The Beast of Boston

by JL Mac

  “Oh, thank you,” I nod looking at the movie passes and gift card to the French-Vietnamese restaurant I mentioned to him once. The restaurant looks out over the water and the view makes me think of the view from Carrick’s bedroom…

  Stop.

  I clear my throat and tuck the card back into the envelope and put it into the pocket of my bag. “Thank you, Nick.”

  “Ena,” he says, his voice dropping low. “Let me take you out,” he doesn’t ask this time and there is something alluring about his demand.

  Reminds me of you know who.

  I squint my eyes at him and relent even though he’s the owner of the gym I go to which makes this entire thing as cliché as it gets. “Okay. Yeah. When?”

  “You free tonight?” Hopeful anticipation glitters in his amber colored eyes and I feel a tug of … something where my heart used to be.

  “Uh—yeah. I guess I am.”

  “Pick you up at six?”

  I nod knowing that this is a bad idea. If things go anywhere with Nick, I’ll likely sleep with him only to be disappointed that he isn’t Carrick. Nick is a Prince Charming. He’s no Beast.

  Stop.

  Months. It’s been months since I’ve laid eyes or hands on the man that destroyed me and very little has changed for me. He’s an ache. The ghost of happiness sneaking through my mind, tormenting me with lost possibilities. I still hate him because I still love him. Perhaps Nick will be a great distraction. Maybe he’s just what the doctor ordered.

  I make it back to my apartment and find it empty. Lan doesn’t spend free time in the apartment sitting around idly, which is either a good thing or a bad thing. The jury is still out on that. She has a part time job now, working at some law office cleaning out office trash bins and dusting silk plants. She doesn’t particularly like it but she also doesn’t want to return to school just yet. It’s only been just over five months since Carrick and Murphy plucked her from destruction.

  Carrick.

  Stop.

  I swallow and hurriedly fish my apartment keys from the mess that is my bag. I stop cold when I spot an envelope from the apartment landlord wedged into the doorjamb. I pluck it free and unlock my apartment while opening the envelope. A receipt slides out.

  I grit my teeth and growl. I rush through getting ready for my dinner with Nick if only to occupy my mind. When will I be free of Carrick? I fix my earrings and dab perfume behind my ears then settle down in front of my laptop and get to drafting an email to the property manager explaining the transaction was a mistake and they should issue a refund to Mr. Ferguson. I alone pay my own fucking rent. Of course I spare her the colorful language but my point is no less clear. I slap my laptop shut and write the check for this month’s rent and tuck it into my wallet. I will slip it in the night drop box on my way out with Nick. I may be struggling financially, but I am making it work.

  Nick is a gentleman and he’s funny. He’s handsome and charming and even a little alpha male. If my full attention were directed at him I think maybe I’d be willing and ready to roll in the sheets with him, but charming and handsome as he may be, my mind continues to drift the entire time we have been at this restaurant, which, to my dismay, only heightens my already dwindling attention span. My eyes keep searching the skyline for lights coming from the penthouse over the harbor that I know belongs to the man I can’t root out of my life. Carrick. Carrick. Carrick. Everywhere! He’s in my mind. He’s in my heart. He’s in the damned restaurant. He’s even in the sex appeal radiating off Nick. I try to imagine spending tonight with Nick—a birthday present to myself but even that small fantasy does not remain untouched by the memory of Carrick. I picture Nick over me and my mind immediately drifts to Carrick. I see his face. His turbulent gray eyes. His skillful hands playing across my body. His sinful mouth drawing me to release. His muscles corded and flexing with each merciless thrust. His steel length slamming home without apology for the pain that mingles with ecstasy so intense it makes me delirious—drugged on his passion. His creased brow as he comes with an aggressive growl…

  Stop.

  “You okay?” Nick asks, jarring me from my scandalous thoughts.

  “Hmm? Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” I swallow hard and scramble for something coherent to say.

  “You seem distracted,” he accuses quietly, leaning further into his chair across from me, studying my face that I am fully aware is flushed pink. I sigh and sag in my seat. “Level with me, Ena.” His eyes are sincere and compelling. My eyes hone in on his fingers mindlessly spinning his butter knife in circles on the glossy tabletop. I consider what to say for a moment then decide to damn it all to hell. It may be nice to vent to someone.

  “Fair enough,” I say and straighten my back and confess. “I’m on the rebound. Bad.” I say it in a rush and immediately feel a touch lighter. Nick narrows his eyes slightly and then his entire energy shifts.

  “Fair enough,” he repeats my words with a small smile. “Did you end it or did he?”

  “He did.”

  “We’ve all been there, I guess.” Nick nods and we sit in silence for a long moment.

  “Yeah,” I mumble and look at my hands in my lap.

  “Ena do you find me attractive?”

  “Ah… yes. You’re a very handsome man.”

  “Thank you. Would it help if I were honest with you too?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I want very badly to fuck you.”

  “Oh?” I squeak.

  “If it suits you, we can ditch this whole pretense of awkward first dates and get down to what I am certain we will both enjoy very much. Nothing like a good rebound fuck to heal the broken hearted. Let’s start there and play this,” he motions his hand between the two of us. “… by ear.” He says it with such dark promise glinting in his eyes, I automatically feel so much more attracted to him.

  “I can’t even believe you right now,” I laugh hard, clutching my stomach. I laugh loud and genuine and it’s the best feeling. Nick shrugs, smiling devilishly, refusing to look apologetic for his brute honesty.

  “I had a feeling I was right about you.” He wags his index finger. “You aren’t the typical hearts and flowers kind of woman,” he declares.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Go home with me,” he implores.

  “Yes,” I nod. Nick wastes zero time signaling to our server to bring the check. I swallow hard and admire the man right in front of me while devoting a significant amount of energy to ignoring the one who is just there in my mind. He’s always just there. He still has his men watch me too. On occasion, I catch my little shadows lurking around which is hilarious considering I am the police officer and they are the criminals. I am supposed to be the one in pursuit not the other way around.

  Nick grabs my hand as we make our way out of the restaurant like it belongs to him. I’m taken aback but I have to admit that I like this forward and authoritative Nick more than I like the boy next-door version. It’s no secret why, but I don’t care. Nick can be my Band-Aid on a bullet wound for the night. I need this. We make it to his place less than thirty minutes later and he hurries around his car to open my door. He plucks me from the seat and hurries us into his home. The minute we walk through the front door, Nick tosses his keys onto a table by the door and swings me around to slam into his body. His mouth descends on mine in a flash. He backs me up against the wall and lifts me, prompting my legs to wrap around his lean waist. Memories of Carrick holding me against the wall flash into my mind like snapshots flying through mid air. Nick’s tongue slips past my open lips and slides against mine eliciting a moan from me. He rolls his hips into me and we claw at each other frantically tugging at buttons and zippers.

  “Damn, you’re amazing,” he says against my lips. I smile and keep quiet, demanding that he keep kissing me because as wrong as it is, when his mouth is on me, I can pretend it’s Carrick. He doesn’t taste like him. He doesn’t smell like him and he doesn’t come close to giving off the same level of dangerous
allure but he is a fine substitute. Pair a new fling with my dark little addiction to playing vigilante when the opportunity arises, and maybe I will forget about Carrick in no time. This could be a solid plan. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and I come alive.

  Nick expertly frees one breast from the lace cup covering it. He kisses the swell of my breast then draws one taut nipple into his mouth and sucks hard then nips at my flesh.

  “Ah,” I moan and roll my hips against his hard length. The sound of buzzing comes from his pocket and it distracts me.

  “Ignore it,” he says against my neck and so I do. I redirect my attention to the wetness gathering at my center and the heat growing between our bodies. The buzzing stops just to begin again. Nick growls his irritation but doesn’t stop licking his way across my breasts. The buzzing ends and begins all over again.

  “Must be important. Answer it while I go to the bathroom,” I insist breathlessly. He groans and carefully, eases me down to my feet and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He barks into the phone and silently points directing me toward his bathroom. I smile and nod.

  I lick my lips and peer at my reflection in Nick’s bathroom mirror. My cheeks are flaming red. My shirt is half unbuttoned. My hands are shaky. I take a deep breath and blow it out. I use the toilet and wash my hands all while trying to avoid my reflection. Seeing myself so worked up by another man somehow feels dirty… like a betrayal to the asshole I am desperate to forget. As I open the door to the bathroom Nick is standing there in the hallway with wide eyes, his keys in his hand and his clothes smoothed out.

  “We gotta go,” he says handing me my purse as he ushers me forward by my arm.

  “What? Why?”

  “There’s been a fire at my gym,” he says looking like he may be ill.

  “Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry. Go! I’ll get a cab.” He groans and runs his hands through his hair looking torn. “Really, go! I’m a big girl. I can get home just fine,” I smile encouragingly.

  “You’re coming back to my place again,” he declares firmly then kisses me once more before leaving me on his front steps. I wave and silently wish him luck.

  What in the hell could have caused a fire to break out at a fitness gym?

  All thoughts on the subject are cut short by the appearance of a familiar black Mercedes pulling away from the curb along the opposite side of the street. Murphy’s driver’s side window slips down and as casual and devoid of emotion as ever he raises a brow. I flip him off. From this distance it is difficult to say but I swear I saw the edges of his lips tilt upward in what could be a smile. Well… Murphy’s version of a smile I suppose.

  Fuming and sexually frustrated, I clench my teeth and ball my fists. I have had it with Carrick and his little cronies. I whip my cell phone out and consider calling Lan to come get me but I don’t want her going anywhere near my next stop. I request a cab and wait for my ride. The cabby pulls along the curb and prompts me for a destination.

  “Eden,” I say decisively.

  “Eden… like the titty bar?” The cabby is a young white guy with a ratty looking goatee hanging from his thin chin like it was floating by and somehow got caught up there. His shirt is ten times too baggy and his thin arms swim in the gaping armholes.

  “That’s the one,” I confirm. He smiles wide and waggles his brows like a sleazy teenaged boy with his first dirty magazine.

  “Well at least one of us is gonna have a good time tonight.”

  “Yeah. A real good time,” I grit.

  Eden is busy as always. I deposit cash in the cabby’s palm and slam the passenger door. I march across the parking lot, my heels clicking against the concrete.

  I breeze right past an entourage of men standing in the open foyer of the club. Tiny is at his post, earpiece in place. “Tiny,” I say marching past him.

  “K.O.,” he says as cool as ever in that ridiculous baritone voice of his that makes me think of a cartoon character. As I walk further into the club, I can hear Tiny speaking into his radio. Good. I hope he’s fully aware that I’m here. I go over to the bar, and take a seat, waving at Smitty, the bartender. “Hey K.O.” I want very badly to bite his head off and tell him not to call me that but I’d have to supply my real name and none of them know me. Not anymore. It’s been many months since I was last here. It feels like a lifetime ago.

  “Double whiskey. Neat.” I opt to just order and not correct him about the stupid pet name I acquired when I was working here. He nods and serves me. He too has an earpiece and he eyes me, a knowing look on his face. I gulp down the whiskey and gather myself for the confrontation I know I’m provoking. A warm palm comes down gently against my back and I smell him before I even turn to look at him.

  “Ena,” he says low, his breath dancing across the shell of my ear. “Did you come to say hi?” He pulls on my arm urging me up from my seat. I follow him silently as he leads us into the hall I’ve walked down so many times. I jerk my arm away.

  “Let go,” I grit. Carrick clenches his jaw and growls, snagging my arm in a bruising grip and yanking me forward like a petulant child. He shoves me into his office and slams the door, locking it behind him. “What in the fuck was Murph doing tailing me?”

  “Ask Murph.”

  “Bullshit! You sent him. You’re spying on me and have been for months!” I yell with no concern for who hears this argument.

  He leans close to me, sniffing me like some animal. “You stink like cheap cologne,” he growls then returns to the back of his desk and gracefully sits down in his plush leather chair all the while neither confirming nor denying my accusation.

  “Nothin’ to say?” I yell, my voice elevating in pitch. He says nothing. His stormy gaze just lingers on me. His expression is vacant. “Kevin, a small fortune in new furniture, Renee! Spying on me! And just what the fuck is this?” I demand, as I fish the receipt from my apartment out of my bag and slap it down on his desk in front of him. “Paying my entire lease? You don’t even have the balls to end things with me face to face—to say goodbye,” my voice wobbles. “But you’ll pay for my place like I’m your slutty little kept woman? Fuck you, Carrick!” I scream at him, knees shaking with pent up fury and emotion. “Fuck! You!”

  “Happy birthday, Ena. Been out to celebrate?” His eyes rake over my dark blue top, which is still a mess thanks to my brief make out session with Nick. His eyes drift further, scanning my fitted black skirt and heels causing me to tug at the hem.

  “That’s none of your business. What I do, where I go, and with whom is none of your business,” I speak condescendingly slow. That hit the mark. I watch his jaw harden and his eyes narrow.

  “You’re in quite the mood. Did lover boy’s sudden disappearance ruin your night or something, Ena?” My eyes hone in on the small blue lighter he produces from his desk drawer. The smug tilt of his lips is his tell, letting me know everything.

  “Oh my god. Tell me you didn’t start that fire,” I whisper quietly closing my eyes against the prospect. He says nothing. He doesn’t deny or confirm it not that I expected he would. “You’re insane. Absolutely insane. Goodnight, Carrick. Have a nice life and stay the hell out of mine. My life is mine. Not yours,” I say, suddenly very tired. I turn on my heel more than ready to make my way home to my bed and maybe a pint of ice cream. Carrick bolts from his seat and rounds his desk in the blink of an eye.

  “You say your life is yours and not mine, but isn’t it Ena? Isn’t it mine?” He growls with his face perilously close to mine. I could move a half an inch forward and find his lips. “I asked you a question.”

  “Yeah well I thought my life was yours too but you proved me wrong when you had Murph take out your trash while you completely ghosted on me.” I shake my head at my own pathetic circumstance. “I’m not some plaything for you to bat at when you get bored. I don’t want your money.”

  “You aren’t making shit at the police department,” he explains like it makes all the sense in the world for him to supplement my income.

&nbs
p; “I don’t want your money!” I scream, shaking with anger and hurt.

  “Then what do you want, Ena?” He lifts his hand and tucks errant hairs behind my ear and searches my face in that way he does. It’s the sort of look when someone knows what you’re thinking before even you do.

  “I think you know exactly what I wanted,” I confess quietly. “But you wouldn’t give it and I can’t have that now anyway, so there’s no use discussing it. Just let me go,” I whisper. He closes the space between us and his lips meet mine coaxing and reverent. It hurts. Feeling this kiss, the one he took from me, is torture in its sweetest form. I tremble in his grasp, pleading for more and begging him to stop all at once.

  “I did,” he says softly as he pulls away from me. His hands are cupping my face tenderly… lovingly. It’s warm and gentle and safe and… home and it absolutely kills me.

  “No you didn’t. Not even close.” I hurry out of his office before he can see the tears I’m choking on.

  “All units in the area of Somerhurst and Thorn please respond to a vehicle accident. Caller reports the vehicle is on fire. All units respond.” The disembodied voice of the dispatcher crackles over the radio.

  “Let’s go,” Steve, my partner says hitting the lights and sirens.

  “Ten four dispatch. Unit one nine seven en route.”

  “Ten four, one nine seven.” Steve drives like an old pro though he has only been on the force for five years. It takes us maybe sixty seconds to make the short drive from six blocks west of where the accident has taken place. Steve rolls the cruiser to stop at an angle to block any traffic and we are both running to the car that is at least seventy five percent engulfed in flames. I instantly recognize the car as belonging to a woman—a junkie we arrested only a couple weeks ago on a minor possession charge following a traffic stop. She was so blitzed out of her gourde she was idling down the street, completely passed out, rolling through intersections one by one and narrowly escaping a serious accident. We assess the scene on the fly and automatically he goes to the driver’s side and I dive for the person I can see through the flames in the back seat. It’s a small person…