Dangerous (6 page)

Ryan

Nice meeting you?

I sat on the couch watching the weekly game report. It was mid-afternoon, and I didn’t know how many hours I’d been sitting there like that. It was like she’d climbed into my head and set up camp there. I couldn’t get her out of there, no matter how hard I tried.

Just pull back the deadbolt?

I played my words over and over in my head. Who said guys weren’t over-analyzers?

Well, I always had. For the last ten years, my world has been black and white. Eat. Sleep. Sometimes kill. Repeat. But this was different. This was
after
the absolute head-fuck of the night before.

She was different.

I was no wide-eyed boy—farther from it than you could possibly imagine. But there I was, replaying the entire night in my mind, over and over. And there was nothing else I could do. Oh, I tried to focus on the screen, where they were analyzing plays. But it was pointless.

I’d had a job planned that afternoon. But from the moment the door closed behind her, I’d known I’d need to reschedule. It was like ten years’ worth of emotion had hit me at once—I was angry one moment and regretful the next. There was no way I could have allowed my associates to see me like that. They hired me based on my reputation as a tough guy, not a fucking pussy.

But I couldn’t switch it off. I don’t know what made her different to any other woman who had crossed my path. Sure, she was fucking gorgeous, with an ass that could cause accidents if you put it on a freeway billboard. But there was something else. There had to be. This woman, this broken, damaged, sassy woman. She was capable of turning me into a pussy. And that was a dangerous way for a guy like me to be.

I shook my head and stood to get a drink. I never thought about my life, not since Maria. But now it was all coming back—the regrets, the what ifs. What if I’d taken a different path after the military? Once upon a time, not long after I’d gotten back from my final tour, I’d made a decision. But that had all changed…

I cracked open the beer with a knife and took a deep pull. But that wasn’t true either, was it? I couldn’t blame anyone else for my choices. Would I really have lived a different life as an upstanding citizen if they hadn’t taken her?

No one did this to me. My choices made me who I am.

“Stop,” I screamed into the emptiness.

If they could have seen me like that, they’d no longer fear the day I turned up at their door. And if I didn’t have fear? I was nothing. I’d done the right thing, pushing her away.

“Why do you feel so miserable and empty, then?” a little voice inside my head mocked.

I shook my head. I was losing it, I feared. I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up as loud as I could, hoping it would drown out my thoughts.

I’d never felt alone; far from it, I’d always preferred my own company.

It wasn’t working. My thoughts were like a nagging soundtrack that refused to go away. The volume wouldn’t go any higher—already my neighbor was thumping on our shared wall. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the couch. I wasn’t tired, but I couldn’t stay there like that. I just couldn’t.

I needed to get out. But where? I couldn’t go back to the bar. I’d seen her twice already.

I squeezed my eyes closed. I’d never understood the phrase skin crawling—I sure as hell did now.

If only I could have just gone to her; allowed things develop between us and seen where they went. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t some doctor or businessman who met a girl, fell in love and had two perfect kids. No. With my background, I was destined to be alone. I just had to get the fuck over it and accept that.

Amy

One Week Later

I left the library and immediately pulled out my cell phone. It was an entire week since I’d spent the night at his place. And I hadn’t heard from him. How could I, when he hadn’t asked for my number? Well, I think I’ve already proven that I have terrible taste in guys. Still, awareness of that fact didn’t seem to be making any difference to me. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He’d been standoffish. He hadn’t laid a finger on me. I should have run a mile. But…

Ugh. The sight of him in his underwear, all buff and masculine. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind.

I put my phone away and told myself to stop acting like such a dweeb. I had bigger things to worry about. Like, where I was going to get the money to pay for the eye-wateringly huge hospital bill that had arrived in my inbox that morning.

With no laptop, I’d been spending my days in the public library updating my resume and looking for jobs. To be honest, I needed the diversion. And the major side benefit was that they frowned on cell phone use within the building.

Which was agony and freeing all at the same time.

I ran down the steps to the subway and tried to put him out of my mind. He wasn’t interested. But I could fantasize, right? I’d been surrounded by finance majors and accountants my entire adult life. The only place I’d come across manly men was in the movies. I mean, yeah, some of my accountant friends were buff. But that was because they spent hours in the gym before and after work.

Mean-looking mystery man. Ryan. There was something different about him. He didn’t strike me as the type who lycra’d up at five in the morning to take a spin class. I shivered as I pushed myself into the crammed carriage. No, he wasn’t the gym type. He got that body someplace else.

“It’s probably good to have a fantasy guy.”

I glanced around, alarmed. I hadn’t meant to say it aloud—the words had just come tumbling out of my mouth. I turned my back on the people around me, some of whom were staring at me with amused looks on their faces. As much as I’d hated wearing a bandage, it had offered some justification for my behavior.

It didn’t help that I was going crazy. I’d been having these fucked up dreams, where it felt like I was
this
close to remembering. But then I’d wake up and it would all just vanish like a puff of smoke. I couldn’t stand it.

So, yeah. A diversion was good. And it was probably better for his sanity and mine that he showed absolutely zero interest in me.

Damn, though,
I thought as I moved toward the doors.
He looks like the kind of guy who can fuck like some sort of sex athlete.

I shivered, feeling a bolt of desire and heat shoot through me. I looked around. No one was paying attention to me now. I had the same feeling of giddiness that I’d had in the hospital then. I’d escaped death. I could do anything—what was the worst that could happen?

I left the train and floated up the steps feeling lighter than I had in weeks. It carried me all the way along the street and into Julia’s building, where I let myself into her apartment with the spare key she’d given me.

I threw the door open and froze. Julia and Tony from the bar were on the couch—two minutes later and I felt sure I’d have caught them fucking.

“I’ll go.”

“No, stay. Wait,” Julia said, jumping up and pulling down her shirt. “We were just…”

Tony sighed and glanced from her to me.

“Stay,” she said vehemently, opening the fridge and grabbing three cokes.

I threw my purse on the floor beside the door and shuffled over to join them.

“Any luck with an apartment?” Tony asked.

I shook my head. “I need a job first.”

Julia shot him an evil look. “Amy is staying here until she gets back on her feet, like I told you. If you didn’t live with like twelve other people…”

He shook his head and said nothing.

“What are you guys watching?”

“UFC.”

I glanced at the screen and my heart jolted. Something about these tall, strong fighters reminded me instantly of Ryan. I wondered if that was it—was he a boxer? A martial arts expert? I lay back against the misshapen old couch and zoned out.

“Oh baby. Stop wiggling, you’re making me so hard.”

I rolled my eyes and shifted along the couch, backing myself into the tiniest space possible.

Julia glanced at me apologetically.

I shook my head. Despite the lecture she’d given him earlier, she was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I’d seen on her face for a long time. And here I was, crashing her date.

I looked back at the TV, doing my best to ignore Julia’s squeals and Tony’s not-so-subtle flirting.

“Oh baby,” he groaned.

I cringed. “I’m gonna go for a walk,” I announced, standing up and bolting for the door before she could stop me.

***

I walked and walked. Julia’s neighborhood was sketchy at night, but it was busy and safe in the daytime and early evening. To be honest, it was kinda good to explore the neighborhood. After an hour, though, I was getting tired. Much as I hated to acknowledge it, a month in a coma had atrophied my muscles to the extent that I wasn’t able to be active for very long without getting tired. I also hadn’t eaten in a long time.

I glanced around for someplace to eat, and realized something with a start. I recognized those streets. His place. It was near here. My heart started beating before I’d even vocalized the plan in my mind.

It’d be a shame to eat alone, wouldn’t it?

I shook my head and turned so rapidly I felt faint. What was I thinking? The guy practically couldn’t wait to get me out of his home. I’d made an idiot of myself in front of him, dancing on tables like some kind of desperate psycho.

But my feet wouldn’t move. I stood there, planted to the spot.

Rock bottom. I can only move up from here.

I looked around. There were fewer pedestrians now than there had been earlier, but the sidewalk was still busy. All of them walked past me like they couldn’t even see me. Because they couldn’t. What did it matter what I did? I was alive—that was the important thing. Rejection? Give me rejection over death any day.

I turned and walked rapidly in the direction of his building, before I could change my mind.

Ryan

I started. I silenced the TV and listened, wondering if it was the neighbor thumping on the wall again.

It wasn’t.

Someone was knocking on my door.

I glanced around. The Beretta was my closest weapon; I’d left it in the hall table beside the door. But for my own apartment building? Especially when my apartment was rented in my real name? I went to the closet and pulled out my 22.

Whoever it was knocked again; I could hear the impatience this time.

I stuck the gun down the back of my jeans and tip-toed toward the door, catching my reflection in the grimy, cracked bathroom mirror as I passed. I looked grim. Worried.

An overreaction? I didn’t think so. I never got visitors. And those rare few who came to see me had certainly never felt the need to knock.

I pulled the door open and stood to one side in case they got impatient and tried to shoot through the door. Adrenaline coursed through me as I turned my head to see who it was; how many there were.

It took a couple seconds for me to realize.

“It’s you.”

She nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Who’d you think it was? Assassins?”

I shook my head, pulling the gun out of my belt and dropping it into a drawer behind me before she could see. “No. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“That was obvious.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I tailgated someone from your building.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you pretend like it doesn’t pain you to see me?”

I found myself laughing, something that didn’t happen very often. “What’s wrong with you? There must be hundreds of guys who’d kill to date you. They’d treat you like a princess.”

She leaned against the door frame and smiled coyly. “And bore me out of my mind with stories about the office.”

I shook my head and looked at her in surprise. The bandage was gone, but she still looked so small and delicate. I wanted to reach out and pull her to me. And protect her. It was out of character to say the least.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a baby lamb with a broken leg. Want to go for a drink?”

I shook my head in disbelief. Sure, she looked delicate—until she opened that damn mouth of hers. “What’s the occasion?”

“I got tired of playing third wheel with Jules and Tony.”

“So you figured you’d call over to the guy who’s shown no interest in you whatsoever? Don’t you have anyone else?”

Her face fell and I felt a sharp pang of regret. I’d only meant to push her away from me, but now I could see that I’d hit a nerve.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning and walking along the corridor.

I stared after her. I’d gotten what I wanted, but it didn’t feel like a victory. She turned the corner. In thirty seconds, she’d reach the elevator. And for all I knew, it’d carry her out of my life for good.

“Wait,” I shouted, reaching behind me and grabbing my apartment key from a hook on the wall.

I sprinted to the end of the corridor and turned the corner just as the elevator doors opened.

“Wait,” I shouted again.

She glanced back at me. I could see the hesitation on her face.

“I’m sorry.”

She pulled her hand away from the door and let it close.

“That was a dick thing to say,” I continued, coming to a stop beside her.

She stared up at me and shrugged. “Surprisingly accurate.”

“Look, I didn’t know that. I was just trying to get you to—”

“Leave?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes and snorted. No one had ever asked me that question, and I realized with surprise that I didn’t know the answer. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry for coming here,” she said. “I just… I don’t know many people in the city.”

“You just move here or something?”

She shook her head. “No. I just lost my job and my… Anyway. Let’s just say my social circle isn’t what it used to be.”

“Ah,” I said, rubbing my chin, where a day’s worth of stubble prickled against my fingers. “You mentioned that in the bar. After your performance.”

She closed her eyes. “Oh god. I can’t believe I did that.”

Before I could check what I was doing, I reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t a bad show.”

She raised her eyebrow.

Suddenly I was the one feeling embarrassed. “Not in a sleazy way. It was just… hot.”

It had been. It was only when she’d climbed onto our table that I’d realized how intoxicated she was. By then, it was too late—I’d tried to talk her into getting down, but she’d refused. I had to admit that I hadn’t tried as hard as I could have—there was something about her standing up there in her suit and heels. It was the hottest thing I’d seen in a long time.

She smiled—it lit up her whole face and I felt guilty for trying to get rid of her. She had no one. I knew she wasn’t lying, because why else would someone seek out the company of a grumpy asshole like me?

She shivered. I realized we’d been standing in the corridor for several minutes.

“You want to go get that drink?”

She looked up at me and nodded without saying a word. And I knew then; those bright green eyes would be the death of me. I’d vowed never to give my heart to a woman again; I’d succeeded for many years. But this one was different. And I was too far gone to care. I wanted her. I was drawn to her so strongly that I couldn’t walk away now, even though I knew it was the best thing for both of us.

***

Somewhere on the walk from my apartment building to E Street, the plan changed. Now we were going for dinner. By now, I’d accepted it. It wasn’t the disaster I’d thought it was. I was attracted to her—so what? We’d fuck, and then my life would go back to normal. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant price to pay for getting her out of my mind…

“What about this place?”

I glanced in the window of the little neighborhood Italian she was pointing to. “Sure.”

I held the door open for her. As she passed under my arm, I caught the scent of her shampoo. It was citrus; sharp but sweet. Kinda like she was, I thought, immediately wanting to seriously hurt myself for thinking like that. What was I, fucking Shakespeare?

“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting down beside the window. “You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

I sat opposite her and shrugged. “Work’s been kinda crazy.”

She frowned. “I know you probably told me already, but you know that night was…”

I watched her, alarmed. I’d been telling people I worked in insurance for years. And I didn’t give a shit. But she was different. I didn’t want her to picture me as a sleazy salesman, forcing useless policies on retirees. What else was I gonna tell her, though? My real job was off limits and a damn sight worse than working in insurance.

“I’m in insurance,” I said flatly. I mean, I had no choice but to lie to her. But there was something about her. Unlike anyone else, I didn’t want to lie to
her
.

Her expression didn’t change. “What kind?”

The kind that involves hunting down other criminals and putting bullets in their heads.

“Oh, you know. This and that. I sell whatever policies my company tells me to.”

Her eyes narrowed.

My heart hammered in my chest. For a brief moment, I wanted her to see through the lie; to see the real me. But of course she didn’t—if she suspected the truth, she’d been out of that restaurant like a shot.

“I wouldn’t have pictured you as an insurance salesman.”

I shrugged. “It’s a job. It’s not so bad. I’ve been doing it so long, I guess I’m just numb to it now.”

She listened, nodding. “I know what you mean. I was at my old job for five years, and it had become like a habit.”

“Do you like it? Accounting?”

Her eyes glistened. “You might think I’m a geek, but yeah. I love numbers. It just seemed like the natural career path for me. Well, I need to find another job, but I’ve found a few openings already.”

I leaned my elbow on the table, entranced. I mean, sure, I knew nothing about her world, but it didn’t matter. She was so easy to listen to; her gestures and mannerisms so natural and unique to her. I could have sat there and watched her like that all night…

I realized she was staring at me, waiting for me to respond.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your watch,” she said. “Pretty cool.”

I turned my wrist around to look at it. I’d spent countless hours staring at that thing in the past decade.

“Yeah, it’s a replica. It’s…” I hesitated. This was another first. “It’s important to me.”

“Sentimental?”

I nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.”

She opened her menu and started to read in silence. I watched her admiringly. I’d seen it on her face. She’d been itching to ask me about it, but she must have sensed my hesitation.

Would I have told her if she’d asked? I wasn’t sure. I opened my own menu and stared at it, the words swimming as I was forced back ten years in my memory. It always happened like this: something innocent triggered it and I was powerless to stop.

“My fiancée,” I said, suddenly. I’m still not sure where the words came from. I guess somewhere inside me I just wanted her to know; to understand me.

She looked up, her mouth forming an ‘o’.

“It was years ago. Almost ten. She was killed.”

Her eyes widened. Her eyes shone—from tears? I didn’t know if that was a standard response from women. I hadn’t dated anyone since the night they shot Maria in the back.

“What happened?”

“She got shot. Gangs.” I shrugged, hating myself for making the whole thing sound like it was distant from me.

They took her. They took her as a warning to me. Do you really want to get involved with someone like that?

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “You poor thing.” Her hand grasped mine across the table and it took all my willpower to pull it away.

“Don’t. No point talking about it now.”

She frowned and leaned closer. “Have you ever?”

“Have I ever what?”

“Talked about it.”

I looked away. “That’s a load of hippy bullshit. Why talk something to death when it already happened. It wasn’t going to bring her back.”

She looked serious now; no more coy smiles. “Maybe it might have brought you back.”

My ears burned. “Amy. Don’t. Please.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “You…”

“I what? I live in a crummy apartment? I do nothing except work and sleep? Oh and drink myself into oblivion. So what? There’s plenty people in worse situations.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” I looked up, relieved to see our waiter. His timing was impeccable—if he hadn’t shown up, that silence would’ve gotten awkward. Because I sure as shit wasn’t saying anything more on the topic.

I was about to ask for two beers when she shook her head.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled. “You just said you drank yourself into oblivion all the time.”

“And who are you? Fucking Mother Teresa?”

“No, I…”

“Because the way you put it away that night in the bar, you sure as shit weren’t holding back.”

She shook her head. “Hey, I wasn’t judging you. Maybe we both need to ease up.”

“Two waters,” I muttered, closing the menu. “You gonna tell me what to eat, too? No red meat?”

She shook her head with a delightful laugh. “Hell, no. A good steak is about the best thing in this world. Apart from—”

“A good fuck?”

She smiled, but even in the dim orange light of the restaurant I could see her cheeks had turned rosy. “I was gonna say Julia’s homemade carnitas. But that too.”

And I could tell, I could just tell from her tone that she didn’t mean that. I just couldn’t believe it. I mean a girl like her; she was what, mid-twenties? And no guy she’d met had been capable of taking her home and giving her the fuck of her life? It almost made me want to scream. What the hell was wrong with all these hipsters and bankers? I realized with a sinking heart that I’d give anything to have a girl like this.

But I could, couldn’t I? One night. It didn’t have to mean anything. We didn’t have to get involved.