Flawed (Blaze of Glory #2) (11 page)

I double over on the couch, dropping the half empty can on to the carpet. It hurts so damn much to breathe; if I didn’t know any better I’d swear I am having a heart attack. It’s not a heart attack… but my heart is breaking all over again.

“Oh Liz, Liz, why did you have to be so strong?” I sob, tears streaming down my face. I make no effort to wipe them away as I stare at her photo. “I could have found a way to save you, there had to be a way. I never should have left, I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me. Tell me what I have to do to escape this never ending nightmare.” I gasp as I sit back on the couch, taking my glasses off and rubbing my hands all over my face. In the background I hear the faint sound of my cell phone ringing, but I ignore it as I stand up and go to get another beer from the fridge. Popping it open I take a long swig and wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m nothing but a big old mess of tears and snot, and I don’t really give a flying fuck. She’s gone, and like the bastard I am, I’ve been so wrapped up chasing a bit of skirt that I forgot where my loyalty lies. With her. It’s time to stop dreaming about what can never be; it’s time to face my destiny and stop fighting the inevitable. I have a debt to pay.

Death could come for me right now and I would welcome it, instead it mocks me from afar, taunting me. Seducing me into its web of beautiful nothingness. Well, not for much longer.

I’m coming for you, you bastard!

NATALIE

“Hey, Lance!” I shout over the music and people in the bar. He looks up from the young blonde he’s flirting with and flashes me a grin, leaning to whisper something in the girl’s ear that makes her blush. Straightening up, he walks over to me. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Keets today?”

Lance shakes his head. “No,” he says slowly. “I just assumed he’d be here.”

I hate to admit it, but I’m getting worried. He took off this morning like a bullet from a gun, and I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. “Will you be okay here for an hour?” I ask, smiling when Lance nods.

“Of course,” he replies, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Go find him, do what you need to do.”

I smile gratefully at him once more before slipping into the office and sitting at the desk. Rifling through the papers and books, I finally come across the employee address book. Flicking through the pages, I find Keets and grab the phone, punching in his number. Holding the phone up to my ear I let it ring… and ring… and ring.

“Hello?” a male voice slurs on the line. I flinch and inwardly groan.
God help me, he’s fucking drunk.

“Keets?” I ask. “Where are you? What are you doing?”

“Liz?” he slurs, sounding surprised. “Is that you baby? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I’m coming to get you, okay?”

I jump in surprise, my eyes growing wide.
Who the hell is Liz? He has a girlfriend?
The thought hits me like a freight train, right in the heart, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain.
Focus, Natalie, make sure he’s safe before you kill him.
“Keets, where are you?” I ask.

“I miss you, baby,” he purrs. “Yo-you should come over and hang out.”

“Just stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” I hang up the phone and sit there staring at it for a few moments.
I can’t believe he has a girlfriend. Why the hell did he kiss me? I don’t have time to think about that right now.

Grabbing his address from the employee directory, I shove it back into the desk and grab my jacket, shrugging it on as I head out of the office. Tracking down Lance, I yell over the music, “Do you have a car I can borrow?” He flashes me a grin and nods, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and tossing them to me.
Everything okay?
He mouths at me and I give him a tight lipped smile in response. Holding the keys up to symbolize my thanks, I head outside, stopping when I realize I have no idea which car is his. After unsuccessfully trying all of them, my eyes fall on the last parking space, and I shake my head as my eyes grow large. “No fucking way,” I mutter. Pushing the key into the ignition, I sigh heavily when it starts straight away.
Of course.
Resigning myself to my fate, I pull on the helmet and straddle the bike. I’m thankful that I’ve ridden a couple of bikes in my time, so I’m fairly confident as I kick away from the curb and shoot down the old country road.

It’s dead quiet, the lights from the bike the only thing illuminating the road. I’m able to lose myself in the moment, to feel free for the first time in years. Riding was never something Daddy approved of, just another thing in the never-ending list of shit I did wrong. But when I’m on the back of a motorcycle, I can feel the world slipping away. For a short time, it’s just me and the open road. Enjoying the ride, I falter a little as I almost miss his street.

Pulling into the driveway, I shut off the engine and remove my helmet as I climb off the bike. Shaking my hair out, I hang the helmet on the bike and climb the steps. I hear heavy metal music blasting inside, and a loud curse as something smashes.

Knocking on the door, I wait as I hear him bumping into several things as he gets up. When the door opens, the sight of him shocks me. He’s still in his clothes from this morning, only now his short hair is messy, his glasses are crooked on his face, and his eyes are bleak.

“Natalie?” he slurs, barely holding himself up against the doorframe. He leans forward to kiss me and I tilt my head away at the last second. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stumbling after me as I step inside his house. The living room is pretty basic, with sparse, dark furnishings and brown curtains. A door at the side of the room sits open, and a quick peek inside reveals that it’s the bathroom. The rest of the house is blocked off by a large curtain, which I assume is where they’re doing the renovations.

“Where’s Zeke?” I ask, turning the music off and looking at him.

“Who?” he asks, looking confused.

“Zeke?” I repeat, putting my hands on my hips. “You know, Stone’s son?”

“Oh, Zeke.” He laughs, stumbling backward and landing on the chair. “He’s staying with a friend. Apparently, Uncle Keets is too ‘uncool’ for him.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I mutter, tossing the keys down on the coffee table and taking a seat next to him. “Dammit, Keets, what are you doing to yourself?”

“You shouldn’t be here, Natalie.”

No? And why is that?”

“Because,” he says, sounding very serious as he sits up straight and leans over me. “You’re far too beautiful for me to resist you.” His hands frame my face and he lowers his lips to mine. He tastes sweet from the alcohol and I drink him in, my arms immediately going around his neck as he pulls me up to straddle his lap. “No interruptions this time,” he murmurs, yanking my tank top up to expose my breasts. “So fucking beautiful.”

He latches onto one nipple with his mouth, sucking lightly as he nips it with his teeth. It’s the perfect combination of pleasure and pain, and I find myself leaning in to him, demanding more. I’m instantly wet and rub myself over his crotch, reveling in the hardness that presses against my clit through our jeans.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, letting go of my nipple and gripping my hips in both hands, grinding me on top of him. I throw my head back as I ride him, fully clothed. He groans and picks me up as he stands, all traces of alcohol seemingly gone from his steady walk. Standing me on my feet, he sinks to his knees and unbuttons my jeans as I pull off my tank top, exposing my naked breasts to the cold night air. Pulling my jeans down my legs, he waits impatiently as I step out of them before kicking my legs apart and burying his face between them, breathing deeply.

“Jesus H. Christ, you’re like a fucking drug,” he groans. “What the hell are you doing to me?” Without waiting for an answer, he drags his tongue through my soft flesh, eliciting a moan from deep inside me. Latching onto my clit, he sucks rhythmically and I bury my hands in his hair, pushing him closer as I throw my head back and writhe against him.

“Holy shit,” I gasp as his teeth gently nip at my sensitive clit before sucking it back into his mouth. My knees buckle and he grabs my hips, steadying me as he stands and yanks down his own jeans. Kicking them off, he lifts me by my ass, wrapping my legs around his waist before walking with me to the wall and bracing me against it. Grabbing both of my hands, he lifts them above my head, effectively pinning me wide open against the wall. The head of his cock drags through my sensitive flesh and across my clit before slipping inside me.

I cry out as he fills me. He’s so big that I don’t know if I can take it all… But he makes me. Spreading his legs a little to give himself more balance, he thrusts hard into me once, twice. So hard that I jerk slightly up the wall with each movement. My breasts jut out proudly, and his lips latch on to one nipple, toying with it until it pebbles.

“Are you ready?” he asks in a harsh voice, moving his head away to look into my eyes. I can’t speak, so I mutely nod. But it’s enough. Hoisting me farther up the wall, he pistons in and out of me, our skin slapping together as our breathing increases in the quiet room. I can feel the pleasure building and spiking inside of me, threatening to consume me. It’s too much and I cry out, but Keets is like a man possessed. He increases the speed and I crash over the edge, calling out as he joins me in a state of pure bliss.

As I slowly return to regular consciousness, I’m aware of my feet being lowered to the soft carpet. Keets steps back and rakes a hand over his hair, looking mighty uncomfortable. Reality immediately starts to sink in, and gone are the happy, peaceful sensations I felt just a moment ago.

I watch through my eyelashes as he moves over to the couch and picks up his jeans, pulling them on but leaving them unbuttoned as he leans over and picks up my clothes, silently handing them to me. I feel a little lost as I quickly pull them on, suddenly cold. I pull my shoes back on and stand there rubbing my arms as I try to bring some feeling back into them. His face has lost all traces of humor, and he leans over to pick up the glasses he dropped during the heat of the moment, cleaning them before he places them back on his face. His eyes are haunted, devoid of any emotion and it’s breaking my heart to look at him. My mind travels back to what he’d said on the phone. Who is Liz? Do I really want to know? What if he has a girlfriend, or worse—what if he’s married? Glancing at his hands, I notice there’s no ring or tan line of one recently removed, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, right?

Desperately trying to look anywhere but at him, my eyes train on the photos hanging on the opposite wall. A brief smile crosses my lips as I see him and Stone in their army uniforms, standing next to two hulks of men. They’d look intimidating if they weren’t smiling. Looking at the next photo, the smile is quickly wiped from my face as I look at
her.
She’s beautiful, with long, thick black hair and ice blue eyes. Her smile is like a thousand suns, piercing its rays straight through my heart as I see her holding on to Keets, the diamond ring on her hand sparkling almost as brightly as her smile. My chest tightens to the point of pain; I have to get out of here.

“I-I should go,” I say, looking over at him. He says nothing, but nods. I grab the keys from the coffee table and walk out the front door. As soon as it’s closed behind me, I allow my shoulders to slump in defeat and I slowly walk over to the bike. As I ride away back toward Saddles, one thing is made perfectly clear.
I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble.

KEETS

I curse savagely and throw my empty beer bottle against the wall, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction when it shatters into a million tiny fragments. How the fuck could I have been so stupid? I had no right touching her, let along fucking her against my wall. I’m still here for one reason, and one reason only—to get my affairs in order before I join Liz and our baby.

But suddenly, I find myself doubting my decision. Is suicide really my only option? Would Liz ever forgive me if I moved on with another woman? I want to say yes, but my mind keeps flashing pictures of that tower collapsing, keeps hearing her final words of love and encouragement. This is such a mess, one I no longer know how to fix.

I look around my house and contemplate crashing on the couch for the night, but deep down inside a perverse part of me wants to sleep beside her tonight—
needs
to sleep beside her. I may not be able to have her permanently, but there’s no harm in a little indulgence before I die, right?
Besides
, I think to myself as I spy her jacket lying on the ground.
She’ll be cold without me there to warm her up.

Grabbing my keys, I hurry outside and jump in the truck. I’ve been drinking and I know I shouldn’t be driving, but thankfully I’ve sobered up enough to see where I’m going.

As I drive, I think about what just happened. There’s no question that it was a mistake, but now I’m faced with an even bigger issue. Is it possible that I’m developing feelings for Natalie so quickly? A part of me wants to believe that it’s nothing more than lust, that she’s just a quick fuck to satisfy my physical urges.

But the truth is, even though it’s only been a couple of days, I find myself looking for reasons to spend time with her. Everything new that I learn about her I end up loving, and how could I not? She reminds me so much of Liz—beautiful, generous and doesn’t put up with my bullshit. She drove all the way out here tonight just to make sure I was okay and safe. When was the last time anyone did something like that for me—man or woman? I know I hurt her, but I can’t regret it. What we shared went beyond the physical, and
that’s
what scares me the most. I can feel my connection with Liz slowly slipping out of my grasp, to be replaced by new feelings for Natalie. I hate myself for this mess.

Pulling into Saddles’ parking lot, I’m secretly relieved to find it empty. After all of this is said and done, I need to add a p.s. to my note, telling Shannon to give Lance a raise. Unlocking the bar door, I slip through and lock it behind me, fighting my way past the tables and chairs to the office. She’s left the lamp on for me, and is curled up on the opposite side of the mattress. Sitting on my side of the bed, I shuck off my shoes, shirt, and jeans before sliding under the blanket and drawing her in to my arms. I flinch when I feel something wet, and I gently roll her over to discover the new cut, right on her breast where I feasted just a short time ago. Her cheeks are stained with dried tears, and regret floods me as I gently touch the area around the new wound.

I did this to her. This is my fault.

Tears fill my eyes as I slip from the bed and get a warm, wet washcloth. Returning to her side, I gently clean the dried blood away and pull her in to my arms. Kissing the back of her neck, I tuck her back to my front and hold her close, closing my eyes briefly in thanks to God or whatever higher power is up there that He sent Natalie to me in my darkest moment. I know I should have told her about Liz, and I know it’s wrong of me to hold on to her now, when I can promise her no future. But the sick, twisted side of me refuses to let her go.

For right now, she is mine.

***

I’m woken a few hours later by the sound of someone being sick. At first, I think it’s a dream, but as the fog lifts I realize it’s Natalie in the bathroom. Climbing out of bed, I pull on my jeans before I knock on the bathroom door softly. “Nat, you okay?” I call out.

“Go away,” she says weakly.
Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
Pushing the door open, I blanche when I see her hugging the toilet bowl, emptying what’s left in her stomach. My own stomach rebels against the sight, but I swallow down the quick wave of nausea and move over to her, holding her hair and rubbing her back in slow, smooth strokes.

When she’s finally done, I leave her side for a moment before returning with a wet washcloth and a glass of water. “Here,” I offer quietly, handing her the water as I gently wipe her face clean.

“Thanks,” she whispers, accepting the glass before unsteadily rising to her feet. I support her with an arm around her waist and get her back into bed.

“What happened?” I ask quietly. She doesn’t look at me and my heart aches at what she must think of me. “Listen, Natalie, I—”

“I’m really tired,” she interrupts, not looking at me. “I think I’m just going to go back to sleep.”

I nod and climb back onto the bed next to her. Only this time, when I try to draw her in to my arms, I feel her stiffen and pull away. I sigh and let her go, rolling over as I attempt to subdue the feelings of panic that threaten to surface and consume me. I feel her body shake next to mine, and instinctively I know she’s crying. But I force myself to lie still, to listen to her tears. In a perverse way, I’m accepting it as my own punishment for hurting her. My mind turns back to Liz, but suddenly it’s difficult to picture her face without my photo in my hand. Slipping from the bed, I let myself out of the office. The only light that remains on is the one above the bar, bathing the room in a soft light. Taking a seat at one of the round tables, I pull my wallet out of my pocket and open it, removing an old, worn out photo. Staring at Liz’s face, I try to conjure up the feelings of love that seemed so important only a few days ago. Is it possible that I haven’t had those feelings for a long time? Is it possible that my feelings for Liz are feelings of guilt at her death, rather than love? 
No,
I shake my head firmly, my fingers gripping the photo as it shakes in my hand.
No, I love her, I always have. That can’t change… right?

NATALIE

I’m in the bar alone, wiping down tables before opening time when I hear the jingle above the door to signal someone entering. “We’re closed,” I call out over my shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

My blood freezes as I hear his voice, and before I even turn around I know who it is. “What do you want?” I ask coolly, dropping the rag on the table and wiping my hands on my denim shorts as I turn to face my one-night stand. He’s just as handsome as I remembered him, only now he has a long scar that runs along his left cheek and his nose looks as though it’s been recently set.

“What do I want?” he repeats, with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. “I’m looking for Shannon Harper and her bastard husband.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I glare at him.