“All right.” I hand her my phone.
She stares at the screen, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh. My. God.”
I press my hand to her cheek.
“Who did this?” she demands.
“Lucas.”
“Why?”
I take my hand from her face. “To teach that bastard a lesson.” My blood is starting to boil over again. Up until this point, I only assumed she’d been raped. Her reaction is confirmation. “When did he rape you?” I can’t let her shut down. She needs to let me share this burden with her.
“Five months ago,” she says coolly. Too disconnectedly. “We’d been dating for a month. I was a starry-eyed little fool—completely obsessed with my quarterback boyfriend. I gained instant popularity, had hundreds of friends, got invited to all the best parties…” Her voice trails off. “Imagine what that felt like for a girl from little old Odem,” she adds.
I nod, but don’t say anything. I want her to control this conversation.
“At first, everything seemed perfect. Flowers, dinners, and parties. Then, one night after a big game, we attended a celebration in Austin. The hottest party I’d ever been to. Everyone was drinking. Snorting coke, popping Skittles, smoking dope. I split a bottle of wine with my girlfriend. I was feeling pretty good when Estevan invited me upstairs.”
I fist my hands.
She sniffs. I hate seeing her cry, but I let her go on. “We kissed a few times and I relaxed. In his twisted mind, once I joined him on the bed, he considered that a green light.”
I close my eyes, trying to block out the vision her words conjure.
“He slapped me around…tore my skirt off and held me down. It was over in fifteen minutes. To tell you the truth, I was so buzzed I hardly remember it.” She curls into a tight ball, facing away from me.
Another wave of fury hits me. I should have destroyed that motherfucker while he was lying on the ground.
Shit.
I’d like to take him out to a field and shoot his ass, leave him for the vultures. “Why’d you stay with him, Marisela?” I ask gently.
She shrugs. “He took my virginity. My mother raised me in a very strict manner—I thought we’d get married eventually. He begged my forgiveness the next morning, convinced me he didn’t know what he was doing because he was so high on coke and booze. I believed him. A few weeks later, things really deteriorated. He humiliated me every chance he got. And no one did anything about it because he was the king of Baylor. After we moved to Austin, his hometown, it only worsened. Estevan Beltran gets his way wherever he goes. Everybody worships him because he can throw a football like a pro. He’s destined for the NFL. Welcome to Texas.”
Not my Texas. Not the place where she lives
now.
I’m sick with hatred for this prick. I groan. She looks at me, her eyes wide and glassy.
“I’m damaged goods, Craig.” Her bottom lip quivers. “Ready to leave me?”
“No, baby,” I murmur. “I’m ready to
love
you.”
Craig Hanson just told me he’s ready to
love
me. His words pierce my heart. I twist around on the sofa. I should be angry—not at Craig, at Estevan…at life…at God. What did I do to earn Estevan’s hatred? Why was I destined to suffer months of isolation and fear? I need to get mad, purge all the pain from my body.
Craig looks alarmed. Maybe he didn’t mean to say what he did. I understand completely. I’m not returning the sentiment. I wish I could say it, but I can’t. Those three little words cost me dearly before. I loved Estevan. As soon as he found out, he stomped on my heart. That will
never
happen again.
I grab Craig’s phone and look at the picture again. It’s a Facebook post.
Crap.
“Using social media as a weapon is pretty underhanded,” I say.
“And effective if you have a few thousand friends.”
I sigh. Estevan has earned it. Whatever fallout he catches as a result, well, maybe it will teach him a lesson. To leave me alone. “Do you think he’ll come back?” I ask.
Craig grips my shoulders. “Maybe.” I look into his eyes; his pupils are dilated. “He won’t get far if he does.”
I’m afraid to ask what he means. I know he has a lot of friends.
Hell,
he used to be a cop. That’s nobility in Corpus. “It’s your turn now,” I say. “Tell me
your
darkest secret.”
He smiles a little. Maybe I worded that wrong. “Tell me the top five” seems more appropriate for a guy with Craig’s background. “Too hard to pick?” I tease.
I swear he looks like a devil sometimes. “You want to know what happened when I was a cop, don’t you?”
I lower my head, ashamed to admit it. Of course I do. What girl wouldn’t? It’s crazy—newsworthy shit. “You’re not proud of it, are you?” I query, worried about the smile on his face.
“No.” It fades instantly. “Far from it.”
I nod. He leans back and crosses his arms. This is the toughest trust-building exercise I’ve ever participated in. My own sister doesn’t know everything about what happened to me—she made some good guesses, though. Putting faith in Craig is hard, but if he’ll do the same, a little tit-for-tat, I might feel better about it.
“I responded to a domestic abuse call. The usual scenario—two frightened kids, a battered girlfriend, and a drunk asshole. The girl was beautiful.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “The attraction was mutual from the moment we laid eyes on each other. Neither one of us said anything. After her ex got sentenced, the case was officially closed. Then I contacted her. The rest is pretty easy to figure out.”
“Is it?” My voice is terse; jealousy pricks my heart.
“Marisela,” he groans. “Please don’t expect me to tell you things that will make you hate me.”
“I
can’t
hate you.” I palm his cheek. How can I? We’re both so deeply flawed. Two imperfect creatures brought together by fate—or something more powerful. I don’t know. “You dated her?”
“Yes.” He looks away. “Her name is Amy. I cared about her and the kids. Enough to stick around longer than I usually do.”
I’ve never seen this behemoth of a man squirm.
My God.
He really liked her. “You cared more than you wanted to?”
“Yeah, how’d you guess?”
Something about the look in his eyes—the change in his breathing. “Not that hard to do with that look on your face,” I answer.
He appears hurt or haunted. Is there a difference?
“Amy’s ex appealed his case. Months later, he was paroled. Guess where he ended up?”
I don’t want to.
“In her bed.”
Should I comfort him? I won’t share my sympathy with his memory of another woman, any more than I expect Craig to help me get over Estevan. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” He waves his hand as if deflecting my pity. “I’m over it.”
Are you?
I ask silently. The thought makes me bite my lower lip. I taste blood.
Crap.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and
see
blood.
“Marisela?” Craig is all over me. He wipes stray hairs from my face and then kisses my injured lip. “She’s nothing to me. None of them are.”
A storm is brewing behind those dark eyes. A big one. Did he love her? He stands, then paces. Next, he stomps to the front door and punches it. It’s metal. When he moves away, I eyeball the fist-sized dent he left. I gulp. Estevan is lucky he’s alive.
“Listen, baby,” he says hovering over me. “Why don’t you take a shower? I’m going to grab a drink at the bar in the lobby. Okay? I need some air.” He’s frustrated.
“Sure.” A bath sounds good. And if he needs a breath of fresh air to clear his head, who am I to stop him? He leans in and kisses my forehead.
“If you need
anything,
” he says, “call me.”
He leaves without looking back.
I meet Lucas in Durty Nelly’s Irish Pub. It’s crowded. We find two empty stools at the bar, and I order a whiskey sour. “Where’d you dump the bastard?” I ask.
“Shavano Park,” he answers between sips of beer. He reaches inside his jacket pocket and then slams a cellphone and wallet on the bar. “Here.”
I open the wallet and take out Estevan’s driver’s license. I stare at his mug shot, antipathy swelling inside me. “Was he still unconscious when you left him?”
“Out cold.”
I watch him open his own wallet, then grab a twenty. His gold badge flashes before he shuts it. I’m envious.
“Want it that bad?” Lucas asks.
I stare up at him. “Yeah.”
He orders two shots of tequila. “Then fix it. Apply to Lake Jackson P.D. and come to work with me. Or I’ll write a letter of recommendation to whatever department you choose. Anything you need, bro.” He studies my face. “The girl? You’re in love with her?”
I tap my fingers on the bar. “That obvious?”
He laughs.
Impossible to hide it. I smile. I really am, damn it. I never thought it would happen. “Did you do the background check?” I change the subject.
“Two underage D.W.I.s and a recent assault charge. His daddy is on the city council—well connected.”
I scratch my head. “How’d you access his juvenile record so fast?”
“Friends.”
I have a collection of those types of connections, too. Police enforcement has its privileges and I miss them.
“I don’t think he knows what hit him yet,” Lucas comments. “By the time he gets back to his hotel and checks Facebook, he’ll figure out what happened.”
The bartender serves our drinks and then swipes the money off the bar. I swallow mine down, the alcohol burning my throat. “Shit.”
Lucas chuckles. “Hitting the races Sunday?”
I consider it. I’m not sure Marisela will be in the mood. “That’s not up to me,” I say. “Whatever the lady decides.”
“I understand.”
After we shoot the shit for a half hour, I stash Estevan’s wallet and phone in my pocket, then walk Lucas to the lobby. “Visit soon,” I say. We fist bump and he leaves.
I’m in no hurry to go upstairs. Not sure what to do with all the nervous energy I have. Any other time, I’d have sex. I walk outside. The temperature has dropped. I watch a riverboat skim by. I planned on taking Marisela for a ride tomorrow. I wanted her to enjoy the weekend, but now it’s ruined. That bastard ruined our holiday. I pull Estevan’s wallet out and toss it in the water. I memorized his vitals. Name, address, phone number…“I’m coming for you,” I whisper.
I march past several couples holding hands and kissing, immediately regretting leaving Marisela alone. I check my watch. It’s one a.m. Too late to be wandering around when I have a beautiful woman waiting for me upstairs.
I head back to the hotel.
Where’s Craig? I’m bathed, dressed to seduce him, and sitting in a hotel room in San Antonio, alone. I fidget with the bracelet he bought me. Wined, dined, and nearly kidnapped…
My God.
Another testament to the poor choices I’ve made.
Is he afraid to be near me because he thinks I’m too terrorized to make love? I’m not. After what Craig did…I’d nearly lost all hope after Estevan threatened to drag me to his hotel. With a knife aimed at my stomach, what else was I going to do? One kick and Estevan wilted. A grim memory surfaces…three months ago.
I’m staying the night at Estevan’s parents’ house after a home game. Estevan arrives late—drunk as usual. I meet him at the front door. He towers over me, groping my breasts and kissing me at the same time. He stinks of sweat and booze. And perfume, but not mine. I recoil immediately.
“What?” he asks.
“Really?” I say. “Do you need me to tell you?”
He shrugs. “Boys will be boys.”
“No.” I refuse to accept it. “I won’t stick around to find out.”
I turn to go, but he squeezes my face between both hands and kisses me, hard. I scream and he shoves me. He’s angry. He staggers toward me, intent on dominating me. My survival instinct kicks in. I punch his nose.
“Bitch.” He cups my face, then stares at me like the devil.
I run into the living room and cower next to his mom, who’s sitting in her favorite recliner. She looks up just as Estevan wobbles in.
“Mom!” he screams. “She punched me.”
Mrs. Beltran eyes me, then casually looks at her son. “Estevan,” she starts, “I’m glad someone did what I’ve been too cowardly to do all these years.” She gives me a reassuring smile and then returns to her knitting.
Estevan is stunned silent, and so am I. I spend the night in the guest room adjacent to his parents’ bedroom, behind a locked door.
Suddenly, the hotel door opens and I scramble out of bed. I left the light on in the living room. It’s Craig. He swaggers, then stops when he sees me. His intense gaze could burn holes in me. “Baby…”
I’m wearing a baby-blue crisscross lace chemise. It leaves little to the imagination. He sucks in a breath as his gaze drifts to my breasts. “Why?” he asks as he swoops and pulls me against the muscled length of his body. “I can’t get enough of you, Marisela,” he whispers against my cheek. He gathers my long hair in his hands and kisses me, his tongue gently flicking along the seam of my mouth. “We don’t have to make love, baby. If you need some time…”
I back up several feet and fist my hands at my sides. He’s afraid to touch me because of the assault. I never wanted it to come down to this. Pity. I’ve dealt with my feelings on my own. When I gave myself to Craig it empowered me—made me feel like a whole woman again.
His rejection is unsettling. I’m overwhelmed by emotions. Passion. Love. Hate. Regret. It all merges inside my belly. Every inch of my body is resisting. I want Estevan gone. “Get him out of my head,
please.
”
He makes a growling sound in the back of his throat, then sheds his coat, shirt, boots, pants, socks, and underwear before he reaches me. I’ve never seen that menacing look before—I can’t move. What’s he thinking? Is he mad at me?
“Do you know what you do to me, Marisela?” He takes a measured step forward, and strokes himself.
I can only imagine. I retreat. “No.”
My gaze sweeps down his body. What pagan god breathed life into him? I shake my head. I want to run my hands and tongue over every inch of his flesh. I’m in awe. His arousal is breath-stealing. I stare at his shaft and giggle mindlessly. It’s so enormous. His chest and arms are thickly muscled, his abs beautifully ripped, and his long legs remind me of marble columns. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about.
“Do you want me to tell you?” he asks.
I’m not sure I can handle hearing it, not right now. He takes another step. I’m standing in the doorway between the living room and bedroom. His gaze devours me—I can barely breathe.
“I’ll show you…” He slides closer, then kneels at my feet. His face is level with my stomach, my crotch. I’m already wet as sin. But the moment I feel his hot breath through the lace barrier of my lingerie, my core tingles and my legs shake.
He gazes up at me savagely. “Stand still.” He grips my thighs roughly, then spreads my legs.
Stand still? Is he crazy? He shoves the material aside and his thick fingers dip inside me. I arch my neck, staring at the ceiling. He starts gently, whispering my name, fingering me until his hand is slick with my juices. He growls—tasting me. His tongue skirts around my center. He nips my lips and I cry out. Then he slowly withdraws his fingers and grabs my ass cheeks. Pulling me against his face, he sinks his tongue inside me, thrusting violently. I writhe and moan, riding him. Just when I start to feel a faint pulse, he deprives me of his touch.
My hips jerk. I don’t want him to stop. “Please, Craig…don’t make me beg.”
“You’ll beg.”
I look down. Something in his demeanor changes. He stands suddenly, suspended over me. I gulp. His mouth collides with mine and our tongues wrestle brutally for control. He cups the back of my head with both hands, nearly swallowing me—sucking me inside him. My hands land on his chest. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I’m helpless. He rips his mouth away.
“
Tell me,
Marisela.” His fingers penetrate me again, plunging deep.
Within a few strokes I’m ready to climax again. He stops. Craig lifts his hand and sucks on his fingers one by one. Next, he gently slides his fingers under my nose. “Nothing smells or tastes as sweet as you,” he says.
It’s incredibly erotic, the scent of my own excitement on his hand. My body is screaming. I want him inside me. I cradle his shaft between my hands, but he gently pushes me away. “What do you want, Marisela?” He forces me back a few steps. There’s no doubt in my mind what I need.
I swallow so loud he can hear it. My gaze zigzags around the room nervously. “I want to get lost in you. Make me forget everything. Get kinky. Tie my hands up—tease me until I can’t think straight.”
He groans. “There’s nothing I’d like better than having complete control, Marisela. But…”
“I’m fine.”
He stares at me like he doesn’t believe me. I need this—living out one of my fantasies with Craig will help me forget. I appreciate his concern, but I’m tired of letting my ex ruin my life. “Please.”