Divided (Unguarded #2) (9 page)

“How did I do that? ‘Cause I’m finding it real hard to believe I did the right thing when I look at you now, babe.”

I move closer to him and place a hand on his chest. Looking up at him with soft eyes, I try to comfort him with the truth despite him not believing it to be real.

“I couldn’t come back, Roamyn. I tried to. But Lucio saw you that night. He saw us here together. I didn’t know it until the next night when he caught me leaving with a bag packed. I was planning to go back to the bridge in the hope you’d be there too. Even if you weren’t, I was still going to leave. He must’ve been having me followed. After that Giuseppe and Lucio kept me locked away in one of their buildings for near on two months. They had me beaten, starved and dehydrated. They caused so much damage to my body that I needed to live on Oxycontin half of that time and for months after, just so my body could heal without me passing out from the pain. That and they couldn’t risk me going to the ER. Adriana and Valentina nursed me back to half human, but it didn’t take long to become addicted to the high oxy could give. One pill is all it would take to become painless. Numb. Now, I’m a junkie with no education and no bright future. But at least, I’m alive. I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t have done what you did for me that night.”

“Ali, I’m so sorry.”

He leans in but I put both hands up to stop him. I need him to hear this. To know why none of this is on him. “Wasn’t your fault. I would never have even spoken to you if I knew you were a cop, let alone open up to you. You gave me hope, Roamyn. I’m here today because of you. You were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, the girl’s life you saved…. she disagrees. Don’t ever doubt that you did the right thing.”

“Well, I sure as hell wasn’t doing the right thing last night. Wish I’d of known it was you in the club before I’d ripped off your clothes.”

My lips pull up into a smirk. “I don’t.”

“You’re too young, Ali. I’m thirty-one. Twelve years older than you, babe. Fuckin’ old.”

I snort. “No, you’re not. But let’s just leave that argument for another day. Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”

He’s quick answering with, “Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell me you were a part of the Marino crime family. Had I have known what I do now, I would never of let you walk away. Not a chance.”

“I didn’t want them to find you and hurt you. It was better if we just stayed strangers.”

“You thought you were protecting me, I get it. And I was doing the same for you. I came tonight to give you something. Something I should have given you back then.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a small white business card with the NYPD logo on the front beside the small printed letters:
Organized Crime Control Bureau, Detective Roamyn Tate.

“Here, it’s got my number on the back. If you’re ever in trouble… use it. That motherfucker wants to hit you again…” he points to my split lip, “…use it. You want out, call me. I’ll get you out of there. Just say the word. But I can’t do any more than that without raising suspicions unless you’re willing to go the distance against your so-called family.”

My gaze falls to the ground. “There’s no point in leaving anymore.”

“You don’t leave soon, babe…. you may never get out.”

His fingers glide over my hand as he passes me the card. Lust shoots straight through me as he pulls me close. Our mouths are all but touching, our breathing uneven. My lips part to speak but he slips away, turning around and walking off into the night. Unease settles in the pit of my stomach as I remember what he said. A light breeze sends a shiver across my skin, and suddenly the idea of being alone on this bridge doesn’t feel so comforting.

My cock stiffens in my hand. I squeeze my shaft tighter, pull harder. I push my head back into the pillow. Sweat drips from my forehead because, fuck, if I haven’t been at this for longer than I planned. I’m mad. Confused. Horny. In just a few days, work, life, pretty much everything has flared into a colossal mess I’ve got no control over, including Alison Jenkins. Her, the need to bring justice to the Marino crime family, the fact I’ve avoided telling Mason the truth about when I first met Ali—it’s consuming, suffocating every other thought running through my head. All I wanted to do tonight was drink, fuck, and sleep. The first of which Mase and I had done at the bar earlier, the fucking part—not very successful so far. Why? Because every woman who flashed me a smile, fluttered her eyelashes at me, promised me a good night with a few dirty words—all reminded me of Ali in some way and I can’t go there. My mind’s blurred with blonde hair and blue eyes that I can’t have. Ones I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking of with my hand wrapped around my dick, hard as fucking steel. I squeeze my eyes closed and Ali’s face becomes crystal clear, instead of waves crashing away the thought of her. I grunt. Pleasure builds in my balls and they tighten up at imagining it’s Ali’s tight pussy I’m sinking into. I curse under my breath. No. Fuck.
Don’t think about her.
But it’s no use. She’s become a permanent in my mind and my dick? He fucking loves her. My breath catches and my muscles tense, blowing my load one tug away. My phone chimes, cutting through my Ali induced state of pleasure and pain. Ignoring it, I let it ring out. Damn it, all I want is to come, let out my frustration, it’s the one thing I
can
control. But when my cell rings the second time, I drop my dick. Cursing, I reach across to my side table to pick it up.

My brows furrow. Not recognizing the number I answer, my tone abrupt. “Tate.”

“Roamyn?” a small voice muffles through the static on the line.

The hair on the back of my neck rises and I freeze.

Ali.

I climb off the bed and grab my clothes from the floor, tucking my still hard dick against my stomach just so I can pull up my pants.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?” I ask, tucking the phone into the crook of my neck so I can zip up.

“I’m at home. Lucio—”

My nostrils flare. I cut her off, knowing where this is headed, yet not wanting to hear it. “How badly are you hurt? Doesn’t matter. I’m coming to get you.”

Worry filters through her voice. “No. You can’t come here to the house. If he sees you we’re both dead.”

I take a deep breath and try not to crush the phone in my hand. “All right. Meet me a block up around the corner. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. And Roamyn? Thank you.”

I swallow past the pain cutting the back of my throat and hang up. Grabbing my keys, gun, and badge from the side table, I shove my phone in my pocket. When I shut the door to my apartment behind me, dread hits my back thinking about what I could be walking into.

Thunder cracks above me like a warning sign.

Go home.

Turn back now. While you still can.

I push my car keys into my back pocket and pull up the hood on my jacket, hiding my face along with my nerves. Unease winds through me, pulling me so tightly I all but jump out of my skin when a drunken homeless man trips, wandering out of the alley behind me. My heart thrashes in my chest. I shake it off, but the feeling of impending doom doesn’t leave me. I could be walking into my own demise, not that it’d matter because apparently my heart doesn’t care much for my own wellbeing when it comes to Ali. Why? I haven’t a fucking clue. Maybe it’s the longing for retribution. Craving for blood to be shed, just as my mother’s was. An eye for an eye. Maybe my mind’s using this girl as another reason to go after them. To walk up to Giuseppi Marino’s door tonight, kill him with my bare hands and then sleep soundly with not a drop of regret. Either way, my pulse’s racing, fingers itching. I’m bound to find out soon enough.

I shove my hands in my pockets. Walk with my head tucked low, and make it to Ali without being noticed. When I realized those few nights ago it was her in my bed beneath me, my breath caught in my throat and time stopped. Memories of the scared girl I met four years ago flashed before my eyes. But looking at her now, after having her in my arms—it was clear she’d changed. Grown. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She had perfect perky tits with rose-tipped nipples that hardened under my touch. She had long legs that carried on for days and a look in her features, aging her by years. She’d seen a lot, been through even more. It wore on her face, within the lines around her eyes. Gone was the innocence and naiveté of youth.

Ali’s pale skin flashes as lightning illuminates the night sky with angry strikes. I suck in a harsh breath at the red and purple hues covering her face. My hands move without thinking. I cup the sides of her head and turn her, inspecting the damage. She hisses, her features contorting with pain. Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my anger in check. I want to kill them all. For me. For Ali. For every life, they’ve brought irreparable damage to. I check over her eyebrow that’s crusted with dried blood from a small cut before grazing a thumb over the bruise and swelling around her right eye.

“Look at you,” I whisper, pulling a loose strand of her hair out of her face.

My tone drops low, determined. “I want to kill him for doing this to you.”

She doesn’t speak. Just gleams at me. Her lips parted, eyes in a daze. The weight of what I’ve just done pressurizes in my chest. In a matter of seconds. A few words and a touch I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have. What I’ve been telling myself these past few days to avoid because it’s what she wants but shouldn’t have.

She’s nineteen.

She’s an adult.

She wants you. But she isn’t yours.

You can’t tell her what to do and sure as fuck shouldn’t touch her.

It takes all the resistance I have to pull my hands away from her and drop them to my sides. She grimaces as I move and I cringe, hating that I’ve hurt her. Regardless of the fact, this is only the fourth time I’ve ever been this close to her. Skin on skin. Breathing over the top of one another. It seems in all the time that passes, the odd connection we share—whatever the hell it is—doesn’t dissipate. Not in the slightest. I don’t understand it. Don’t know what it is. All I know is if she hurts, I hurt. She bleeds, my heart bleeds for her. I want to protect her, even if she won’t protect herself. I’ve lost time thinking about her. A complete stranger. A stranger who I feel compelled to, for a reason I can’t even understand, because even now I still don’t know much about her. Not the stuff I can’t find in her file. I’m losing control when I’m around her. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I want more and loathe it all at the same time.

I rub a hand over my forehead and shift on my feet before attempting to steer the conversation in a safe direction, away from feelings I’d rather we keep buried. Away from the nagging feeling that draws me to her. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

Ali nods and her small soft voice sends a shiver over my spine. “Okay.”

My eyes drift away from her, confusion spinning in my head. I swallow the emotion swirling around in me. “Come on. We’ll go to the hospital, have them sort you out then go to the precinct. Call your sister to come pick you up. You can’t come back here, Ali.”

I reach for her without waiting for her to agree and rest a hand on her lower back, pushing her along beside me. We barely get a few steps when she digs her heels into the ground, stopping us. I turn around as the first drops of rain soak our hair, drizzling down our faces.

Ali wrings her fingers together while pleading with big round eyes. “No. I don’t need a hospital. And you can’t call, Lindsey. Or your work.”

My patience snaps. Her stupidity, infuriating.

I glare at her. “I don’t particularly care if you want to or not. You called me, Ali. Middle of the fucking night, because you need my help. Now accept it, and get your ass moving because you can’t go back to this place you call home. I let you go back there because you’re nineteen and responsible for yourself… and look what happened.” I gesture to the length of her. “Well, lesson fucking learned, babe. Not letting it happen again. We got to call your sister. She’s your family. That’s where you should be.”

I turn around, pull her slippery hand into mine and get moving before she can disagree with me some more.

“Please. Just stop a second.” She yanks her arm free and I’m done. I don’t have time for this shit and I can’t, won’t, leave her hurt and alone.

Rain pelts down on us as a storm brews above us and between us.

“I know you probably think I’m young and naïve. But I’m not stupid, Roamyn. I know what will happen the moment you take me to the precinct or the hospital. I’m not going to say anything against Lucio or his father. They’ll kill me before they’re even in cuffs. We both know it.” She drops her arms, her shoulders curling over as she sighs. “And I’m not worrying my sister over cuts that will heal. It’s not worth it. She’ll pull crazy out on their asses and it’s the last thing we need. Trust me when I say that to you. You’ll start something neither of us can finish because this…” she gestures around us, “…is so much bigger than you, me, and any of our problems.”

Her words sift through cracks of thunder. Rain downpours in a heavy shower, thickening the tension growing with every uneven breath. The storm steals the silence, our words—anything we want to voice. Not that it matters. What’s the use of talking when trying to reason with a girl prepared to defy me at every turn? I stomp forward, sweep the hair out of her face and dance my hand around the back of her neck. I’ll get her attention the only way that seems to work. I squeeze the delicate column in my hands and lower my eyes to her so she can believe every word from my mouth.

“Never said you were stupid, babe. I know you’re not. Takes courage and strength to live through what I can only imagine you have and still be here today. But you’re caught up in a world that’s going to get you killed. That day might not have been today. But one day, Lucio will punch you one too many times. Or this…” I use my free hand to trace over the track marks on the inside of her arm, “…this will kill you first. You need to get out now while you have people to help you.”

A lump forms in my throat at the agony in her eyes.

She casts her head downward and away from me and whispers, “It’s too late for that.”

I shake her. “No, it’s not, Ali. You’ve just got to want it bad enough and be strong enough to put the past behind you.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, blending with the rain. “And what happens when Giuseppe finds me? What do you think Lucio will do to me as payback? I’ve tried to get out before, Roamyn. I tried to find you and it didn’t go so well. I also tried to get clean at one point and you know what happened? I ended up on a bridge ready to jump off just so I could feel some sort of relief.” Her voice rises to overcome the thrashing of Mother Nature. “When I’m clean, everything I’ve been through becomes a hallucination I can’t separate from reality. It fucking kills me to remember the pain, their hands on me. Inside of me. You don’t understand and I wouldn’t expect you to. But if I have to suffer through every damn day for the rest of my life, reliving the nightmares of my past, I won’t survive. Because that will kill me. You can judge me just like I’m sure everyone else does, but you have no idea what I’ve been through. The way I handle my life might not be healthy, and every time I escape might be a risk, but it’s the lesser of two evils for me…” she pauses, her eyes glossing over with anguish. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry.”