Brutal (12 page)

“I’m here because the crowd that comes here takes shit too far with you. They want to put their hands on you, all over you. You fucking cool with that all of a sudden, or did I miss why I’m here?” he yells, but without yelling. “Answer me. Why am I here?”

“To watch my back,” I whisper, feeling ashamed of myself.

“Hard to watch your back when it ain’t fucking facing me,” he says. “How about you keep that ass where it belongs? In case you forgot, it ain’t out there, its back here.” He's pointing at the platform. I get it.

“That’s fair,” I say, looking at the ground.

“It ain’t about fair,” he says. “It’s about safety. Your safety. Those idiots don’t care about your safety. I do. Keep your ass back here, where I can protect it.”

“Fine,” I say, getting the point. “I need to get back to work.”

“Look at me,” he says, raising my chin. “I just want you safe. You don’t see what I see. What I’m seeing ain’t a bunch of people just having a good time, Venessa.”

I nod, getting back to work, and feeling thoroughly put in my place. I look around to get an idea of what it is he sees. Shit, even at first glance, I can see he was right, because what I see are a bunch of grown ass men who, by the looks they’re giving me, want to do a whole lot more than watch me dance. After another song, I turn to look at him, and when I do, he smirks at me. So, okay, I fucked up. I got it, obviously he does, too, so I relax and enjoy what’s left of my night.

At this point in the night, the club is pretty self-sufficient. Bummed Macy didn’t make it tonight, I head into the second set, and I turn to load my cue when I feel an arm around my waist. I know immediately who it
isn’t,
because this stranger’s touch makes me want to vomit. Before I can even react, Rogan has him in the air with one arm, and uses his free hand to punch this random square in the face. The random guy crumples, literally.

I look up to see Rogan approach me, and I realize I didn’t panic (much). Normally, I’d go instabitch and rearrange some ballsack until security showed up, but when I needed him, he was there. I look at him, I mean really look at him, then start wishing for things I can’t have. Like him in my life, in my bed, every fucking night. I could definitely get used to having him there permanently.

“You straight?” he asks while rubbing my arms.

“I’m straight, thank you.” I smile. It’s so hard to hear anything with the music bumping and the crowd eating up some guy getting his ass beat. Yep, the alcohol is working.

“He touched you,” he states, a question in his voice.

“You took care of it,” I say casually.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, it will,” I say, turning to leave, but he takes my right hand and continues to rub it with his rough hands.

“I’ll always take care of it,” he swears, and at that I just nod. Was that a promise that he’ll be here for a long time? Is there a book for this kind of stuff?

As the set prepares to end, this is when the crowd tends to get a little unruly. I know I’m the draw, but I always leave before last call. Some people just can’t separate me from her. Kharma likes the attention. I don’t. The boys will be here soon to play the rest of the night, and I see Blu heading this way. I also hear a whole lot of yelling, and I turn to see Rogan fighting four, no wait, five men at once. The fuck?

Miguel just knocked a guy out who was trying to approach me; he’s shifty for a little guy. I run over to join in, giving Miguel a high five. When I get closer, Rogan tells me, “Get to Max’s office now. Blu! Take her. Go.”

I don’t move, I can’t, I love a good fight too much to move. I don’t know what just happened, but I have a feeling Max is going to get pissed when he hired Rogan to protect me, not go all Chuck Liddell on the customers. Watching him fight does something to me internally. His fists are like sledgehammers, and he uses them like Thor uses his hammer. It’s fucking erotic and beautiful how he moves.

To know he’s doing this for me makes my belly warm, like really fucking warm.  A man approaches me, and when he reaches out for me I take my palm, thrusting up, right into his jaw. Not even sparing him a glance, I notice his friends cheer, picking him up and walking him away. Idiots. Only here could you get clocked in the jaw and congratulated for it. No matter what happens, I’m not moving from my spot, I refuse to stop watching these events unfold. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that, ever.  Finally, Rogan walks over, and unless I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I’d never know that he had just viciously beat down five grown men.

“Let’s go,” he growls, holding out his hand.

I can hear the ambulance sirens in the background and I couldn’t care less. I take it without question, and off we go. He truly is brutal and I love it. Apparently, so does my inner slut.

F
uck. If I don’t kill someone, it will be a god damned miracle. Who do these fuckers think they are? You don’t just walk up to a female and put your hands on her. She can defend herself, I get it, but this is extreme. One of these days, someone will take it too far, and there’s no telling how she’ll react. Fuck that, how
I’ll
react. 

That’s why I got in her shit earlier, felt bad about it, too, but she’s gotta know where to draw the line. She’s so small – barely 5’2 to my 6’4. If she’s 110 lbs, I’d be shocked. Jesus, a middle schooler is bigger than she is. Granted, she’s all muscle, but I don’t care how strong she is for her size, she’s still fragile. She has a mane of dark brown hair and crystal green eyes and pouty lips. Perfect tits, ass, and killer hips.

All that ’good girl’ on the outside and killer on the inside makes her like my own brand of kryptonite. Men see her as a challenge, I see them as dispensable. Beating those drunk assholes was a privilege. Even during the beat down I kept my eyes on her, noticing her eyes were on me. Having liquid courage, some idiot approached her, but before I could break away to rearrange his face she did it herself. Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like it. She didn’t even blink; he approached, she struck, game set match.

Mind off the fight, but back on to her I realize, I’m a giant compared to her, I’ll fucking crush her with my weight if she ever let me near her. Shit. What am I even thinking? I’m thinking I want near her, fucking badly. Like I stand a chance, anyway. Shit. Eyes on the road, dumbass.

“Pull in here. That’s my guest parking spot. I told Boss you’ll be using it,” she says.

I realize that I don’t like the word “guest”… it sounds temporary. I just need to take it one night at a time. One night at a time. I follow her up to her loft, and there are people everywhere. There must be a party. She waves and says hello, but never stops.

“Weekends run long around here.” She laughs. “Like every day.”

“Everyone here in music?”

“Pretty much anything and everything to do with the arts,” she answers, opening the door.

And when I step in, I see a home. She’s welcomed me into her space and, because I suddenly only listen to my dick, I wonder where the bedroom is. The loft, though, is the perfect size for her. Personally, I feel like a bull in a china shop, but it suits her.

Noticing the entire east wall is all windows is an issue, mainly because she has no window treatments. The kitchen is galley style, with a small table and chairs. The living room is plush, though, with a sound system that rivals the club's. Her couch is huge, but it doesn’t look worn, like she never buries herself in it. She keeps the place fairly dark, but it smells good. Glancing over to my bag that I tossed on the floor, I notice her coffee pot is so high end it probably cost more than my TV.

“Where do you want me?” I say, cringing.

She laughs and shows me to a small guest room that has a guitar and drum set in it. No doubt around here, no one would care if you got loud. I find myself wondering what she’d think of my place. It’s big, but it ain’t homey like her place.

“Ready to eat? Because I’m starving. Plus, I have questions,” she asks while getting out the pizza.

We sit down at an island, and neither one of us has any reservations about digging in. We eat it right out of the box. She hands me a napkin, a Mountain Dew, and resumes eating. She’s a dainty eater. I could probably sit here all day and be content watching her eat because she’s that soothing to watch.

“You don’t like the club scene, but then again, neither do I. So what kind of music do you like?” she asks, and I think I can handle this.

“Metal,” I answer.

“What kind of metal?”

I don’t know really know how to answer. Sensing my confusion I can tell she’s ready to give me a shitload of options.

“Heavy metal,” I grind out.

“But what kind of heavy? Screamo? Death Metal? 80’s? 90’s? Sludge? Extreme?“ Cutting her off before my eyes roll back, I say, “Classic metal. Metallica, GNR, Ozzy, Zepplin. Guys like that.”

She starts to laugh and says, “So tonight must have been awful for you, huh?”

I am infatuated with her giggle. Jesus, I just thought that, her fucking giggle. Sadly, I doubt she giggles much, so I need to think about changing that. If Rafe could hear this, he’d slap my nuts for sure. I should tell her it’s my job, that the music didn’t matter, but music matters to her, so I’ll go for the truth.

“You were there,” I shrug, and like a bitch I can’t look her in the eye. “So it’s cool.”

“Normally, Saturdays, I play variations of punk and metal. But since last night was an epic fuck up, and I didn’t get a chance to prepare for tonight, I went with last night’s set. I love hip hop, don’t get me wrong, but I love to get a mosh pit going, too,” she says, smiling.

I’m positive if she smiled at another man like that, I’d have to gut him. No, check that, I
would
gut him.

“I wouldn’t allow you in it,” I say, very matter of fact. “You could get hurt.”

“If you were with me, I’d be the safest one in the pit.” She chuckles.

“True. But I’d be in jail.”

“True. But I’d bail you out.” She smiles big. “I sorta know people.”

She’s so god damn beautiful it hurts to look at her, so I punk out, looking down wondering if I’ll ever get this right.

“So,” she says, sensing the shift. “Thanks for having my back tonight. You sure you want to take me on? Max and Tony want you with me 24/7. That’s a big job, and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted out. My lifestyle isn’t for everyone.”

“I think I’m gonna crash,” I say instead, not answering her question, and feeling like a total pussy.

“Oh, okay, yeah. You’re probably pretty tired. I’m going to take a shower and crash, too, so I’ll see you in the morning. I’m thinking breakfast take out, yeah? Coney?” she asks me, but all I heard was shower… “Coney?” she repeats.

“Sounds good,” I say, and haul ass to the guest room.

Seconds later, she knocks on the door, calling my name as she opens it. “Rogan?”

“Yeah?”

“I mean it. If I get to be too much for you, just tell the Captain to go to his plan b, yeah? I know he has one.”

“No plan b. I cover you as long as necessary. You sure you’re cool with me here in your space? Crowdin’ you?”

“Actually, I am. There’s something about you, Detective. You being here in my space isn’t crowding me at all. You being here makes sense. I don’t know why, but it does, so I’m good with it if you are.”

She drops that bomb and I stand there, mute.

“Well, goodnight, then.”

“Yeah, night.”

She closes the door and walks down the hall. I wait until she’s in the shower to call the captain, but keep it brief. I told him who I saw and what my plans were. We’re just getting started so intel will take some time. When he asked about Venessa, I kept it simple, and I didn’t mention the Miguel incident. He busted his ass tonight and threw down on her behalf more than once. I guess I can give him a shot if she can.

The captain knows it’s going to take some time to get answers, and knowing that in that time I’ll be with Venessa makes me hope this assignment never ends. I lay there, listening to her get out of the shower and head to her room. I check my ear piece, and she isn’t using her phone. I’m oddly disappointed she isn’t going to make a call…I’ve come to rely on it. She’s in the next room moving around, and I miss the sound of her voice. I’m jealous of the fucking sheets she’s laying on, the pillow and the god damn mattress, too.

I check the time and see it’s just after 3 am. She has to be tired. I take time to look into the music she played tonight. I did like some of it, and the rest of it made me edgy. But her dancing… the way the crowd reacted to her…the men staring at her. The bastards trying to touch her… I’m so twisted over this woman. I’ve never wanted a woman. Ever. This woman could make or break me, I know it. And it’s not because she's the first one to notice me. It’s that she saw me before she
saw
me. It makes sense in my head, and right now it’s a fucked up place to be. I need advice. I make a call I know I’ll regret, but I got no other option.

“We better be killin’ somebody,” he answers, yawning.

“Got a minute?”