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“Own who you are,” he commanded. “And don’t apologize. Do you understand? Own it or it will own you.”
He sat in a cushioned chair, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, droplets of water glistening down his neck, arms, and torso—bare since he only wore a towel around his waist.
He darted out, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and yanking me in. I whimpered, feeling the burn in my scalp from his fingers fisting in my hair.
I spared one last glance at the house, seeing it light up the night sky, and I smiled, hoping Kai had been on the phone calling the fire department.
“Hey, I’m Alex Palmer.”
“Do you like women?” she asked matter-of-factly. My eyes rounded, and a laugh lodged in my throat. “Uh,” I choked out. “Well, it’s never really occurred to me.” Damn. Got to hand it to her. She knew how to get my mind off the guys. She turned her head, looking at the elevator door and smirking. “Let me know if it ever does.”
“I don’t know this game,” I told him, barely audible. He stared into my eyes, thinning his own as if studying me. “All you need to know,” he finally answered, “is that you can’t tap out.” And he slid his body into mine, capturing my lips and rolling his hips into mine at the same time.
I heard his groan, and then his phone hit my ankle where he dropped it. His hand left my stomach and came up to wrap around the front of my neck, pulling me back to him as his other hand gripped my waist. “Knock that off,” he whispered in my ear, sounding out of breath. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“You’re blocking the road,” I stated, finally figuring it out. “So Fire and Police can’t get back.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “Are you impressed yet?”
Winter Ashby, the mayor’s daughter.
“When you think about me…‘sometimes,’” he added with amusement in his tone—he knew I was lying—“show me what you do to yourself.”
Own it. Don’t apologize for who you are. Own it. You can’t win if you don’t show up, right?
No more house. And my eyes rounded, seeing a picture of the foyer of the Fane’s home covered in flames.
“Why’s he going after the gazebo?” I asked Michael. “Because he’s in love with the girl who built it,” he replied, “and she can’t stand him.”
I trailed off, thinking of moody little Emory Scott in her black-rimmed glasses and overalls who never wore a stitch of make-up.
I jerked my head up, seeing Officer Baker across the street in the park. My stomach dropped. Oh, no. He was headed straight for the guys.
“You robbed your own fucking store, Rika!” Will laughed and grabbed fistfuls of my sweatshirt, shouting into my face. “You’re the fucking king, baby!”
Will started singing, then slid out of his seat, and I shook with laughter as he straddled me, giving me a lap dance to the music.
“Yeah, they’re just matches,” I continued, my voice growing thick with tears. “And memories and smells and sounds and butterflies in my stomach every time I heard the car door slam outside, telling me that he was home. A thousand dreams of all the places I’d have adventures someday.” I took a deep breath, placing my hand on top of the box. “They’re hopes and wishes and reminders and all the times I smiled, knowing he’d remembered me while he was gone.”
“You’re in everything.”
I stared wide-eyed as he placed it a few inches in front of me, his finger hovering over the green Answer button. “Michael, no,” I rushed out, panic making my lungs ache. But he swiped the screen anyway. The ringing stopped, and I heard silence as she waited for me to say something. “Say hi,” he whispered in my ear.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, Mrs. Crist. Thank you for checking in. So far so good here.” I heard Michael laugh in my ear, probably at how ridiculous I sounded.
“I am being nice to you, right?” he whispered, dragging his teeth across my jaw. “Yeah, she’d cut my fucking hand off if she knew just how nice I was being right now.”
“No worries, Mrs. Crist,” I gritted out, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can handle him.” “Can you?” he mocked in my ear.
Our scrapes and bruises, tattoos, scars, smiles, and wrinkles told our stories, and I didn’t want a pristine piece of wallpaper. I wanted her and everything she was.
The most valuable lesson anyone learns in life should be learned as early as possible. That you don’t have to live in the reality someone else had invented. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever.
“You’re Horsemen property now,” I heard Kai say, “and if you want to have money to eat, you’ll be just as nice to us as you were to Michael last weekend.”
“I won’t come all the way out there to get you,” I heard Will growl as I stood just outside the kitchen. I clenched my fists. The intercom. He’d found her. Every room in the house, including the garden shed, had an intercom. He must’ve figured out the same as me. She didn’t have anywhere else to run. “Oh, yes, you will!” she snarled back, challenging him. “You’re the pack’s dog. Come fetch, little dog!” I couldn’t help the curl of my lips. Good girl.
“’The devil always has my back?’” Kai repeated, looking confused. “I didn’t say that. I’ve never even heard that before!” I shook my head, closing my eyes in despair. “I have.” Everyone stilled and turned their eyes on Michael. “My father,” he said in almost a whisper, looking uneasy. “He says that.”
“Will was drunk as shit,” Michael challenged. “But you weren’t. You took her into the middle of nowhere instead of directly home, and you knew it was Trevor under that mask.”
“I’m not playing your games. You were wrong.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You want to know what I’ve learned? I don’t win by playing your games. I win by making you play mine.”
“How much do you charge?” I asked. She set down the vodka and pinched her eyebrows together. “For what exactly?” “For women.”
I couldn’t believe it. Michael Crist was on his knees, telling me I was beautiful.
“Rika,” he whispered against my neck. “I need you. I need you every day, every hour, every minute…”
“I love you, Michael.”
“No one can hear you scream, Rika. We’re both going to fuck you, and you’re going to love every second if it. No one’s coming to help you.”
“When you look at me,” I continued, “when you touch me, when you’re inside me, I’m completely in love with my life, Michael. I never want to be anywhere else.”
“Did you know that he was twelve when his mother started fucking him.”
“And when he was fifteen,” Trevor continued, “he beat the shit out of her and threatened to kill her if she ever came back.
“It’s eleven oh-eight, baby,” he announced and then leaned down, close to my face. “By eleven-thirty, you both will be on your way to the bottom of the ocean.”
“I love you, Rika.” I’ve always loved you.
