Authors: Cheryl McIntyre
Link
I order flowers for Olivia’s grave. I’ve done this every Monday, like clockwork, for over four years. But today, for the first time, I place a second order. A single red lotus to be delivered here at the gym, to Rocky.
Taylor at Forever Florist is shamelessly intrigued. “A single red lotus?” she verifies, her words stretching with curiosity.
“That’s right,” I confirm.
“The red lotus signifies emotional attachment and passion. It symbolizes the opening of one’s heart.”
“Interesting,” I deadpan.
“Who’s the lucky girl you’re opening your heart to?”
I sit heavily, sinking into the cracked leather chair. I pinch my eyes closed and try to suck in a breath, but my lungs aren’t cooperating.
She makes it sound simple.
It’s not
.
It’s difficult as hell. It’s messy and complicated and
twisted
. Open my heart? I don’t have a fucking clue what that means. It implies my heart is a locked door and I’m willingly flipping the latch and inviting another woman in.
That’s not how it happened. Rocky found a cracked window and snuck in. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to kick Olivia out. I don’t think I can ever be ready for that. Not completely.
But now that Rocky found a way inside, I’m not asking her to leave either.
“It’s just a fucking flower, Taylor,” I growl.
“My mistake,” she states flatly.
***
I hook my thumb into a hand wrap and roll it around my wrist as Augie bounces from foot to foot in the ring, pumping himself up.
“Come on, man. You’re getting slow.” He smirks down at me, wiggling his dark brows. “I’m going to kick your arse if you’re this sluggish on the mat.”
I chuckle. I don’t think Augie has ever kicked my ass unless I let him. Sometimes it feels good to get pummeled. Reminds me I’m alive. Sometimes it feels better to do the pummeling. Reminds me
why
I’m alive.
I haven’t been in the ring since the night Carter Bates gave me another scar to match the ones he left me with four years ago. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be sparring yet, but I need this today. Badly.
“Don’t count on it,” I reply. “I just had a late night. Didn’t sleep well. Doesn’t mean I’m not on game.”
His eyes brim with amusement. “So I’ll assume Rocky had a late night as well then?”
We haven’t made any kind of announcements about our relationship, in part because I don’t think either of us really knows what the hell we are to one another, nor are we prepared to discuss it—with each other or anyone else. But it’s obvious we have something going on. We don’t hide it. We just don’t shove it in everyone’s faces. That doesn’t stop Augie from being a hopeful, nosey bastard.
I ignore his question. Any way I answer will prove whatever he’s insinuating. I don’t kiss and tell.
“You going to keep talking or are you ready to box?”
He knocks his knuckles together and nods. “I’m always ready.”
“Then shut the fuck up and put your mouth guard in.”
“The lady doth protest too much,” he retorts.
I flip him the bird and he grins at me while he slips the guard in place. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into everyone prying into my personal life. First the florist, now Augie. If he weren’t my closest friend, I’d nut tap him for that shit.
I suppose I can’t blame people for questioning me. I haven’t shown any real interest in a woman since Olivia. There was Lea, but she was a well-kept secret. A warm body to help me cope when shit got too hard. There was a sort of friendship there, too, I think. A connection due to the tragedy we’ve both endured. But we always knew it was temporary.
Rocky is different. Special. I know that. And so does everyone else obviously.
I block Augie’s attempt to hook my jaw, dipping and countering with a blow to his side. He grunts and I back off, letting him catch his breath.
Movement out of my peripheral catches my attention. I watch the man approach Joe at the counter, vase in hand. The single red lotus is vibrant in the otherwise dull gym. Joe directs the delivery guy to the office and all my focus centers on the door.
Augie takes advantage of my slip and slams his fist into the side of my head. White light bursts through my vision. I take another hit to my chin before I get my hands up, impeding his next attempt. I’m definitely not ready to be in the ring yet.
I grip the rope and spit my mouthpiece to the floor. “Asshole.”
He laughs, unashamed, and shrugs. “Fair play,” he mumbles around the plastic in his mouth. He motions at his eyes with two fingers, letting me know I should have been paying better attention. He’s right, but it doesn’t make him less of a dick.
I rub my chin and work my jaw back and forth. “That was a good hit,” I admit. “Shady as hell, but good.”
“Hey,” Rocky calls. She rests her palms on the mat, leaning toward me. From this angle, I have a nice view of her cleavage, which means Augie does too. I glance over my shoulder at him and of course the fucker is blatantly staring at her tits. I step in between them, cutting off his examination, and squat in front of her.
“I got the flower. I just wanted to say thank you.” She glides her tongue over her lip and inclines closer. “When you’re finished here, come find me so I can say it again.
Properly
.” With that image firmly implanted in my head, she pivots on her heel and strolls away.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until I turn around and see the expression on Augie’s face. Both brows are high on his forehead, mouth hanging slightly ajar. He pops the piece from his mouth and grins knowingly.
“Holy shite. What in fuck’s sake are you doing still standing there? Go get your proper thank you.”
I don’t think there will be anything proper about it.
“Oh, shit,” Augie mutters. “Joe’s staring you down.” He folds his arms over his chest, casually adding, “He’s probably not happy that you bang his baby sister.”
“Fuck off. It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then?” he asks.
I give him a warning glare. “None of your damn business.”
He holds his hands out, trying to placate me. “All right, calm down. I didn’t realize it was like
that
.” Before I can confirm or deny or understand what he means, he goes on, switching rapidly to another topic. “Joe and I met a couple of gym bunnies this weekend. A bit younger than I’m used to, but sweet, and sexy as hell. We’re all going out Friday.”
Well that was just fucking enlightening. I start unwrapping my wrists. My head isn’t into going another round with Augie—in or out of the ring. All I can think about is claiming my
improper
thank you.
“You should come. Bring your girl.”
My head shoots up.
My girl?
He laughs, I guess getting the reaction he wanted. “We’re meeting here at nine. Don’t be late.”
Rocky
I remember the first time I met Link. My initial impression of him was that he was an asshole. Just an arrogant douchebag who hired my brother. That was it.
But there was a vacancy in his gaze that gave me chills. Something about him spoke to me and I knew on some level, he and I were similar. We had both been through something terrible that made us who we were.
I never expected to fall for him. To want him and need him above anything and anyone else. To crave him more than I craved a drink. To hunger for him. For his body, his touch, his closeness.
Not once did I consider one day I would ache to have his affection.
Life is an ugly and wondrous thing. It beats you to a pulp and rewards you for surviving. Over and over, it’s an endless loop of ups and downs. Goods and bads. Pleasures and pains. Gifts and losses. We power through. That’s what we do. We embrace the calm and weather the storms.
Garrett Marshall was a hurricane. Carter Bates was a tsunami.
Linken Elliot is my tranquility.
I bring the red blossom to my nose, inhaling deeply. I’ve never been a flowery kind of girl. Not even…
before
. However, this single lotus makes me feel weepy and emotional. Link spoke volumes with this one gesture. Without a word, he told me he was thinking about me. And that’s one of the nicest feelings in the world.
I place the vase back on the desk just as the office door swings open. Link slips in and flips the lock behind him.
One of the many perks of working here—office sex with the boss.
“Come here.” His voice is soft, low, but there’s a clear command there. It sends an excited chill down my spine, but I don’t comply. Instead, I cock a brow in challenge.
“You come to me.”
He grins, the tiny dimple in his right cheek winking at me. Damn he has a gorgeous smile. I want to do all sorts of dirty things to it.
Link pushes off the door, stalking toward me. He rolls the chair away from the desk, lifts me out of it, and plants his own ass in the seat as he lowers me onto his lap.
“I want you,” he husks. “Right here. Right now.”
“That’s good,” I breathe, “because I want to give myself to you. Right here. Right now.”
His lips brush over mine, teasing. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows exactly what we’re doing in here.”
I shake my head, inching my chest closer to his until there’s no space left between us. “I don’t care about other people.” I slide my tongue over his chin, licking my way into his mouth. He bites down, holding me in place. His hands slip underneath my shirt, fingertips pressing into my back. He sucks hard, prompting me to moan.
My hands sink into his hair, the strands cool and silky. I tug just because I can. Just because I want to touch him. His palms slide around, drifting to the front of my jeans. He pops the button and drags the zipper down. I mimic his movements, skating my fingers down his chest to his belt and work it through the loops. He rolls us forward until my lower back is flush against the desk.
One large hand presses into my chest and I lie across the papers and files. I don’t think he realizes the effect he has on my body—and my heart. Link doesn’t say a lot, but he doesn’t need to. I know everything I need to based on his actions. I hold onto his forearm. Fingernails digging into his flesh. His eyes meet mine and I don’t know what emotion he sees there, but his body shudders and his hand trembles between my breasts. His eyelids fall, concealing his gaze.
I slip my hand down to rest on top of his, quieting the shaking. I watch, mesmerized, as goose bumps race upward, lifting the hairs on his arm. He drops his head, laying it on my stomach. And we stay that way for several long seconds. Just holding on and breathing.
I think he might have seen. I think he might understand what is getting harder and harder for me to hide.
I love him.
I cup his cheek, brushing my thumb over his day’s worth of growth. It’s rough, like his callused fingers. This is what I love most about him, I think. He’s hard and coarse, strong and lethal. He could easily overpower me. Hurt me. He
has
hurt others. But when he touches me, he’s always careful. Gentle.
“I can hear your heart,” he murmurs. “It’s racing.”
For you
.
It races for you
.
Link’s lips smooth along my shirt, the heat of his breath warming the fabric. He stops over my heart, tugging the material to bare my skin. He places a tender kiss there. Moves down, towing the shirt with him. He glides his tongue in a circle, licking my breast before he pulls my nipple into his hot mouth.
I arch off the desk.
He stands.
The next few seconds catapult into a frantic haze of need and desire. I jerk and wrench at his pants, shoving my own off as I go. He hauls my shirt up and bra down. We’re teeth and tongues and panted breath, licking and kissing every inch of each other we can reach.
And then he’s inside of me, making my heart pound harder.
I watch the pleasure on his face as our bodies join, knowing I make him feel that way.
“Link…” I almost say it. I almost tell him.
If I were brave enough, or strong enough, or sure enough, then I’d say it. But I’m not any of those things. Not yet. And so I keep it to myself.
Link
I’m parked outside of Gillian’s, a local restaurant well known for their greasy burgers and other fried cuisine. It also happens to be where Rocky’s rapist works.
I’ve been sitting in the car for sixty solid minutes, trying to talk myself out of going inside. From this vantage point, I have a pretty good view inside, but I’ve only seen a picture of Garrett once. It’s hard to tell which of the male staff is him from this position.
I shouldn’t be here. If Rocky knew, she’d be upset. Pissed off and scared. Emotions I don’t want her to feel. Everything inside of me is telling me to start the car and go to her place. But I can’t make myself leave. The image of the gun is stuck in my head. She said she needed it because Bates hasn’t been sentenced and Garrett is walking around free.
Bates goes to court soon. The fucker didn’t even have the decency to plead guilty like Anthony did. There’s not much I can do until it’s time to testify against him.
But Garrett… He’s right fucking there.
I could do it. I know I could. I’ve done it once before. The guilt of my actions eats at me every minute of every day, but I’d gladly carry more to lessen Rocky’s burden.
If he’s gone, she can feel safe. And I will have given her that.
My fists crush the steering wheel as I force myself to stay in my seat.
This is fucked up.
I’m
fucked up.
I was stuck. For years, I was rooted in place. My only thoughts—no, my only
purpose
—was finding retribution for Livie. Her death came as a shock. One minute, we’re together, walking hand-in-hand, happy and in love. My life was close to perfect. The only thing missing was a ring on her finger. The ring I never got a chance to give her because the very next minute, four men stepped in our path.
I made the conscious decision to keep Bates alive. I gave vengeance up for Rocky.
Now I have no purpose.
What the hell do I do with myself?
If I can’t even make her feel safe, what is my reason for being here? Why did God take Livie—someone who could have done so much good in the world had she only been given the chance—and instead, leave me? Why?
Why?
I thought I was here to help others. To keep others from making the mistakes I did. Make them stronger. Teach them how to protect themselves.
I can’t even protect Rocky properly.
But getting rid of Garrett is a start.
I know if I kill him, I could very well lose her. If I
don’t
kill him, I could very well lose her.
There was a time she wanted him dead. She was ready to do it herself, but I stopped her. I didn’t want her to feel what I felt—still feel. The responsibility and consuming remorse left behind after taking a life.
It’s a life.
He’s
a life.
He’s a shitty, worthless excuse for a life, but a life all the same.
I hate feeling this way. I don’t want to be helpless.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I finally release my grip on the wheel. Rocky’s name flashes with a text, reminding me where I should be right now.
Dinner’s ready
.
I feel my brows lift in surprise. Rocky hasn’t made a meal since I met her. Unless you count pouring milk on cereal—which I don’t.
You cooked?
Hell no. I ordered out.
How domestic of you.
I’m Suzie Fucking Homemaker. Hurry up before I eat it all.
I’m on my way. Save room for dessert.
By dessert, do you mean your penis?
I laugh, the sound erupting in the silent car. It surprises me and I rein it in immediately. This is all so normal. The texting, the dinner plans, the flirting. Everything besides the fact I’m sitting in my car, outside of Garrett’s place of employment, trying to talk myself out of murdering him.
I don’t know how to do normal anymore. She makes me want to try though. So I try.
Or any other body part you want. Just name it.
Hm. All of them sound pretty good.
Then they’re all yours.
As soon as I send it, I ponder the truth of it. How much of myself belongs to Rocky?
It feels wrong to let go of my anger for Livie’s death or to replace the pain with joy. Letting Livie go seems like betrayal. Keeping her feels like deceiving Rocky.