Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 28

Tears burn my eyes and I'm shaking.

He sets thoughtful eyes on me and registers my extreme reaction. I'm f.u.c.king this up. I know I'm f.u.c.king this up! I can't push him. If he spooks, I'll never get him to tell me. Never.

I breathe deeply and focus on relaxing my muscles.

He pushes up from his chair, slamming his beer bottle onto the table so hard it makes me jump. "I'm out."

"What?" I hop to my feet, but his legs are carrying him through the house and into the garage where I had him park his bike.

"Later, Trix." The door slams behind him, and shortly after, I hear his bike roar to life.

"f.u.c.k!" My head spins and tears drip from my eyes. "I need a plan. I need a plan."

Mason I don't know what woke me up, but I'm up. Staring at the ceiling, I'm wide awake. I rub my eyes and check my phone.

It's almost five o'clock in the morning.

Either the sun is just starting to rise, or it's a full moon because my condo is already tinted in muted light. I need to check in on Trix, but it's too early. She needs her sleep. Not too early for a run-Knock-knock-knock!

A frantic pounding on my front door tenses my muscles. Just the sound alone radiates panic. What the h.e.l.l?

I rip off my comforter and charge down the steps, whirling around the corner and flinging open the door.

"Trix?"

She rushes into my arms, her body going almost completely slack once I grip her to me.

"Trix, baby, what's wrong?"

Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and the smell of liquor is all over her. She shakes her head and squeezes me tighter. Something's not right. Fear floods my veins.

Shutting the door, I hook her beneath the legs to scoop her into my arms and take her to the couch.

"I'm sorry." She buries her face in my neck, her forehead cool against my skin. No fever. "I'm so sorry."

My gut clenches and I hold her tighter. "Shh, it's okay, what are you sorry for?"

She shakes her head, her nose brus.h.i.+ng against my neck. "I lied to you. I should've told you the truth from the beginning." She continues to whisper a mumbled "I'm sorry."

My hold on her lets up at the sudden need to see her face. Sliding her off my lap, I release her to pull back enough to see her. "Lied about what?"

Her face, still heavily made up from her s.h.i.+ft at the club but smeared with dripping mascara, bunches with a cringe. "I'm not sick. I'm a little drunk though."

Okay, that explains the booze smell. "Didn't drive, did you?"

"Cab."

Good. "So you lied about being sick?"

"Yes, and . . ." She dips her chin for a minute before her eyes search mine; fear and worry shadow her expression. "He's back."

My stomach drops with a sickening thud, and my fists clench. "Who is back?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Mason." She shakes her head as tears roll down her face. I've seen this look on a woman before, the struggle between what she needs and what she wants. The war behind her eyes says she's about to crush the soul of a man who cares for her more than she can return. If memory serves, I'd say history is about to repeat itself.

I straighten and stalk to the other side of the room, fisting my hands in my hair and wis.h.i.+ng I could turn off my feelings. s.h.i.+eld myself from what's about to happen and fall into numbness. Pain slices through my chest, and I force my mouth to ask the question. I need to hear it from her lips, but pray, by some miracle, it's not what I think. "You're leaving me."

"I . . . need to explain," she whispers. "I don't have a choice."

There. She said it. It's done.

A numbing heat envelops me, and I glare at her. "So that's it? Just like that."

Blackened splatters of mascara-soaked tears drip from her eyes and dot her white s.h.i.+rt. "I thought he was gone for good."

Son of a b.i.t.c.h! An ex-boyfriend.

". . . but he showed up tonight. I-"

"Fine. You said what you had to say. Now you can leave." Unable to look at her for another second, I storm upstairs to my room and straight into the bathroom.

I practically punch on the shower and rip off my shorts, ducking under the spray, needing to be wet and naked to avoid chasing after her. This can't be happening. I wasn't wrong about this girl. Jessica and Eve, yes.

But not her. Not Trix.

Bracing my weight, I force my hands to stay planted against the tiled wall, fighting the urge to run back downstairs and beg her to stay. I've chased after women in the past and it got me nowhere but alone without even a sliver of pride to call my own. I won't do that again. I allow the hot water to beat down on my neck and shoulders in hopes that it'll calm my racing heart.

Her words run through my head on a loop-over and over again until I'm no longer pressing against the tile with my palms, but with my fists.

"Mason?"

I jerk toward the sound of her voice, strands of my hair hanging wet and heavy in my eyes. She's standing on the other side of the gla.s.s shower door, totally and completely naked. My eyes rake over her body, and again, I'm struck by her beauty. She reaches a shaking hand to the door, but her gaze locks on mine, waiting for permission.

What is this? One last f.u.c.k before she runs back to her boyfriend? If that is what's going on, I don't have the strength to tell her no. I'm too weak, too sold out for her to turn her down. p.u.s.s.y-whipped and f.u.c.king drunk on her to push her away.

I keep my gaze on hers and she pulls open the gla.s.s. Stepping one delicate foot at a time onto the heated tile, she closes the door behind her and stares up at me. Her eyes communicate a pain that she hasn't given a voice to. G.o.d, I wish she would. Is she hurting as much as I am?

A war wages within, the fight to run from the pain, but the draw that demands I soothe her. My fingers itch to touch her and before I can contemplate the consequences, they move.

I cup her jaw, wiping the dark smudges beneath her eyes with my thumbs. "Why are you crying?" Steam rolls around us, leaving a sheer mist upon her skin that calls for my lips. This is wrong. I should let her go, but- A sob rips from her throat.

"Stop holding back from me."

With a gentle tug, I pull her to me. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s press against my ribcage and my hard-on to her stomach. Disgust rolls in my gut at how I can be so f.u.c.king hard for a woman who's ripping my heart from my chest.

"Mason, I . . ." She shakes her head and her gaze drops away from mine.

"Talk to me." It's all I can get out before my lips crash against hers. Hunger fuels my body as my arms wrap tightly around her. Our tongues tangle together in a c.o.c.ktail of fury and possession. She groans and hitches her leg to my hip and I drive my hands to her a.s.s, gripping hard until she whimpers. Adrenaline bursts through my veins at the satisfaction that comes with her pain. I lift her up, slamming her back against the wall while I delve deeper into her sweet mouth.

Her heels press against my a.s.s, her body begging for me to enter her, to take what, after tonight, will belong to another man. I growl into her mouth as anger rips through my body. She wants one last good-bye f.u.c.k, a pity party for the poor schmuck who lost the girl. I want to. My d.i.c.k and the drive to punish her tell me to f.u.c.k her hard and walk away. Leave her with an ache between her legs, matching the ache she'll leave in my chest.

She claws at my arms. "Please, I need you." She said herself that she uses her body as a tool, which is exactly what she's doing now. As angry as I am, I'm incapable of using her. She's worth more than that, even if she doesn't realize it.

I force my lips from hers, and her eyes pop wide with shock. Reluctantly, I unhook her legs to place her gently to the ground. I put as much distance between us as possible in the confined s.p.a.ce.

"I can't do this." I run a hand through my wet hair. "I won't."

"Why?" Her voice threatens to unman me. "Will you look at me?"

I contemplate saying no, telling her that looking at her will only remind me of all I'm about to lose. I can't bear to see her regard me like I'm just some guy rather than her only guy.

"Please."

I shake my head, but peek up at her. "What?"

She's covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her arms; her lip quivers. "I love you."

The words. .h.i.t me like a roundhouse kick to the head. "What? How . . . what?" I blink and lean closer, sure I misheard.

"I know this is soon and sounds crazy, but I'm in love with you, Mason. The head-over-heels kind, the making-big-changes kind, the forever-and-ever kind."

"How drunk are you?"

"Not drunk enough that I don't know how I feel."

This is bulls.h.i.+t! All of it.

My thoughts spin with confusion. "What do you want from me, Trix?" My hands shake as I step closer to her, not sure if I want to grab her into my arms or wrap my hands around her neck.

She stands tall, confident. "I want to be a better woman for you, wake up every morning with you. I want you to wonder what kind of mother I'll be and dream about the future we'll have together. I want you to want to marry me, spend the rest of your life with me, and be proud to do it. That's what I want from you."

A low growl rumbles in my chest. "That's a lot to ask seeing as you just told me you're leaving me for someone else."

Her gaze sinks to the floor. "I know. But there's a lot you don't know. If you'd give me time to explain, I think you'll understand. I hope you'll understand."

"Start f.u.c.king talking."

Twenty-seven.

Trix I take a shaky breath and wipe my eyes with the hem of the T-s.h.i.+rt Mason gave me to wear. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, I want so badly for him to hold me in his arms, but he's all the way across the room. His back is to the wall, elbows on his knees, with his head in his hands.

"It took me two years of working at Zeus's, trying to get close enough to every biker who came in and hope beyond hope they knew something." Every word that leaves my lips seems to deliver Mason physical pain, but he needs to know. He needs to hear it all. "When I met Hatch, he warmed up to me, and it was easy to get him talking. Found out he had ties to Northern California."

Mason's eyes stay downcast, his fingers fisting in his hair.

"When he got drunk, he was like an open book, treated me like his confessional. The things he told me . . ." I shake my head at the memory of his admission.

No one messes with us, suns.h.i.+ne. Gotta guy who gets off on cuttin' up people. Even killed a girl doin' it.

"f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l," he mumbles beneath his breath.

"He took off for a year, and I thought it was over-that he was dead and that everything he knows died with him-but he's back now."

I wait, for something, anything. Silence thickens the air between us.

"Say something." I'd go to him, but his body language is screaming to be left alone.

He rips his hands through his hair, and he spears me with an icy-blue glare. "You're asking me to do the impossible!"

My body jerks to touch him, but I sit back, refusing to take away the s.p.a.ce he needs to process. "Is it? Is it impossible?"

"To sit back while you date someone else? Someone with ties to a murderer? Yes. It's motherf.u.c.king impossible."

"I don't want him. I want you. Forever. After this is over, after I get the name of the man-"

"And if you don't?" He shrugs. "What then, huh? How long will you be f.u.c.king this guy before you finally give up?"

I don't know. Can a time limit be put on this kind of thing? I shake my head. "It took me years to get him to open up, years of living a life I hate, doing things that make me sick, knowing every day I'm disappointing my family because they think I actually like the person I've become."

Mason's face twists in disgust. "Exactly. So why go through it? There's no guarantee you'll find what you're looking for. That guy could be full of s.h.i.+t. Why not just walk away now? You said it yourself you were going to quit stripping. Leave this vigilante mission behind, for us." He implores me with his eyes. "Please, do that. Walk away and I promise I'll give you a life you'll never regret leaving that s.h.i.+t behind for."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "You're asking me to turn my back on Svetlana when I'm finally so close to figuring out who killed her."

"Yes. But it's for us, for your safety. f.u.c.k, Trix, just think about all the things that could go wrong here."

I blink up at him. "You're asking me to choose you over her. If I walk away, I'll always wonder."

"No, you won't-"

"And I'll hate you for making me choose."

He flinches at my words, but understanding comes over his face.

"My parents told me that they wanted to adopt Svetlana because she was older. Young children have a much better chance at finding a family. It took them years of legal s.h.i.+t and paperwork until they finally made it to Russia to pick up their little girl. When they got to the orphanage, they said she refused to go. She didn't cry or throw a fit, but just kept saying over and over, 'Moya sestra. Moye serdtse.' They said she wouldn't stop, just kept chanting it."

"What does it mean?"

"My sister. My heart." Pain slices through my chest at the memory of her words. "My dad told me I was like a growth holding on to her leg: screaming, crying, and kicking up a huge fuss. They knew then there was no way Svetlana would leave me and if they wanted her they'd have to take me too."

"I don't understand why-"

"Don't you see? She saved me. She fought for me and refused to give up until she knew I'd be in the safest place possible, and that place was with her."