Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) (12 page)

In for a penny, in for a pound.
“The minute I realized who you were, I knew that to lead you on would be cruel beyond measure. I even tried to work it out in my head where we might take a shot at something down the road, but I couldn’t. I knew you would feel betrayed once you learned who my boyfriend was. No matter if that information came today, next week, or next year. I accepted the truth of that, and was ready to walk out that door on good terms with no actions hanging over our heads,
your head
, that would bring you pain later. So there, I said what I needed to say for my own peace of mind. I’ll leave you to deal with yourself. I would like to say I wish you the best in life, and with time, I’m sure I can, but those words from my mouth would be a lie on this day.”

Tori practically ran out of the cabin. She needed to get away from Michael before she started crying. Not over Richard and his baby or his diseases, but because she really did believe that what she and Michael shared was magnificent and genuine. Apparently she had greatly overestimated it, and him. Maybe Richard wasn’t the biggest asshole in the Brande clan after all.

Fuck, she may have overestimated the man, but she had underestimated this storm. Just when she thought she could make a clean getaway, she heard Michael from the direction of the cabin. “Tori, please come back. Let me explain. Fuck. TORI! Get back here, you can’t go out in this storm, you’ll never make it to the main cabin.”

He was probably right, but she refused to spend one more second with that man. She’d rather freeze to death in a storm.

“Seriously, you have to come back. You can’t be out in this weather. Please come back.” Michael was shouting, she was sure of it, but the wind was driving toward her, making his sound carry the other way. Her pain was so raw, she wanted to hurt him, so she did something she’d never done, used someone’s demon against them. She knew with the wind driving that way, she wouldn’t even have to shout to be heard, so she spoke naturally.

“You do you,
cowboy
, and I’ll do me. Besides, I
have
competed in a Triathlon, so I’m pretty tough and think I can handle a mile in the snow. Goodbye, and seriously, get some help.”

Self-loathing settled in the minute she started speaking. It was juvenile and cruel, no better than what he had done. Tori prayed he wouldn’t hear it, but the slamming of the door broke through the howling wind, and she knew he had.

She couldn’t worry about him right now. She had another asshole to deal with, an asshole with a pregnant wife and an STD. If she wasn’t half-frozen by the time she reached the cabin, she would have dropped to her knees and thanked the little baby Jesus in a tuxedo shirt that she had stopped sleeping with him well before he got it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t getting tested the minute she hit civilization.

T
he hike
through the driving snow failed to cool her anger, which wasn’t her norm. Tori didn’t stew about things as a rule. She gave them their due, and moved on. Mostly, she was furious with Michael, but now with Richard, too. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together and she hated the picture that was emerging.

If Tori had thought for one minute that Richard had cared where she was all fucking day or had any concerns for her welfare in a storm, she damn sure didn’t anymore.

“Where the fuck have you been, and why are you tracking in an ass ton of snow? It’s dripping on the rug for Christ’s sake,” he scolded, then turned to walk away and she heard him mumble. “Stupid cow, I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

That was it, Tori snapped. The Brande men had gone way too far today. If she’d had a knife, she would have plunged it in his left kidney and twisted.

“You don’t? Well let me tell you what you saw, because I’m pretty sure I’ve got a handle on it. You saw a woman who you wanted to fuck, screw the fact that you’re married. You wanted what you wanted. You saw a woman you could beat into submission with a harsh tongue. A woman who would buy you all the expensive shit you couldn’t afford, one that wouldn’t ask too many questions. Who’d suck your dick and not ask for a commitment so you could go on with your life, as is, with just a bit more sex and a lot more money. How am I doing so far?”

Richard turned on her with mop in hand, extended as an offer. “What the hell are you going on about? You’re standing there running your mouth when you should be cleaning up that puddle of slush falling off of you onto the rug
and
the hardwood.”

“God, you’re a bigger fucking asshole than I was giving you credit for. Do you talk to your wife that way? Your stripper? Or any of the other legions of women you’re fucking?” Tori relished the touch of comprehension starting to dawn on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re smoking, Torionna, but you aren’t making any sense. I think you might be losing it a bit. You should get one of your head doctor friends to prescribe you something.”

“Oh, screw you, Richard, I don’t have time for your games. Speaking of prescriptions, were you ever going to tell me about the STD? You’d think I’d be hurt by your blatant disregard for my health, trying to sleep with me all these months knowing you caught crotch rot from a stripper, but no, I’m not. I
am
madder than an old wet hen though. Not just for myself, but for your wife.” Finally, that got his attention, and his arrogant air suddenly deflated.

“And your unborn son.”

“God, you always were such a bitch. My wife and son are none of your concern. Do you want to know why I brought you up here, Tori? To fucking dump you. I figured I would let you fuck me for a month or so, as a going away present, then send you back with that pilot and never have to look into your fucking ice queen face again. No man will ever care for you. You will die alone will a hundred fucking cats in a cheap apartment, a crazy dried up old biddy, now, get the fuck out.”

Wow, Tori didn’t think Richard could shock her or hurt her again, but damn if he didn’t just bring his A-game.

“Does she know? Does Sandra know? About me, the stripper? The fact that her son will be born diseased because his father couldn’t keep his skinny prick in his…” Tori didn’t get to finish that barbed question. Before she knew it, Richard had his hands around her throat and they were on the floor, him on top of her choking the life’s breath from her body and cursing.

“You bitch!” He screamed as he flew at her. “Don’t you ever, ever say her name. EVER! My son will be perfect, you hear me, perfect? You useless cow, I can’t stand the sight of you.” With every insult, his fingers tightened and his face got redder and redder. He was foaming at the mouth with rage. Close to losing consciousness, Tori tried to speak and failed as she clawed at his wrists.

Sad, but her thoughts when she was close to dying were, of course, of her mother and father, brother, and best friends. But the one that jumped out in front, as the black spots were melting into each other, was that she’d never get to apologize to Michael for being hurtful. She would die with the last thing she said to the man she felt she could love if given the chance intended to inflict pain and incite his demons.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Richard’s voice was muffled and broken, like a bad cell connection, cutting out in time with the darkness fading in.

R
etreating back
into the safety of his cabin seemed like the right idea at the time Tori had taken aim and fired. A fatal shot, at that. Once Michael slammed the door, his anger almost completely dissipated. She’d shown admirable restraint, only when he had sunk to the lowest of lows to deliver her agony did she finally fire back. Boy, did he deserve it. She’d been nothing but kind, snarky as hell, but genuine. He however, well, he had definitely had finer hours.

Thinking back over his life in general, he realized, he had never sunk lower. Not even with Tonya, but he suspected he wasn’t invested in Tonya, not the way he already was with Tori. Hard to comprehend how he could care for someone he barely knew, but he kind of did know her. Time wise, not so much, but their time was quality, nitty-gritty get to know you kind of time. He had certainly told her things not told to another soul. It felt as if she had opened up, too. That kind of reciprocal exposure forms a bond like no amount of time alone can.

Michael couldn’t leave it like that, not with her, not with him. Hell, not with the fates of the universe. And he damn sure couldn’t leave her to weather the storm, both metaphorically and literally. Fuck, for her he was about to do something he had been trying to avoid since his age was single digits.

Dressed in the warmest gear he had, he walked out the door, into the snow, heading toward the main cabin and his brother.

Voices, angry voices, floated on the wind as he approached. As they grew louder, their words became clearer, and his internal alarms were fucking going nuts.

“Does she know? Does Sandra know? About me, the stripper? The fact that her son will be born diseased because his father couldn’t keep his skinny prick in his…”

Tori’s voice was cut off by a venomous, “You bitch,” from Richard. Then, a loud thud that he actually felt under his feet as he gained the steps. A series of smaller, rhythmic thuds and scrambling sounds followed, then Richard’s voice again.

“You bitch! Don’t you ever, ever say her name. EVER! My son will be perfect, you hear me, perfect? You useless cow, I can’t stand the sight of you.” That wasn’t the last of the shit Richard was spewing, but Michael’s mind scrambled trying to form a picture, attempting to figure out what was going on. There was something familiar…

Then, his blood ran cold.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” It was that shouted promise, reaching Michael’s ears through the door, which brought a flood of memories back. Richard on top of a girl one weekend when he’d come home from college his freshman year, choking her because she insulted his manhood. Michael, just recently a teenager, had barely pulled him off, before she passed out. It was all coming back. The thud, followed by a lesser series of sounds and then Richard telling her how useless she was.

Oh, my God, Tori.

“TORI? TORI?” Michael was screaming as he burst through the front door. The sight that greeted him made him physically sick from fear. It was the same picture, all over again. Richard was on top of Tori, his hands so tight around her throat that his knuckles were near transparent. Shouting at the top of his lungs, and Tori,
his Tori,
had already lost her battle to stay awake. Her feet were no longer beating out an ominous tattoo on the floor. They were lax and splayed outward, her eyes closed, and her head lolled to the side.

I’m too late
, he thought. Too fucking late to save her. No, no. He wouldn’t let it be too late, but when he went to move, he felt like that middle school kid again. But he wasn’t helpless then, he’d always been big for his age, and fuck it, he’s not helpless now. He would save Tori, and once he did, he would make sure no one ever hurt her again.

Shaking off the past and spurring into action, Michael threw Richard off Tori as if he were a rag doll. Once there was a safe distance between Richard and Tori, Michael let his fists fly. Giving no thought to his hand, his future, or Richard’s life, he delivered blow after blow. It wasn’t until he heard a series of coughs and moans from behind him that the murderous rage, which had overtaken him, lifted slightly.

As he had a brief moment of realization, he looked down, and horror struck deep in his soul. Michael wasn’t a violent man, never had been. “Just enough” was his motto. He’d always done just enough to get out of a situation or save the damsel in distress. Even when it came to fitness, he passed on the kick boxing, MMA craze. It wasn’t that he couldn’t kick ass, as evidenced by the swollen mess of his brother’s face, just, he didn’t like to. He abhorred violence in all forms, even sporting.

Yet, here he was, on top of his brother, with hands that were starting to swell and bleed and fingers that looked a bit like homemade sausages that had busted through their casings. Richard’s face wasn’t much better. Just as he started to question what the fuck he had done, he heard it.

“Michael.” His name, whimpered in pain and scratchy like it tortured the speaker to even breathe, much less talk.

Tori.
He scrambled across the floor to her side and gently lifted her head to his lap. This was why he’d resorted to animalistic behavior.

This.

Her.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk. Just relax and breathe through your nose, it might help.” He tried to offer comfort by stroking her hair, but he didn’t have a clue what to say or do. What he did know was she had burrowed deeper into his heart and soul than he thought. It was when he saw her on the floor, limp and lifeless, that realization struck like a fucking bolt to the head.

Shock-induced slow motion made the seconds seem like an eternity when he first glimpsed her delicate neck under Richard’s violent grip. That scene told him everything he needed to know. He knew if he never heard her laughter again, his soul would be without music. Without her smile, his life would be without color, and without her love, his existence would lack flavor. Without Tori, his world would be bland and unimaginable.

That thought rocked his physical being so hard, the lower half of his legs on which he was kneeling, slipped sideways and his ass hit the floor, jarring Tori’s head as evidenced by another pained moan.

Fuck, how did something like this happen? How could he be in love in a matter of hours? Sure, he’d been thinking about her for days, but the truth of it was boiled down to a day, at most. That’s all the time they’d had together, and half of that, he was being an epic asshole. And the icing on the cake, in a remote corner of his mind, was he still partially blamed her for what went down with the waitress, Wendy.

Dropping his eyes to her face and stroking her cheek, he saw some other truths there. He didn’t blame her, not really. It wasn’t her fault, and when that thought washed over him, so did a small measure of peace. The biggest problem now, was convincing her that love at first sight was real, by winning
her
love and respect.

Michael’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice he never wanted to hear again.

“What the fuck,
baby brother
?” Richard’s voice was clear, condescending, and pissed. He was rubbing his jaw as he sat up and spat blood off to the side, and then looked from Michael to Tori then back again. “Hmmm, so that’s why the bitch knew so much? Are you fucking her?” Anger was rising in his brother’s voice and so was he. Michael couldn’t be in a vulnerable position when Richard steadied himself, or shit could get real.

It was a pattern he’d seen before. Richard’s violent outburst always followed the same routine. Swiftly removing his jacket, Michael rolled it into a makeshift pillow. As he placed Tori’s head on it, he whispered to her, “Don’t make a peep.” With that, he rose to his full and intimidating height and faced his brother—the only man who had tried to kill him. It made Michael sick that he shared half his DNA with this person.