Finished (18 page)

Mike held a gun in his hand—the hand belonging to his good arm. He now aimed it right at Drayton.

Never had she seen Mike look so deadly.

For just a moment, she was afraid.

Julia felt the same kind of panicked horror she’d felt when Drayton had gone to get his gun from his car the other day. The shock of seeing Mike now aiming the weapon at Drayton froze her in place with a cold rush of feeling.

“You always were a little slow on the uptake,” Drayton drawled, sounding more like himself than he had since he’d walked into the room earlier. “Arriving just on the cusp of too late.”

If possible, Mike’s expression hardened even more, but he didn’t speak to Drayton. Slanting his eyes quickly over to Julia, he demanded, “Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Where are the rest of your clothes?”

The characteristic incongruity of his last question helped to startle Julia out of her stupor. “I’m fine. It’s okay, Mike. Really.”

“Because of him, I was shot, and you were kidnapped you.” Mike cut cold eyes back to Drayton. “There’s no way that’s okay.”

Nothing in Drayton’s voice hinted at weakness. “You might as well put down the gun.”

“I might as well not do something so stupid,” Mike admitted, his hand tightening on the weapon, “I just pulled a bookcase down on top of Alexander and that other guy. I am not in the mood for games.”

“Mike, I said I’m ok—”

“Tell me what is going on,” Mike gritted out, finally taking the time to look around, his eyes lingering longest on Julia’s half-naked body. “What did Drayton do to you?”

“It wasn’t Drayton. Let’s get out of here, Mike,” Julia tried, knowing it was useless. Everything hadn’t been resolved yet, and some of the things that needed resolution had nothing to do with her.

Drayton and Mike’s relationship went back farther than hers did with either man. And they both had finally reached the edge of their restraint, the bitter truth of it surging forward at last.

“Yes, run along, why don’t you,” Drayton said in a mocking tone. “Mike has had his little boy fun, playing the self-righteous cowboy. And I’ve had my fun, of course, seeing you bound and helpless beneath me, naked, begging me to take you, even as—”

Julia made a burst of enraged, frustrated sound, realizing exactly what Drayton was trying to do.

It worked. Mike wasn’t stupid, but he was acting purely on anger and instinct now. And he wasn’t controlled enough to put up with Drayton’s vulgar taunting.

Mike threw himself at Drayton bodily with a roar of rage, and they both fell to the floor in an animalistic tangle of limbs and grunts.

“Stop!” Julia screamed desperately, uselessly.

Mike was bigger than Drayton, but he was also wounded. He must be acting solely on adrenalin, because Julia was sure his injured body was just not up to this sort of violent aggression. She couldn’t distinguish any specific moves—just a blurred sequence of brute, ugly blows and wrestling moves.

Neither one of them seemed to get the upper hand. Until finally they paused as if by silent, mutual consent. Mike, who’d been trying to pin Drayton down, rolled off of him.

They both lay panting on the hardwood floor, not far from the staff which was still embedded in the ground.

“This is crazy,” Julia said, wishing she was strong enough to shake both of them until their teeth clattered. “Stop acting like idiots!”

“The inevitable consequence of my endless self-restraint,” Drayton rasped, hoarse but irrepressible. “I should have killed you both when I had the chance, if only to shut you up.”

This time, Julia was almost sure he wasn’t trying to bait Mike. In fact, she couldn’t suppress a twitch of her lips, at the familiar, clever irony in his tone. She’d opened her mouth to say something to diffuse the situation, when Mike heaved himself to his feet and attacked Drayton again.

A very faint glimmer of something like pride ignited inside her for just a moment. Mike was a laidback, easy-going, good-natured man. And yet he’d turned into a snarling, raging animal.

In defense of her.

A tiny—very unworthy—part of herself couldn’t help but like that his feelings for her went so deep. But the rest of her, and the part that would always compel action, knew she had to put a stop to this.

Soon. Immediately.

Mike, in his adrenalin-fueled surge of fury, was beating Drayton down without mercy. Drayton was no longer even putting up a fight.

Julia understood. Mike had held back for too long, and he had finally unleashed all the anger he’d restrained for the last months.

It was his
aristeia
.

But Mike would hate himself for doing so as soon as he could think clearly and reasonably again.

“Mike,” Julia snapped, walking over until she was right behind him. Idly, she wished she had some clothes on. “Mike! No. No! Look! He’s not fighting back!”

Something in the sharp tone must have gotten through to him. With an agonized groan, Mike managed to hold back his bloody fist. Panting, his eyes glazed over, he stared down at Drayton’s limp form.

Then he looked back at Julia for a moment. Then down to his hand, still clenched in a fist.

With a strangled sound, he jerked himself off of Drayton and stumbled over to use a table for support. Blood had seeped through the bandage on his shoulder, and Julia was amazed he was still on his feet.

Drayton coughed a few times before he sat up. His face was bloodied.

“I suppose I always knew we’d come to this,” Drayton said, chuckling weakly. His tone was stretched and uneven, but still rich with wry pleasure at the irony of the cliché. “How deliciously predictable.”

Mike didn’t look amused. There was blood on the right side of his face, and his jaw was reddened in a way she knew would bruise. He braced himself with both hands on the wall.

“But I do find it interesting,” Drayton continued, catching his breath and leveling off his tone, “That you’re possessed with such self-righteous zeal for vindication, when it was you—
you
—who committed the first act of betrayal.”

Julia made a small noise, automatically objecting to this. But she cut herself off, feeling like she was somehow intruding on a private conversation.

“Because I fell in love with Julia?”

“Because you broke faith with me.”

Julia felt a shudder of chill run through her hands and the back of her neck. She’d never known what the nature of their relationship was before she’d gotten together with them. They hadn’t been lovers when she’d met them, but she didn’t know whether or not they had been previously.

She still didn’t know. Love wasn’t always sexual. And sometimes it was. And she realized now it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to know.

They’d loved each other once—however it had worked itself out.

And they didn’t any more.

Mike didn’t bother to argue, even if Drayton’s claim was untrue. “The one thing I will apologize for is keeping my feelings to myself for so long—when my feelings started to change, I mean. If that was a betrayal of you, then I admit it. I should have done better.”

It couldn’t have been an easy admission, given the situation and the rage Mike had displayed toward Drayton only moments before. Some might have seen it as a surrender, but Julia wasn’t so foolish.

Mike had always been stronger than any other man she’d known, and his strength had never been evident merely in his aggression.

To her surprise, Drayton nodded his head, as if he’d silently accepted the apology.

Neither one of them spoke for a long, awkward minute. Drayton hauled himself up to his feet.

“But that’s all I’m willing to admit,” Mike said at last, anger once more palpable in his voice.

“I never expected anything else.” Drayton sounded almost amused, although he was clearly unable to stand without the support. “What kind of noble hero would you be if you didn’t hold me accountable for my dark depravity?”

Mike turned around at last. “Bastard.”

“Maybe I am. So why don’t you just take her and go?” Drayton said coldly. “I’ve already made my choice.”

“But you were coming back up the stairs,” Julia gasped, suddenly realizing the implications. “You changed your mind.”

“I assure you I did not.” His words were as cool and arrogant as always, but she knew they were a lie, and she felt a wash of affection, appreciation, relief, that her faith in him wasn’t completely misguided.

He wasn’t a good man. He would probably never be a good man. But he’d genuinely cared about her—about both of them. And he wasn’t completely selfish.

She covered her mouth with her hand, holding his gaze for a moment, the feeling palpable between them.

Then Mike said, “I called the cops earlier, by the way, so if you don’t want to get rounded up with the rest of the bad guys, you better get going.” He sounded casual, slightly bitter, but she knew the words were a gesture of grace.

He was giving Drayton a way out safely, if he wanted it.

Drayton nodded, acknowledging the gesture, and he turned to leave the house.

“Goodbye, Drayton,” she said, her voice breaking.

There would be no friendly visits or Christmas cards—not after everything that had happened. The parting was real. And final.

And it hurt.

He paused, turned, took a few steps toward her. Then kissed her gently on the lips.

Drayton took a step toward Mike, but didn’t say anything.

They’d been roommates in college, which meant they’d been friends or closer than friends for fifteen years.

Mike was stiff, and he was obviously in pain. And his expression was shuttered, although no longer angry. “Goodbye.”

Drayton reached out—a handshake, a hug, a kiss, something.

But Mike jerked his head to the side and withdrew before he could do so.

Whatever had been between them was irrevocably broken.

Rebuffed, Drayton didn’t object. He instead he gave an ironic little salute before he turned to leave for real.

Mike limped over toward her, put his arm around her as Drayton disappeared through the door.

After a minute, there were sirens. Then the police. Then a lot of chaos and questions and an ambulance for Mike. They kept the story simple and true—their roommate had gotten them involved with criminals but he had gotten away. They had no idea where he was. They had no idea what Alexander, Gia, and the other guy were up to. All they knew was that Mike had been shot, and Gia had held him, wounded, in the basement of the house until he’d managed to get away from her by pretending to pass out and then overpowering her. He’d taken Alexander and the other guy by surprise, so three of the bad guys were available for the cops to round up.

But Drayton had gotten away.

The whole thing was so strange, so inexplicable. But, in a strange way, it felt like all the simmering tension of her complicated life had suddenly burst into visceral chaos—but in such a way that everything might now settle back in a better way.

It was a long time—endless hours—before they were in the car together and Julia turned the key in the ignition.

She looked over to Mike.

He was battered, wan, disheveled, still adorable. And so loved.

He met her gaze, a matching emotion in his own eyes. “Let’s go home, baby.”

She took them there.

***

Mike didn’t say anything on the way back from the hospital.

Julia started to worry about him again, but this time not about his health.

It was nearly four in the morning on Sunday when Julia finally pulled the car into their parking deck. She tried to help Mike out of the car, but he pulled away from her rather grumpily.

Frowning, she walked beside him up to their apartment, but she didn’t say anything. He was in pain. Capable men tended to handle injury particularly badly.

The apartment felt strangely empty and unfamiliar, like she hadn’t been there for months. It seemed impossible to fathom that she’d fucked Drayton in his bedroom only the morning before.

Mike headed for his room, and Julia went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She drank it down in several long gulps and refilled her glass for more. She poured one for Mike too and went to find him.

She didn’t care if he was crabby. She was going to make sure he was all right.

He was trying to get off his pants and obviously having a hard time with it. He reluctantly let her help him undress, and then took the water she offered him with mumbled thanks.

When he went into his bathroom to pee, she took off her clothes, which felt gross now, and put on one of Mike’s t-shirts instead.

“Do you need anything?” Julia asked, when Mike reemerged to limp toward the bed.

“No.” He lowered himself with a groan and stretched out with care. In an obvious attempt to be polite, he said, “Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

She figured he wanted to be alone, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure
she
could be alone right now, and Mike was the person she needed to be with. So she lay down on the bed next to him, resisting the urge to cuddle up close.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It had been so long since he’d shaved that his dark bristles were becoming the beginnings of a beard. And he probably needed a shower. But the sight of him beside her—even pained and grouchy as he was—was the most comforting thing she could imagine.

She was too exhausted to think very much through. Too much had happened. Too much that had the power to tear her apart.

She just wanted solace. She wanted it from Mike.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he said, without opening his eyes. He didn’t sound particularly pleased.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not going to pass out or fall off the bed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. And why are you so grumpy? Are you angry with me?” Her questions were more annoyed than worried, but there was a genuine anxiety underlying them.

Mike opened his eyes and turned to look at her. His gaze softened slightly at the sight of her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry. I really appreciate you wanting to take care of me. I’m just not really in a sociable mood.”

“Yeah. Me either. Getting almost killed by a former lover takes the sociability out of you.”

Mike’s breath hitched as he tried to turn toward her, only to halt abruptly with a pained grunt. “Shit. What a selfish jerk. I can only imagine the trauma you had to go through, and I’m acting like an ass. I’ve only got one good arm, but I can…I can hold you if you want.”