Lady Killer (Tangled Desires Book 2) (12 page)

“You don’t believe me?” In all my daydreams of having this conversation, never once had I thought he wouldn’t believe me. Hate me for my part in the hit-and-run, definitely, but I always thought he would believe me about Santiago. I cling a little tighter to him, wanting to hold on for as long as I can. Certain that’s going to be no more than mere seconds.

Instead he rolls onto his side, dragging me with him. “Makes perfect fucking sense. The thing I don’t get…” he turns his face to stare at me, “…is how the hell I never noticed you. How did I not see the woman of my dreams right in front of me? I mean, Christ, you would have hung with my crew. You would have literally been right in front of me. In the ring, yeah, I might have missed you, pumped up on adrenaline and focused on the match, but after?”

“I guess because I was different.” It’s true. I’m not the same girl. My face might be the same, except for the lack of makeup where I used to wear a lot, but everything else about me changed. My hair color, my clothes. Even my body got leaner, more muscular, less like an underwear model and more like a fighter, thanks to years of fight gym. “Maybe you did notice me. It’s just I’m not the same as I was then.”

When my hand brushes against his waist I can feel how hard he still is. That he’s delaying satisfaction on his part in order to get into my mind. How he could have fucked everything with a heartbeat and a pussy is beyond me, but I don’t have time to contemplate it.

With a kiss to my forehead, he jumps from the bed and stalks to the door. “I’ll deal with him. You’re not going to have to worry about him after today.”

I’m not sure when I stopped worrying about what Santiago could do to me. Now I’m worried about what Santiago could do to Tom. I worry about whether my heart could deal with Tom being hurt, or, or turning on me. Because Santiago has weapons he can use against me that aren’t his fists. So I yank my skirt into place and race after Tom, straightening my shirt as I exit the room.

Tom

It pisses me off that I still can’t place her from back then. When had I become so unobservant, so focused on the win?

Santiago and I had started chasing our dreams around the same time. He’d been an all right guy back then. He’d been committed to being better than the environment he grew up in. Or at least that was what he said when he’d talked about boosting cars and being a runner for the neighborhood gang to help support his single mother and his siblings. Sure his moral compass had been a little skewed, but it had genuinely seemed like he was planning to overcome it at the start. He’d been nothing like Gem’s recollection. Yet there’d been a feral glint in his eye, a bastardy about the way he approached his opponents that had gotten worse the more popular he became. It had been part of the reason why that last win had been so easy. He’d been riled up before we climbed into the ring. Hot headed and far too angry to remember technique. His attack had been ferocious, wild, and a few well-aimed, well-timed hooks had taken him down.

He was a capable fighter and fast for his size, but I’d been better, faster. Afterwards I’d jumped from the ring and planted a far too enthusiastic kiss on one of the first girls I passed on my way to the locker rooms. It had taken her by surprise, but when she’d responded, I’d pulled away and left her in my dust. Only there’d been something about that girl, and the way she responded to my kiss that niggles at me now. A fucking worm in my brain that won’t let me rest any longer.

I clench the tip of my tongue between my teeth and squat in front of my bookcase, rifling through the photo albums. I should probably get them digitized, but there’s something about how tangible my memories are in this form that keep me from doing so. I pick one out and leaf through it, discarding it quickly and moving onto the next. Pretty soon I have a Jenga pile beside me.

“What are you doing?” Gem asks, coming up behind me as I move on to the next one.

The front door opens and then bangs shut and Mace’s heavy boots thud across the floor. “What’s going on?”

Razer and Claire follow a few seconds later. All of them standing around while I pick up another album. This one has pictures from that fight, from that whole year. My last year.

“Found it.” I jump to my feet, licking my thumb to leaf through the pages until I find her. Stopping dead in my tracks, I stare at the photo.

There she is, stuck behind film in an album on my bookshelf. A part of my past I didn’t even notice at the time. How full of myself must I have been to not notice her back then? No wonder she calls me Lady Killer. No wonder she looks at me and sees a guy whose entire life is led by his dick. I stare at the blonde, glance up at the brunette. They’re the same person, both equally beautiful, but she hides her gorgeous smile from everyone but me now. I’m not surprised I didn’t recognize her. Only her eyes are the same. “Fuck me.”

“Not fucking likely,” Mace says. “You’re not my type.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” I grumble, shoving him out of the way as I move to stand in front of her. I hadn’t paid any attention when I kissed her then. Didn’t even register it was the same girl outside, later that night, on the road. When I clasp her face she flinches the same way she did that first time I reached out to touch her. But how was I supposed to recognize her from that night? “It’s you?”

No one says anything. Even Mace knows when to keep his mouth shut. I stare into her eyes. So fucking pretty without the black shit everywhere and the red dress that had overwhelmed the color of her eyes the first time I truly saw her face. “You were there the night I got hit by that car.”

It’s not so much a question, as it is a statement. I know it’s her. The same surge of anger that used to slam through me when I’d been recovering hits me now. It tumbles into my fists, curling reflexively, and the tightness under my ear from gritting my teeth. I want her to admit it. I want the confirmation.

She dips her head, and when she brings her face back to mine, her eyes shine. “I was there.”

“What the hell?” Mace snarls behind us. He’s beginning to get the picture, and if he didn’t like Gem before, I can’t imagine this is making him like her any more.

“Shut up, fuck face.” I growl in warning. He might not recognize it yet, but this is my girl he’s talking to.

“No one was with you when the ambulance arrived,” Claire says. “Hit and run. The cops said there weren’t any witnesses.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay. He almost killed me that night. I had…” she takes a breath, “… something that could put him away. I took a copy to the police, but some of them are involved. He confronted me, and I knew I wouldn’t get a second chance, so I ran to you for help and when he mowed you down in front of me I knew there wasn’t any other choice but to run.”

I stare into those eyes, the same ones that had been filled with fear that night. She was running then and she’s probably been running ever since. She didn’t lure me onto the road to hurt me, she genuinely thought I could help her. I take a deep breath. None of it was her fault. The blame falls fully on Jimmy Santiago.

I can see the emotions warring on her face. Terror, guilt.

She’s blamed herself for years for what happened to me. Hell, I’d blamed her—even though I didn’t know it was her—at the start. But standing here with her in front of me, I know I could never truly blame her for the way my life worked out. And I wouldn’t want to.

“Good girl.” I don’t think any of them expected me to answer like that, but none of them saw her that night. None of them saw the marks on her, the absolute fear on her face. She’d come to me for help, and I’d been unable to protect her, but she’d gotten out alive. I no longer have to wonder what happened to that girl, because even though she’s still running, I can protect her now. I will protect her.

“So the guy you’re running from is the same guy that mowed down our Tommy?” Razer asks.

“It was my fault,” she whispers, her fingers covering her mouth as though speaking the words is too painful. “You could have had it all. Instead I cost you everything.”

I’m not sure I could give a shit about it. Not anymore, because I don’t want it all. Not the all she’s talking about. I don’t want the fame, the women, or the belts. None of it matters. It’s taken me a while to realize it, but I don’t regret it. Now, I want her. All of her, every damn inch of her, in my life, in my bed. She’s my catalyst, changing my life back then. And again, now. She doesn’t even realize it. All she cost me is a bit of bone and a couple months’ rehab.

Gem

He doesn’t let me go. In front of his whole family he locks me in the loop of his arms, pulling me into the hard wall of his chest. Forgiving me for my crimes against him. I had an idea of how he would react when he found out it was me, but it isn’t this. Anger, hatred, all sort of emotions come to mind, so the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder renders me stunned. I’m pretty sure I gape a little when I realize he’s not going to let go of me.

Mace steps in front of us. The perma-scowl he wears softens a little. “Why didn’t you go home, princess?”

I reel at Mace calling me princess. He doesn’t like me enough, if at all, to talk to me like that. But then again, he was the one who found out the connection between me and my family. “My disappearance was all over the news. What do you think would have happened if I’d run home?”

“More media,” Tom says. “He would have known where you were.”

I nod.

“Surely you had security? They could have put someone on you 24/7.” Mace folds his arms over his chest. “It would have been safer than living in your car.”

Maybe from Santiago, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. “I couldn’t put my family at risk.”

“Is there anything else you care to come clean about?” Mace stares me down, and I find myself turning into Tom, who tightens his hold on me. Not because Mace scares me, but because he sees too much.

“Enough questions. Don’t you think she’ll tell us more when she’s ready?”

“Since she owned up to being there the night you were hit, I thought she might want to get whatever led to it off her chest as well.” Mace says, stalking out of the room. “We better get going. We’ll be late for dinner.”

I’m not ready to admit that Mace is right. That I’m not quite done spilling my guts. These guys might be able to protect me from Santiago, but I don’t know that they can help me in the run long.

“So you’re coming to dinner, right?” Claire asks me, patting my arm. “Nothing big. Just family. It would be nice if you could be there.”

“Okay.” She’s so sweet, taking me at face value when this is the first time she’s met me. I appreciate that more than she could ever know. No wonder Tom is so close to her. So tight with all of them. They have each other’s backs. The craving for a pint of ice cream hits hard, along with the need to call Kaylea.

“We’re going to go pick up Mom and Dad.” Claire takes Razer’s hand, and he grins down at her before leaning in to whisper his lips across her ear, saying something that makes her chuckle.

Then he turns to me. “We’ll get this sorted out. We’ve got your back.”

I fall a little bit, then and there, for Tom’s family. It’s bittersweet, this warmth I feel toward these people I barely know, while I ache for my own.

“Where’s Chelsea? If she’s running late…” Mace grumbles, coming back into the room.

“She said she’d meet us there, tosser.” Razer raises an eyebrow. “You got a thing for her or something?”

“Fuck no.” Mace crosses his arms. “She’s family. Can’t live with them, can’t fucking kill ‘em.”

“Oh shut up, you cranky old bastard.” Razer laughs. “You better be on your best behavior tonight.”

He nods at Claire and grins. “For my baby sister, anything.”

The three of them leave the house, still trash talking each other. “So Mace and Chelsea?”

“Nah. Not a fucking chance,” Tom murmurs against my ear. “Mace would never in a million years cut his brother’s grass. Poor Chelsea dated my oldest brother Rush when we were in high school.”

“Oh. Will he be there tonight?”

“No. He’s not one for coming home.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, because I know how it is to miss a part of you, the way I guess he does Rush.

“Got something to wear to dinner?”

“Formal?” I cringe, praying he doesn’t say yes. The last time I owned a dress it almost got torn off me. Not that the visual of Tom using his hands to undress me as quickly as possible has the same effect on me as that particular memory. I clench my thighs at the rush of pleasure winding through me.

“Not tonight. Though now that I’m imagining you in a dress, I kind of wish it was.”

His hand travels up the back of my thigh, tickling a nerve that makes me squirm against him. His hardness presses to my ass. Does he get turned on as much as I do by the thought of what he could do to me in a dress, or is he always ready to go?

Then he slaps my ass. “Go get ready. Claire might look all pretty and sweet, but there’s a bridezilla lying beneath the surface.”

In the bedroom I empty out my bag onto the bed and find a simple black jumpsuit that almost looks like a dress with its wide shorts, and I decide it will do for tonight. It doesn’t take me long to get into it, brush out my hair, and add a light layer of the makeup I keep for job interviews. Then I go in search of Tom.

He’s stunning. Black suit pants and a white business shirt with rolled up sleeves that hug his biceps and shoulders, emphasising how big he really is. Those arms could hold me up against a wall while he fucked me senseless, amongst other things.

When he sees me, his hand stills on the buckle of his belt and he groans deep in his throat. “Are you always going to do me in, pretty girl? I swear I just got my hard-on under control.”

“Do you need me to take care of it?” I glide across the room and take the buckle in my hand. He works me up just as thoroughly, but at least he’s allowed me to get off. He must be beyond blue-balled at this point.

“What I wouldn’t give to have your hands on me, princess, but you don’t need to take care of me. It’s the other way around.”

He has been taking care of me. Very good care. The least I can do is give a little back.

“I want to see the cock behind the legend.” I undo the buckle and slide the zip down. His breath hitches. The only sound is the click of metal coming undone. “I want to know if the rumors about that piercing are true.”

He chuckles. “They’re true.”

“Really?” I arch one eyebrow and slide my hand inside his pants, cupping his hardness. It’s pretty damn big, and hard enough to use in case one didn’t have a hammer. A drop of pre-cum soaks through his boxers as I rub my thumb over the head and around the piercing. A delectable little shiver runs through me as I wonder what it would feel like against my tongue.

“Definitely,” he rumbles, as he twitches in my palm.

Dipping into his waistband I get a good handle on his erection. Well I would if my fingers would close around his girth. I guess since every other part of him is larger than life it makes sense this would be, too. My mouth waters and a corresponding wetness soaks my panties at the idea of tasting him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“We’ll be late,” he says, but he doesn’t stop me from pushing his pants down over his hips and freeing him. Holy shit! God and his momma definitely conspired to create the perfect gift for women.