The Rising, page 20
part #1 of Unlawful Men Book 4 Series
“It’s busy.” My thoughts tumble from my mouth without instruction, telling Rose where I’m at, so I rush to reassure her. To play down my threatening panic attack. James is in there. I just need to make it to Ja— “Oh,” I yelp, being knocked a few steps back.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” a woman says, her purse falling to the sidewalk, her things scattering. She crouches, and Fury moves in, prompting me to put my hand up.
“I’ve got it,” I say as I lower to help, collecting a lipstick and a pack of condoms.
“Here.” I look up, just as she glances up at me too.
“Thanks.” Her smile falters, her head tilting as she takes her things, stuffing everything back in her purse.
“You look familiar,” I say, taking her in, wracking my brain for where I might know her from.
“Beau,” Rose says, helping me to stand as the woman rises with us.
I hear Fury calling me, and I let Rose pull me on, looking back at the woman on the sidewalk, still wondering where I know her from, as she clearly does the same with me. I don’t have the mental capacity right now, so I give up, returning my attention forward.
Naturally, there are a few grumbles from the waiting patrons when we bypass the line and we’re escorted in.
“Who was that?” Rose asks, as we follow the two mountains, Fury tailing us.
“I don’t know. I know her face, though.” My cell chimes, and I look down at the screen, the name slowing me to a stop.
“Beau?” Rose says, as Fury’s front meets my back.
“Okay?” he asks, whistling for the two men up front to stop.
I stare down at my cell, my heart that was racing with anxiety now racing with dread. I honestly thought he’d got the message. I’m in love with a deadly assassin and nothing is going to change that.
“Beau?” Rose presses.
“It’s Ollie,” I say, looking at her, for what I don’t know. “A message from Ollie.”
Her face twists. “He’s got some seriously thick skin. Can’t you block him?”
I might have to, because if James finds out he’s still trying to reach me or turn me against him, Ollie will be dead, and while he’s been a dick, I don’t wish him dead. I nod and open the message, ready to click on his name to get his contact details to block him, telling myself not to read his words. But they’re not words. He’s sent me a picture. A picture of James.
James with a woman hanging off his front, his mouth at her ear. “What?” I whisper, recognizing the trouser suit. And where I know her from hits me like a brick in my face. I exhale and swing around, searching the sidewalk outside for her. I don’t have to search far. She’s not moved.
Staring back at me, I see the recognition on her face. She’s realized where she knows me from too. She smiles mildly, and it’s knowing, small but interested.
On top of the image of her hanging off my man’s body, it’s too much, my stomach feeling like it’s been sucker punched. My veins heat, anger consuming me. Blinding me. I feel Rose take my cell from my hand. I hear her quiet curse. I see her move toward the woman before me, ready to do God knows what, but she doesn’t make it.
Fury swoops in, lifting her from her feet and removing her. “You are not in any fit state to cat fight,” he grumbles, looping his spare arm around my waist too and lifting me, carrying us both away from the woman into the club.
He places us down and looks at me. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“And what would that be?” I ask. “Tell me, Fury, because I am oh so fucking curious why my boyfriend would have his tongue in another woman’s ear.”
His bearded jaw rolls, his nostrils flaring, and I can absolutely appreciate that it’s because he’s mad with James too. “I don’t know,” he grates.
“Then let’s find out,” I say, pivoting and walking into the club. I collide with James just inside the entrance, and I conclude he was obviously coming to meet me. Or the other woman. Beth. That’s her name. Beth. Or maybe he was checking that Beth had left the building before I arrived.
I feel so fucking stupid. All dressed up like this, so unlike me, sending coy pictures. No wonder he didn’t reply. He was busy.
“Hey,” he says softly, holding on to my upper arms. “You’re here.”
The anger swirls in my gut, burns my blood, gaining momentum unstoppably. The pressure in my head is beginning to hurt. “Get the hell off me,” I yell, yanking myself out of his hold, squaring him with a look I’m sure could kill.
His frown only heightens my anger. “Beau?”
“Where the fuck is her husband?” I seethe, seeing Danny approaching behind James, his face a picture of concern, which makes me wonder how crazy I must look. As crazy as I feel? I’m certain it’s not possible. “Masturbating in the corner somewhere?”
James steps back, hands up, as if handling a ticking time bomb. “What?” he says warily. He knows. He absolutely knows what, but I absolutely do not mind telling him.
“This.” I thrust my cell in his face, and he is forced to seize my wrist and hold it still so the screen stops shaking long enough for him to see the image. “Tired of dealing with the shit you’re creating?” I ask. “Not getting enough out of this relationship anymore so moving back to old habits?”
His jaw rolls. It’s a fucking insult. “Stand down, Beau,” he orders in a deadly tone I should probably pay attention to. And yet I don’t. My rage is ruling me. My body trembling, a red mist fogging my vision. I feel like control is slipping away rapidly. I need to let go of this pressure. I need to explode.
“I will not fucking stand down!” I yell. “How fucking dare you? You stand down!” I shove him out of my way and march to the bar, not ordering a drink, but swiping up a glass of red that’s already there, not bothering to check whose it is or if they mind. I’m pretty sure they won’t challenge me.
I down it, praying the liquid cools my temper, and gasp, slamming it back on the bar and motioning for another. I can feel many eyes on me, but the music still plays—Swedish House Mafia One (Your Name) right now—and the dancers still dance. I order a second wine before turning around and leaning against the bar, raking a hand through my hair to pull the loose strands off my hot face. I see Danny pull Rose away. I see her grave face. I see Fury looking torn between attempting to remove me from what’s fueling me—James—or leaving me to . . . detonate.
I cast my eyes across them all again. The music seems to get louder by the second, like it’s building to a crescendo along with my temper. Then I look at James. I look at him with all the contempt I feel on a curled lip. I just want to lash out. Hit things. Be rid of this unbridled anger. Release the pressure.
Standing there, his stance wide, his fists balled by his thighs, his jaw ticking, he looks like a deadly mix of power and control. I hate both on him in this moment when I’m straining not to lose my shit. I drink down my second wine and blindly push the glass on the bar behind me. Hurt him. Hurt him. Hurt him. My eyes glued to his, I walk to him, lifting my chin, my whole body rolling with the effort to breathe. I see the veins in his throat pulse. His Adam’s apple sinks and protrudes. His lips twitch. The hollows of his cheeks pulse under his stubble. I find his blue eyes. Eyes that are flames right now. “We’re done,” I say emotionlessly, backing away.
“We’re never done, Beau.” He speaks calmly but looks anything but, his powerful, muscled frame shaking from the strain of keeping his cool.
I turn and walk away.
“We’re never done, Beau Hayley!” he roars. “Broken, fixed, happy, sad, we’re never fucking done!”
I turn calmly and come nose to chest with Fury. “I’m not his anymore, so you do not need to tail me.” I look up at him and get a hint of his mood. Furious. “Back off,” I order, but he says nothing, just moves aside, not because he’s backing off, but because he’s giving James access to me. “No,” I yell, my hands coming up and blocking James from seizing me. “Keep your fucking hands off me.” I turn to leave again, or I try to, but an arm snakes around my waist and lifts me from the floor. “Get off me,” I scream, my arms and legs flailing, throwing my head back, but he anticipates my move—the only move I have in this position—and gets his nose out of the way of my thrashing head.
“Stand fucking down,” he bellows, fighting to hold down my flailing arms. He carries me out of the club, and the looks coming at us are, expectedly, shocked.
I kick, I scream, I fight his hold with everything I have, my anger driving me. I can’t stop. I need this pressure to leave me. I need to be exhausted. But no matter how much I fight, I can still breathe easy.
I need to stop breathing easy.
Stop breathing altogether.
I’m carried across the road, and I hear the sound of brakes screeching, driver’s yelling for us to get out of their way. I think a missile could hit James now and he wouldn’t budge an inch. He stalks down an alleyway to where his car is parked and the headlights blink, the doors opening. He is not putting me in that car. “I said we are done,” I yell.
“Shut the fuck up, Beau.”
I am out of my fucking mind. Untamable. Uninhibited. And as if to prove it, I twist my arm and reach behind James’s back, pulling his gun from the waistband of his jeans, disengaging the safety. He stops just shy of his car, his body still but his chest pulsing wildly into my back. I turn the gun around and point it at both of us. “Put me down,” I say calmly, and he does because he knows. He knows I am fucking crazy, and he’s sent me further that way.
I turn the gun around in my hand and face him, and I look straight into his eyes. “We are done,” I assure him. He shakes his head, his expression incensed. “Yes,” I counter.
“No.” He moves fast, reaching for his back and before I can blink, I have a gun aimed at me. “As long as I live and breathe, Beau Hayley, we will never be done.”
“Then I guess you won’t be breathing for very long.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t want to marry me, so stop being all insecure. It doesn’t suit you.”
My free hand lashes out of its own volition, cracking him around the face, and my palm bursts into flames, his head snapping to the side where he holds it, his lip curling. “Been taking pointers from your best friend?” he hisses.
“Fuck you.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
The pressure in my head bursts, and I scream like an unhinged mad woman, squeezing the trigger. I jolt, flying around and slamming into something. The back of my head collides with a wall, the rough bricks pulling at my dress. The gun is gone from my hand, and James is armed with both. He heaves and pants in front of me, and then he roars to the black sky and fires both guns, one after the other, over and over, the sound of bullets leaving the chamber piercing, echoing off the bricks of the dank alley.
Then . . . quiet.
Except for the last shell casing hitting the ground with a pretty ping.
“Would I like to let off some steam?” he asks, breathless. “Yes, fuck, I need that.” He comes closer and breathes down on me. “Will I take it elsewhere? No.” I hear the sound of the two guns hitting the concrete, then his hands are in my hair fisting it harshly. “I know only your pussy now, Beau.”
“This pussy doesn’t want you.”
“Taste only your lips. Ram my cock only into your cunt. Suck only your nipples.” He dips and licks the shell of my ear. “I will only ever restrain you. Fuck your arse.” Pulling away, he looks at me with wide, wild eyes, his hold of my hair unmoving. “My mind knows only you. My body knows only yours.” Slamming his mouth onto mine, he kisses me brutally, forcing me up onto my tiptoes. “My damn fucking black heart can only ever love you, Beau Hayley, so get your fucking head on straight and show me that all this anger and stress is worth it, because if you really mean it when you say we’re done, I’ll slip back into the shadows and pick up my life where I left off the day you walked into my apartment and watched me fuck that woman.”
Stunned, I stare at him. My anger hasn’t subsided from his words. It’s multiplied. This fucking world. Our fucking lives. Why? Why, why, why? When will the blows stop coming? To James, I am nothing but stress and helplessness. I don’t even let him fuck me how I know he likes to fuck anymore.
He turns his face away from me. “We’re fine,” he says, letting whoever’s come to check on us know that we’re still alive. And the second he’s facing me again, I let my anger out in another way. I’m on him like a starving wolf, kissing him like I might not ever again, gripping his hair harshly. And he accepts.
I climb his body, wrap my legs around his waist, pull him as close as I can get him, my hands fisting his hair, my mouth relentless on his. My tongue circles and whips, frenzied and fast, an unbearable throb hitting me between my legs.
“Are you hard?” I gasp over my words, releasing one hand and feeling around his crotch, hearing his moan as I stroke over his erection. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. Tie me up and fuck me.” I need that. Him. All over me. I need to be taken back to the beginning and reminded.
He pushes me into the wall, his tongue merciless in my mouth. “Everything was in my apartment.”
His apartment that was blown up. And he hasn’t replaced anything, because he’s either been too busy, out of the country, or he thinks dirty, filthy, debased fucking shouldn’t feature in our relationship anymore.
Well, I need it. Clearly. I need that sense of freedom, to be taken away from this life. “Fix it,” I order, and he nods as our kiss continues, not slowing, not softening. “I can’t wait.”
He breaks away and heaves in my face as he walks to the car, puts me down, and opens the passenger door of his Range Rover. He turns me around, bends me over the seat, and yanks up my dress, my panties aside, and I yelp, my fingers clawing into the leather seats. Two fingers sink into me on a groan from him and a moan from me.
“Drenched,” he growls, removing them, leveling up, and ramming into me.
“Shit!” The fullness sates me immediately. Calms the animal inside. Lightens the darkness. Cools the burn in my veins. I sigh and settle against the seat, eyes open, staring at the back of the chair. I already know this is going to be a ruthless fuck. Angry. I’m here for it.
I close my eyes, breath in deeply, relax further, and sink into myself, letting him pound into me like a man possessed, yelling, frantic, chaotic.
And me?
I’m at peace. Calm. I needed this more than I knew. Needed James. I am taken away from the world I’m struggling in, into a place I thrive.
Being James’s. Possessed by him. Owned by him. Cured by him. He was right. We’ll never be done. I cannot live without this. Us.
He strikes harder, grabbing my hair and pulling it. The pain travels through my body and hits me hard between my legs. “I’m going to come,” I say calmly but loud enough for him to hear, and he bellows, pounding harder, yanking harder, breathing harder.
“Fuck!” He withdraws, circles, and pounds into me one last time, grinding on a moan, and I come, so hard but so serene, the pleasure rolling through me, dowsing the anger that ruled me only a few moments ago. I feel his heat flood me. His grip releases, and he massages my scalp as he circles his hips. “Are you okay?” he asks, wheezing.
I don’t answer, pushing my hands into the leather and standing, inhaling when he slips out of me. I feel him trickle down my leg, and I wonder . . . did any stay inside of me? Enough? And would my body accept it?
I feel him pull my panties into place and my dress down, before turning me to face him. His jeans hang open, and I help fix him while he watches me intently. He eventually lifts my chin with a finger so I’m looking at him. “I told you once never to question my love for you. Today you questioned it. Who sent you that picture?”
And just like that, my serenity is lost, and I am back in a world I can’t cope with today. “You know who sent me that picture.”
The hollows of his cheeks pulse. “I told you to block his number.”
“And I ignored you.” I move away, out of his reach. “Why was that woman all over you?”
He closes his eyes, gathering patience. “She’s been calling me. I assumed she and Darren wanted to play. I ignored her. She showed up tonight. It’s rather convenient that Burrows was here too, don’t you think?”
“So it’s his fault you had another woman hanging off you?” Is he saying Ollie set him up?
“I’ve handled it.”
“You sure did,” I breathe, laughing under my breath.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m going home.” I pull at my dress to straighten it. “Fury can take me.”
“Are you saying I can’t take you?”
“I’m saying I can’t be around you right now.”
“I was just inside you, Beau. Fucking you. And now you can’t be around me?”
“Yes,” I yell, obviously all over the place and feeling it too.
“For fuck’s sake.” James swoops up his guns and tosses them in the footwell of his Range Rover. “So what was that? Scratching my itch in case I was tempted to take Beth up on her offer?”
I stare at him, wanting to slap him again. “If you want to take her up on her offer, don’t let me stop you.” I don’t know what I’m saying, and the flash of hurt that flickers across his bristly face spikes a twinge of guilt. To think I could lose him to another woman? To think I might be without him? To go back to the dark places I frequented before James, hollow and lonely?
“You’re destructive,” he says quietly. “You know me, Beau. Do you think I’m capable of betraying you?”
I don’t answer, looking away, ashamed. And he knows it.
“Fucking answer me.”
I look at him. Stare at him.
“You can be angry at me,” he whispers. “Hit me, punch me, fucking shoot me. None of it hurts as much as you not trusting me.” And again, I look away, unable to face the gray, damaging storm swirling in his eyes. “If you think I would hurt you, we may as well add me to the list of men I’m going to kill.”
“Stop it.”
“No.”
“It—” I hear my cell ring, and I search the ground for my purse. I find it by the rear tire of James’s car and dip to collect it. I don’t recognize the number. I also don’t get a chance to answer. James plucks it from my hand and takes the call for me. “What the hell?”
