“Wait, you asked him to bring you here? On Valentine’s Day?” I double over as laughter hits me hard. “That’s f**king funny.” Damn, it feels good to laugh. I’m still chuckling when Raven’s sympathetic expression dries the last of my humor. “What?”
She turns her body toward me. “Killer called. He told us about Stewart.”
I shrug. “So?”
She leans in. “He told us that Layla and Axelle cancelled on you guys.”
The sound of that girl’s name makes my stomach tip on end. I reach for my beer. Empty. Fuck.
So that’s why they’re here. “Wait, how did you know where to find me?” I ask Jonah.
“Lucky f**king guess.” The deadpan way he says it has me glaring.
“Killer said that Axelle was upset.” She isn’t giving up.
Yeah, she wasn’t the only one. I lock down my urge to start tossing tables and focus on a stripper with hot pink hair who’s ripping her top off to a Sex Pistol’s song.
“She slipped him a piece of paper, Blake.” Raven’s voice is louder than before.
I keep my stare to the stage, and try like hell not to listen.
“The paper said that she didn’t want to leave her mom.”
This gets my eyes, but only for a second. “They aren’t my problem anymore.”
Jonah leans in. “Killer thinks they didn’t want to cancel. He thinks they were forced to.”
“No, he’s wrong. He’s just a love-happy little prick who doesn’t know better. He thinks women are all soft and f**king sweet, and that they’re not conniving little bitches who act loyal and devoted until they’re forced to choose. They pretend to be strong, and fake it until they get me to believe I’m safe… and loved. Then turn on my ass. Ratting me out and kicking my p**sy ass to the curb.” I hurl my empty beer bottle across the room, and it shatters against a wall.
The stripper on stage startles, and a bouncer makes his way over to me, only to get waved off by Jonah.
Raven grabs my forearm. “Not everything’s as it seems, Blake.”
I jerk out of her hold.
“Blake, man.” Jonah moves closer, but doesn’t touch me. “Calm the f**k down.”
“I’m not saying what she did is right,” Raven says. “But is it possible that she sent you away because she loves you?”
Yeah, just like my mom snitched on me because she loves me? I laugh without a hint of humor. “That doesn’t make any f**king sense, and you know it.”
“Can’t you see? She’s sacrificing herself for you.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I don’t have to know her. I know love. And love makes you welcome torture if that means keeping the person you love safe.”
I swivel my body so that I’m facing Raven head on. “Safe? I’m a six-foot-two, hundred and ninety-pound jiu-jitsu black belt. You think I need a tiny woman to keep me safe? That’s the most f**ked up thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Blake,” Jonah warns.
I slump back in my chair, thinking this has turned into the most jacked-up day. Amazing how I could wake up with plans for the best night of my life, and now I’m here having to listen to this bullshit when all I want to do is be left alone with my lap dance. Fuck.
“So that’s it. You’re just gonna give up?” Raven sounds pissed.
“Yup.” I don’t want to give up. But what choice do I have? She kicked me out and threatened to call the cops.
“Huh.” She shrugs. “Have it your way.” Her eyes move to Jonah. “Let’s go check on her.”
My head jerks in their direction before I can stop it. “Check on who?”
Jonah stands. “Layla and Axelle. Killer’s meeting us there. He’s pretty worried. I guess Axelle’s dad is a real a**hole.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Cool.” I sit back and pretend to watch the stripper. “Have fun.”
Raven frowns down at me. “Catch ya later, Blake. And uh… happy Valentine’s Day.”
I give them a chin lift, and they disappear behind me. Raven’s words about love replay in my head. “Bullshit,” I mumble to no one. “All of it.”
My throat is dry, and I swallow hard against the feeling of failure. I promised her I’d protect her, but how can I if she won’t let me? I can’t go busting into her life unwanted and stand guard like some psycho. No, I’ve allowed that girl too much of my brain space. She kicked me out. She let me go. Jonah will make sure she’s okay.
The warm weight of the stripper’s long, tan leg slides across my lap until she’s straddled over my thighs. “All set, Snake.”
Fire burns in my sternum. “Don’t call me that.”
She flinches. “What do you want me to call you?” Her hands trail up my arms and lock behind my neck.
My hands move on their own up her thighs to her hips. “How about we don’t talk at all.”
A soft smile curves her lips before she leans in and touches them to mine. I don’t kiss her back, but allow the soft feminine flesh of her mouth and her tits mold against me. It doesn’t feel horrible. Her h*ps grind down, searching.
She backs off my lap with a breathy moan and takes my hand. I follow where she leads me, away from public viewing and into a private room. A place where I’m hoping to forget the man I’d become and celebrate the return of who I once was.
Twenty-eight
Layla
Axelle and I changed out of our dresses and heels, not bothering to hang them up, but rather leaving them crumpled on the floor in our rooms. All the time we put into tonight, the money spent, the effort exerted, now piled in a sloppy mess.
We’ve been watching television while Stewart makes calls. He’s gone from barking into the phone to laughing to back to sounding pissed all night.
After he told us we’re checking into a hotel tomorrow so the movers can come pack up our stuff and take us back to Seattle, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of it. I need a plan, but I’m coming up empty.
I wish I could call Blake, tell him how sorry I am, and explain why I had to kick him out the way I did. Stewart isn’t just an everyday creep, he’s a ruin-your-name, destroy-your-life, and poison-your-dog-for-good-measure creep. I can’t stand the thought of him setting his sights on Blake.
Hopefully somewhere down the road, once I’m finally rid of Stewart for good, I can find him. If I could get him to hear me out, maybe he’d forgive the way I treated him. I keep my head focused on that, but I know that Blake’s not the kind of man who opens himself up once, and asking for him to trust me again is a leap.
“Pack a bag. We’re going to a hotel.” Stewart’s finally off his phone.
“You said tomorrow.” Axelle’s head is in my lap, and her neck tenses against my thigh. I run my hands through her hair a little more firmly. I don’t want her to think I’m the weak woman I was before. This time, I’ll stand up for us.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Pack. A. Bag.”
I return his glare. “No.”
“When did you become so defiant? You’ve been in Vegas for what? Three months? And now you’re little Miss Independent?” A glint of something sinister sparks in his eyes. “Seems I got here just in time.”
I whisper in Axelle’s ear for her to go to her room. She grips my waist.
“Please, babe.” My voice is steady and calm, the complete opposite of how I feel. “It’ll be okay.”
She holds on for a few more seconds then releases me and walks to her room, her eyes to the floor. I listen to the sound of her steps until I hear her door close and then nail him with a glare. “What are you doing here, Stewart? And why didn’t you sign the divorce papers? You said you understood. You let us go.”
He mocks me with a fake pout. “My poor stupid wife. Did you really think I’d let you go? I gave you space, but I knew you’d f**k up your life here just like you f**k up everything else. I expected a call two weeks ago when those slutty pictures of you and that kid at the pool were all over the Internet.”
My stomach bottoms out, but surprisingly not from the disgusting way he’s speaking to me. Has he been stalking us? “How did you know about that?”
“Shit. Everyone knew,” he says with confidence, but drops his gaze.
“You’ve been spying on me?”
“You’re my wife.”
The weight of my jaw hangs heavy on its hinges. “How long?”
“It doesn’t matter ho—”
“How long?” I demand.
“You’re hanging around with a guy who’s closer to Elle’s age than your own.”
I can’t believe this. Common sense tells me I should’ve known he let us go too easily. Why didn’t I see this coming?
“You’ve been stalking me and Blake.” My voice is barely audible as I process this new information.
“You’re married. You’ve embarrassed our daughter, me, and yourself.” He steps up close, the red coloring his face accentuating his blond eyebrows. “Now walk your ass into your room and pack a f**king bag. I’m not staying the night in this shit hole.”
My heart jumps in panic, but his insulting our home forces it to slow. I worked my ass off to get where I am. We’ve made this place our home and built a life for ourselves. He can do whatever he wants—call me names, belittle me, take my body. I’ve lived through his hell. But I won’t give up the life we have here. When I left Seattle, I vowed I’d never take another order from him again. It’s time I made good on that promise.
I think about the story Blake told me about the morning he decided he was finished living under the heavy hand of his father. His tattoo flashes in my mind’s eye.
Si vis pacem, para bellum.
If you want peace, prepare for war.
With that, an idea forms. If I piss him off enough, anger him beyond his control, I’ll stir up the war. I’ll drive him to the point of violence. The police will come, restraining orders will be filed, and ultimately divorce papers will be signed. I can do this. It sounds crazy, but I’m thinking crazy might be our only way out.
I see the guys at the training center take punches all the time. Sure, it’ll hurt, but I’ve got purpose on my side. Fight for the life I made here. For the life that Axelle’s made. And piling hope upon hope, for any future I have with Blake.
This is going to work. It has to.
I suck in a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Fuck you, Stew.”
His eyes widen, the brown piercing me and not letting go. “What did you say?” His nostrils flare with every breath, and his chest swells.
“You heard me. I want you to leave.” Excitement shakes my voice, but I’m hoping he thinks it’s fear.
“Have you lost your mind, talking to me like that?”
A loud knock sounds at the door just a couple yards from where we’re standing.
“Layla? It’s me, Raven.”
Stewart’s eyes dart from me to the door.