made an extreme error in judgment after Jangles rolled to his nightstand and turned on the lamp, bathing the room in light. Then he rolled back, turned her so they were facing each other, and locked his gaze on her startled one.
She wanted to play, he’d play, but they were doing it with the light on so she could see he wasn’t fucking around.
“Took a knife to the arm when I was clearing a house. Turned a corner and the bastard had his back against the wall and I didn’t see him before he got a good long slice in.”
Hope’s face went pale and her eyes widened. Jangles had no idea if it was because she was shocked he’d told her, or if she was horrified he’d been injured.
“When we finished up and the house was secure, Zip stitched me up and forced me to take some concoction of vitamins he swears speeds up the healing process. As you can see, it’ll leave a scar but it’s healing fine.”
Hope’s gaze dropped to his arm and her brows pinched together.
“Your turn. How’d you get your scar?” Jangles traced the long, jagged mark from below her elbow nearly to her wrist, their scars almost a matching pair.
“Is that why you call him Zip?”
“Not tracking, babe.”
“Zip. Do you call him Zip because he zips you guys up? Is he some sort of medic or something?”
“Nope. Zip is short for Zipper. He’s got a gnarly scar on his thigh. He fell down an embankment when he was a kid and almost died. Would’ve, if his twin brother Sean hadn’t gotten help. The scar looks like a zipper.”
“Geeze, there’s two of him?”
Jangles didn’t want to think about the irrational jealousy that welled in his chest.
“There was. Sean died in combat.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, it is. Sean joined the Navy, Zip joined the Army. Sean’s unit was taken out by an IED. Sean’s death hit Zip hard; not only were they twins but best friends. Destiny was engaged to Sean when he died.”
“What?”
Time for stalling’s over.
“That’s a story for another time. I think you get that I’ve shared, now it’s your turn. Where’d you get your scar?”
Silence.
This time, Jangles didn’t fill it. He let the quiet stretch, his hand on her hip unmoving but heavy. Finally, she broke the stare down and glanced over his shoulder.
He’d give her that disconnect if she gave him the truth.
“My ex, Went, wasn’t a good guy,” she started, and Jangles felt his body tighten. “We were young, I thought he could protect me.” Hope huffed a humorless laugh. “God, I was so stupid. I learned the hard way that no one could protect me, no one could save me, especially not him.”
“He hurt you?” Jangles asked the question but as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted asking.
Fear and pain flashed in her eyes, her lips pinched, and her brows drew together.
Fucking, fucking, hell.
“He hurt me in so many ways, so many times, there are not enough words for me to express what he did to me. The mark he left on my flesh is the least of the damage he did, yet it’s the reminder to never trust my heart. Never forget that I can’t be saved.”
Jangles felt the fury building inside of him. It pooled in his gut, and he welcomed the rage.
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
“Dead?”
Hope’s gaze came back to his and he held his breath. Anguish danced. Dread, panic, alarm, he wasn’t sure if th
at was what he saw in her or felt in his soul. But wherever it was emanating from, it surrounded them, blanketed them under its weight.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how the fucker died, but he couldn’t bear the answer. He prepared to pull them from the heaviness when Hope straightened the best she could and announced:
“I killed him.”
Christ.
“Good,” he blurted out and watched Hope jerk in surprise.
“How is that good? I killed a man.”
Jesus. He never wanted to hear her say that again. Not because it changed a damn thing he felt for her. He couldn’t stomach the pain in her voice.
“I’m sorry you were in a position to take a life. I’m sorry that you have to live with it. I’m sorry it fucks with your head. But I am not sorry you killed the bastard that caused you so much pain that not only did he leave you with physical scars but emotional ones. I know you. You wouldn’t—”
“You don’t know me, Jangles. You have no idea who I am and what I’m capable of. If you did, you’d kick me out of your bed, your house, and your life. You’d be disgusted with the things I’ve done. Don’t pretty up what we have. I am not more. I’m the woman you’re fucking who happens to have a key to your house so I can take care of your cat. Nothing more.”
Jangles didn’t bother correcting her again about using his nickname. With everything she’d spewed, that was the least of what churned in his gut.
“Tell me, Hope, what would disgust me?”
“So much.”
“Try me.”
Silence.
“Baby, if you think you’re nothing more than a warm body in my bed, what do you care what I think? It's not me prettying anything up. You know damn well what’s between us, and it’s a fuck of a lot more than the exchange of bodily fluids.”
“Went killed my parents.” Hope’s features blanked, totally devoid of any emotion and Jangles’ body went taut. “They died because I was stupid. My little brother lost our parents because I got hooked up with the wrong guy. Mom and Dad warned me he was no good. Told me to stay away from him, then they forbade me from seeing him. But, stupid me, I didn’t listen. I kept seeing him. I snuck out of my house, I lied, I was a bitch to Dad and horrible to my mom. I acted like my life was so bad. Poor me. The kids at school made my life miserable until Went made me his girl. Then they stopped—no one messed with Wentworth Collins because they all knew he was crazy. So suddenly, no one was making fun of me, no one was calling me names. It was a night and day difference, and for the first time in four years, I wasn’t afraid to go to school. I knew he was crazy, but I fought to keep him so I wouldn’t get bullied. Mom and Dad died for that. I made my brother an orphan so I wouldn’t get picked on. All because I was a selfish, stupid, stupid, bitch.”
Jangles said nothing, not because there wasn’t a lot to say, but because Hope was visibly wrecked. There wasn’t a damn thing she’d listen to while her emotions were raw and exposed. So Jangles did the only thing he could do. He crushed his woman against his chest and held on as tightly as he could while her pain leaked from her eyes and soaked into his skin.
He’d gladly absorb every last drop of her guilt if it meant she’d let go of it.
“Jangles—”
“No more sharing tonight, baby.”
He let her go long enough to turn off the light, then rolled back and tucked his woman close.
An hour later, Hope stopped shaking. Minutes after that, she fell asleep.
Jesus.
Her parents.
Jangles didn’t sleep, not a single wink, didn’t even move a muscle as he lay holding Hope. He couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes and the depth of pain that shone was burned onto his soul. An emotion he didn’t quite understand swept over him, a tenderness he’d never felt. The desire to protect was ingrained, it was one of the reasons he’d joined the military, but this was different. It was a need. It went beyond obligation and duty.
Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, she’s more. So much more.
Chapter 6
Hope woke up in bed alone and stretched, enjoying the delicious ache between her legs. She rolled to her side, pulling Jangles’ pillow to her face, and inhaled. She did that a lot when she slept in his bed when he was on a mission. That, and she always slept in one of his tees. It made her feel close to him when he was gone. She knew it was wrong, it was too intimate for what they had, but she gave it to herself anyway.
She froze as last night came back in a rush.
Shit.
With her heart thundering and a hurricane of regret swirling inside, she remembered—everything. The nightmare that had awakened her. Always the same dream—her mind wasn’t kind and wouldn’t let her forget a single second of Went murdering her parents. Hope remembered every minute detail, every grizzly moment of Went stabbing them to death. The blood, her father’s grunts of pain, her mother’s cries of sorrow. The blood. All of it forever seared on her heart.
And Hope had told Jangles.
No! God, what an idiot.
Last night, Jangles had been cool about it. He’d let her cry and held her while she’d done it. But today would be different. He was Jangles, which meant he was a good guy, he would never kick her out in the middle of the night, but he would find a gentle way to ask for his key back and tell her they’d no longer be seeing each other.
Shit, that hurt more than it should.
The bedroom door pushed open and Hope lifted her gaze, finding Jangles’ eyes on her. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve chastised herself for being caught cuddling his pillow, but now it didn’t matter.
“You’re awake.”
Her eyes focused on the man before her and that hurt, too. Loose-fitting gym shorts that sat low on his hips exposing the sexy V, and she knew if she followed the path downward she’d find treasure. Long, thick, heavy treasure. His lean torso was cut with blocks of muscle, his chest perfect, broad shoulders, biceps that made her mouth water. Actually, the whole package made her mouth water. Top to toe, he was male perfection.
For months, he’d been all hers—now he wasn’t.
And that hurt so bad she had to close her eyes.
It’s time to go.
She felt the bed depress next to her but she refused to open her eyes. She couldn’t face him, didn’t want to see the disgust or pity. That would kill.
“Hey.”
Hope jolted when his hand cupped her cheek.
No. She was wrong, his touch killed way worse.
“I…um…should get dressed.”
“Baby, open your eyes.”
Slowly, so slowly, she lifted her lids knowing she needed to get it over with but dreading the moment with every fiber of her being.
Why is this so hard?
This was not what they were. Fuck buddies. She was nothing more than his cat sitter and part-time sex partner.
God, I’m stupid.
The breath seized in her lungs when her gaze met his blue eyes. Before Jangles, she’d never seen blue eyes that were so beautiful, so startling. She hoped one day he had kids and they got those blue eyes. The world needed more beauty, and those cobalt blue orbs would certainly do it.
“I was gonna make us breakfast, but I haven’t been to the store since I’ve been home, so I got nothing. Thought we’d hit Twinny’s before you have to get to the range.”
What?
“What’s happening?” she croaked, uncaring her voice sounded like a frog had taken up residence in her throat.
“What’s happening is, I’m gonna feed you before you have to go to work.”
“You don’t have to do this, Jangles. I get you’re a good guy so you’ll try to let me down easy. But really, it’s not necessary, I understand what we were. You’ve been straight with me from the start. I appreciate you being nice last night, but I’m a big girl, you don’t have to do the slow, gentle escape. It was fun, we had a great time, so I’ll just get dressed and leave your key. No need for breakfast.”
&nbs
p; Hope was so focused on delivering the lame speech she hadn’t been paying attention to Jangles’ face. She should have. She should’ve been watching closely. If she had, she would’ve shut her mouth long before she did. She would’ve stopped after she’d called him by his nickname.
But she was lost in her head and missed the change.
“Fun?” he clipped.
“Um…”
“Great time? Escape? Nice? Not necessary? You understand? Leave my key?”
Jangles’ face was granite, each word angry, abrupt. He was pissed, not just mad but—seriously pissed. Before she could ask why, his hand on her cheek slid back into her hair and he fisted the strands, forcing her head back. This didn’t hurt, unfortunately. It caused tingles to race up her spine. But then again, every time Jangles touched her she had the same reaction.
“Right. I see you don’t understand. How’s this for straight? You’re not giving me back my goddamn key. We are far from over. And for the last time, you call me Beau.”
“Um… But we are.”
“No, Hope, we’re not. We’ve just begun. If you think anything you told me last night changes how I feel about you, you’d be wrong. There’s a lot to talk about, a lot I wanted to say last night but you weren’t in the right frame of mind to hear me. Something we’re gonna get straight right now before we go to breakfast is, you are not selfish and you are not stupid. You did not kill your parents. Wentworth Collins did.”
Hope went statue-still as pain tore through her body. Acid churned in her belly and guilt rushed through her veins.
“Don’t,” she spat. “It’s my fault.”
“Babe, it’s not.”
“Let me up.”
She needed to leave, needed to get far away from Jangles and the memory of her parents. The look on her little brother’s face. So much pain and grief, and it was all her fault. Her parents were gone, she ruined her brother’s life, and she deserved every bit of reproach. She was responsible for it all, but her brother—her sweet, smart little brother had paid for her sins.
“No, baby, we’re gonna work this out of you. I’m gonna—”
“No, you’re not. There’s nothing to work out. I am who I am. I killed four people, Beau. Four. There’s nothing I can do that will wash that away. That’s mine. I own it. I remind myself every day so I’ll never forget. I owe them that.”
Hope's Delta (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Delta Team Three Book 5) Page 3
