BUFF Page 11

  Her hands are over her eyes, sweeping across her brow in deep hard strokes. “After that night, I just spiraled out of control. I couldn’t deal with what happened to me. I drank most nights, went out all the time, hung around with the older kids… My father worked all the time, he didn’t even notice I was gone, but when you saved me, Colt, I stopped. Stopped everything. I took control. It was the last time I let my guard down and if that makes me some cold bitch who hates the world then so be it because I'm not changing. If I didn’t do it for my parents I'm sure as hell not going to do it for you.”

  “Becky."

  "I should go," she says softly, her lips quivering. Her eyes strain to hold in the tears threatening to spill. She begs for her sorrow to disappear, willing her heart to turn to ice as she chokes back the sob that threatens to break the defences she’s built against the world.

  Her life doesn’t make sense anymore. Everything has been going fine. But now it is all one big mess.

  Ever since a certain blue-eyed intruder crashed into her hiding place.

  She turns away from him and takes a step toward the door. She can’t let him see her cry. She never lets them see her cry.

  He startles her when he appears right behind her. He whips her around and she fights for balance by placing her fingers on his forearms. He lays a gentle hand on her back and soothes caressingly, pulling her close to his chest. The thin material of her dress makes her feel naked against his body.

  “Don’t hide from me.” As she feels the ice melting, her tears flowing, dreadful memories of that night burn her very center; the pain, the anger, all contained inside, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

  Except with Colt.

  She buries her head into the warmth and safety of his chest. The sobs she has caged for so many years… finally break free.

  It feels like forever when she finally pulls away, watching him with her tear-stained face. He reaches up, tenderly wiping away the remaining tears. His hand moves over her, covering the side of her face as his thumb sweeps across her swollen cheek. He looks pained.

  “You'll regret it if you don't."

  “Wh-What?” she asks, hypnotized by his touch.

  “Not living, not taking a risk,” he whispers across her skin. He licks his lips before he goes on, “You might as well be dead."

  “I'll be fine.”

  His head shakes lightly, his eyes look down openly at her. “Don’t lie to me."

  His stare is a trap she feels caught in. She can’t look away. His gaze is weaving some sort of magic inside her. Making her blood simmer through her.

  “I thought you didn’t care.”

  Swallowing, his eyes glow as they voyage over her lips. “I don't."

  She smiles softly. “Maybe I don't believe you this time."

  His eyes cloud over as he places his hands delicately at the sides of her head, his fingers skimming through her hair. The soft caress shoots delicate shivers through her spine. His lips brush her forehead in a simple warm kiss that seems to pierce and sink in her skin. Becky gulps, the oxygen throughout her body freezes in place.

  They stare into each other’s eyes, caught together by the tenderness of his kiss. He feathers his lips near the corner of her lips and kisses her as softly as before. Her heart hammers, blood rushes to her cheeks, shivers take over her entire body. The silence between them echoes on and on except for the loud thumping of her heart.

  "Is that the truth, Becky?" he whispers, their lips a kiss away.

  The sadness usually buried in her eyes skim the surface. "It is."

  He inhales sharply. "I hate it when you look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  He licks his lips and she almost feels his tongue on hers. "So needy. It makes me want to do crazy things."

  "Crazy things?" she murmurs. Her heart stumbles at his words and like a shot it’s racing harder than it has ever done.

  "Yeah, crazy things," he says, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

  A small gasp escapes her lips. "I don't look needy."

  "Yes, you do. It makes me want to... protect you," he says, grazing his lips across to her ear and whispers, "It makes me want to... forget."

  "Forget?" Her whole body trembles from anticipation.

  "Forget everything. Everyone." Colt steadily tilts her face until she’s looking into his eyes. "Want to help me forget?" he asks, feasting his fiery eyes on her.

  "Very much so," she whispers. The words slip out so easily. Naturally.

  He hesitates for a split second, making her heart feel a little kick and then his eyes dive deep into her eyes as though he’s seeking to find her hidden secrets. A hot flame of desire licks across her tummy.

  She can feel herself slipping. Losing control.

  Every sound, except her beating heart, mutes.

  Time stops as his lips claim hers.

  Every feeling she’s been trying to hide, collides into her like a raging storm the instant their lips touch. Suddenly nothing matters other than keeping him close to her. Never letting go.

  Colt deepens the kiss with his tongue, his hand moving to caress the back of her neck with just the right amount of pressure to send her into ecstasy. Part of her is stunned at what’s happening. This is Colt. The intruder who broke into her home.

  The mysterious biker who saved her.

  He pulls away slightly, biting his lip, and then she blinks and he’s reluctantly backing away. He takes another step back from her too and jams his hands in his front jean pockets. “I'd better get some sleep.” He clears his throat. “It's, uh, getting late."

  “Yes, of course.” Her cheeks prickle and she stammers as she makes her way to the door. Everything is a blurry haze, but she's never felt so high in her life. “Goodnight.” Her hands smooth down her arms, over and over as she heads toward the door. "I'm sorry."

  “Don't be,” he says, stopping her. She looks up at him.

  “Sweet dreams, Colt.” She wraps her hand around the doorknob, a pleasant smile drifts across her mouth.

  “Becky?"

  When he says her name her whole body feels like something warm is being drizzled over her. "Hmm?"

  “What’s the name of the guy?"

  “The guy?” It takes her a moment to understand and when she does the red flush deepens across her face. “Oh, um… Why?"

  “What’s his name, Becky?” he asks again, his tone deadly serious.

  “Emmett. Doctor Emmett Irving."

  “As in Irving Pharmaceuticals?” he asks, his brow deepening.

  “Yes. Why?"

  He shakes his head. “Nothing… ’Night, Becky. I'm not saying it again."

  She giggles softly in her throat. “Get some rest.”

  “Becky?” She waits, never turning around. “What that bastard did... It wasn’t your fault.”

  She smiles, more openly this time, and slowly closes the door behind her.

  For the first time, Becky no longer wants to hide from the world.

  * * *

  SOMETHING IS OFF.

  Her head shoots up. She whips the covers from her body, rubbing her eyes as they dart around the room. The adjustment of the severe light makes her squint and she glances at the nightstand next to her bed. 08:13 AM. The blinds clatter and a small breeze flutters through her room. She darts another look at the window. The more she looks at it the more deep her brow curls under her hair. Her bare feet touch the rug, her steps mute as she ambles over to the window.

  Then it hits her.

  I never opened the window last night... I closed it because it was quite chilly.

  Colt… The kiss last night... Did he do it because... Oh no!

  Without thinking she bolts to the attic taking two steps at a time. Her heart beats so loud and hard against the wall of her chest she won’t be surprised if it shatters through her ribs. Her palm is sweaty and shaky as they meet the cold metal knob. This time she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait to figure out what to say or do, what to exp
ect.

  The door opens slightly. She pushes it back farther, waiting. Emptiness, cold and harsh, enters her lungs. Her eyes scan the room, once, twice. She steps in, her eyes continuing to roam around, confident she’s missing something. A note, a message of some kind.

  He wouldn’t just leave without...

  He’s gone; he’s never coming back.

  You never gave me a chance to say goodbye.

  The kiss last night… it was his way of saying goodbye.

  Something glints by the small window near the futon. The Sun's light rains down through the small opening. Her feet brush against the wooden floor as she pushes herself forward, misery hitting her from all sides when she realises what it is.

  His silver cross.

  The tears fall—harder—laughing at her as they drop against her cheeks.

  Damn him.

  He isn’t going to get to her. He has no right to come barreling into her life turning everything she knows, everything she thinks she wants, upside down, only to leave just when she thinks she’s figuring herself out. Just when she thinks she’ll find... a friend.

  Her fingers grip the small ledge, her chest leaning into the wood. Her thumb scrapes the side of the ledge and finds the stained area that glares back at her. The spot appears to be about as big as her thumb, followed by tiny drips that trail down the wall. They are a rusty black now.

  His blood, his cross… her last remembrance of him.

  Becky's eyes travel the small trail.

  So he is real after all.

  She fingers the stained wood, not quite sure of anything anymore.

  * * *

  HE PEERS AROUND the corner and spots the piece-of-shit coming his way.

  As soon as he catches a blur of black pass by he sneaks up with lightning speed. Grabbing the man's coat he pulls him into the alleyway, shoving him against the wall. His target’s cheek smacks the open wall along with the rest of his body in a hard thud. He bounces right off the wall from the force of the impact and falls flat on his ass.

  Colt gives him little time to think or react because the next second he lifts his collar and shoves him right back into the wall. The pathetic weed panics and dares to swing his arm at him. But Colt is too quick and blocks the punch, countering it with one of is own, right in the gut so that his victim curls over. He’s gasping for air, his arm banding around his midsection.

  His face is red with pain and fear as he gulps to say, “L-Listen, man, whatever you want… you can have my wallet, okay—take it."

  Colt grumbles over him right before he drags his hunched form back up and presses him into the hard surface. He uses the idiot’s collar to jerk him forward and beat his head back.

  He hisses through his teeth, “You know Becky Appleton." It isn’t a question.

  Emmett whimpers low, “I-I don't know… Look, man…she… whatever she told you she’s a lying bitch—"

  Colt punches him in the gut. “I dare you to call her that again.”

  A tear rolls down his cheek. Colt isn’t sure if it’s emotional or physical. He hopes it’s the latter.

  “P-Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “You come near her again—it won’t end well for you. You get me?” The gruff voice threatens.

  “I—I… I don't know what—”

  Colt grabs the top of his hair and slams his head back into the wall. “Understand?"

  It knocks the wind out of him. “Yeah…” he gasps, “Yeah… I understand… I understand completely."

  “Good.”

  The asshole beneath him lets out a brutal cough. His eyes adjust for a second on Colt; the glow of anger in his stare along with the ruthless edges and shadows of his face scream murder at his target.

  The little shit quickly returns his foggy gaze to the floor, breathing in gulps of fresh air as though more pain is taking over. His eyes shut tight, his hands resting on his knees.

  When he dares to look up Colt is looming over him. “I said… I promise man…” There are more tears welling in his eyes. “Please I—”

  Colt's reflexes are too fast. His arm whips out, the heel of his hand smashing against the bridge of the little fucker’s nose. His head cracks back and his body follows after as he plummets fast onto the hard floor.

  Blood spurts out from his victim’s nose, coating his lips. “Fuck!” He jerks when he touches the swollen area.

  Colt doesn’t budge as he watches the idiot squirm on the floor. A cold pleasure dances across his eyes as he says, “In case you forgot."

  And then, like a ghost, just as he appeared, Colt is gone.

  Payback is a bitch.

  But it’s way too much fun to dish out.

  * * *

  “SCALISE.”

  “It's me." Colt can hear the sigh through the static of the shitty reception.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, it's about fucking time.”

  “Yeah, I know, I'm parked for the day, riding back tomorrow,” Colt replies.

  “No later. We need to run on this thing."

  “Yeah, we gotta talk."

  “We will—just get back."

  “Tomorrow morning,” Colt says, his voice hushes as a million thoughts take over. "Should be in by seven. Gonna ride all night."

  “Ten. You know I hate mornings."

  “Yeah…” he replies, already distracted. “Tomorrow,” he repeats, snapping the phone shut against his cheek.

  He raises his hand to the base of his neck, and then sighs when he realizes it’s not there anymore. His silver cross. It’s the only reminder he has of… her. He must have fucking lost it somewhere…

  He is so lost in the pieces that he has to put back together. The mess that the last few days have created… he isn’t sure where he’s suppose to begin. He’s starting to feel like his old self again though. His side hurts like a bitch and he’s weaker than he’ll ever admit, but he can do his job and that is all that matters.

  Colt glances at the small damp bed knowing he can’t put off sleep for too much longer. If he sleeps till sundown and rides all night he should be good. His fingers graze the top of his left side, taking in the bump under his plain white shirt.

  Becky...

  The young girl from his past… She nursed him back from the brink of death, fed him, put up with his shit, and he had the nerve to say that she’s the coward.

  He was fucking wrong. He never should have said any of those things. She’s probably the most courageous person he’s ever known. He doesn’t know one single person who would go to the extent she did to save a stranger.

  Even after everything she’d been through...

  And what does he do? Insult her, call her names, berate her. She’s probably happy to find him gone. It definitely makes her life less complicated.

  At least for a little while…

  Yeah, he decides, he did the right thing. The intensity is messing with his head, closing in on him. Colt finally feels like he can breathe. The air around him isn’t so suffocating. He doesn’t feel boxed in anymore.

  The motel room might have been dingy and cheap, but it’s clean enough for him. And it’s got him far away from her. The farther the better.

  Thump thump.

  His chair, which is leaning back on its hind legs, ceases from moving.

  Who the fuck?

  He waits for a second knock and when it comes he lets the chair fall in a silent thud while he retrieves his gun from under his shirt.

  No-one knows where he is. Not even Kulich.

  He cocks the gun in place and holds it at his side before he moves over to the small window near the door. With one finger he pushes the stained white translucent curtain slightly away and peeks out.

  His back tenses and his fingers squeeze around the stem of the gun. He growls, “Son-of-a-bitch,” and lets the curtain hang back.

  What the fuck do they think they’re doing?

  He freezes for a moment, then a third knock comes and it sprints him into action making him dig the gun bac
k in place. Rage grows inside him, rocketing to the forefront of his mind. He throws the door open making the unwanted guest in front of him yelp.

  “What the hell’re you doing here?” Although his voice can’t mask his outrage he tries hard to control his volume.

  It's the last person he’d ever suspect.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I-I…” SHE LICKS HER LIPS. He watches the movement. It seems to further his fury. “I came to see you."

  “Why the hell would you wanna do that?”

  “Because I-I,” she stumbles, her cheeks prickling with heat. “I have something to say to you—”

  “Shit. You shouldn't be here—"

  “But I am,” she cuts through. “I have something to tell you and you're going to listen to me whether you like it not."

  "How'd you know where to find me?" he bites out.

  Luck, Becky's always believed, is a fickle thing. A streak of luck has never come down from the heavens and touched her with some of its magic.

  Until now.

  But from the way Colt swung open the door and smacked her with the darkest eyes she's ever laid her eyes on, she’s beginning to believe maybe it’s luck asking karma to pay her back for all the times she cursed luck.

  Either way, she’s here standing in front of him with a million words in her heart, none of them transferring to her brain. She keeps breathing, in and out. Her chest feels scratchy under the soft material of her top.

  "Uh, well, this is a small town and I figured if you were still here you can only be in a few places. I tried the local motel first but no luck obviously”—she can’t stop herself from rambling—“and this is the only place to go to rest that's right on the outskirts of town because after that it’s all highway until you hit the city... so..."

  Standing opposite him in the doorway she somehow doesn’t feel in place with him. He’s so undeniably beautiful and every time he steals her breath. Hair casually tousled, flexes of gold shining back at her from the Sun, his eyes starbursts of electric blue, his clothes relaxed, wrinkled but gorgeously accenting his chest, stomach, all the tight, hard places she doesn’t want to notice but can’t stop her body from responding to.

  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea... But it’s too late to turn back... This is my only chance.