Forbidden Fruit (19 page)

With a wild swing, I punched in the general direction of his face and hit nothing, only succeeded in jerking my head and pulling yet more hair out. I then tried another tactic, kicking my legs madly until I felt my foot meet his shin. It hurt like hell but I kept kicking my bare feet. I was fighting for my life.

The struggle seemed to increase his excitement. His laughter continued to sound wicked as he aggressively reached down and yanked on my bikini top.

Something inside me snapped. No guy had ever seen me naked, and I would be damned if the first one was this drunken pedophile creeper. I punched with all the might I had right between his legs.

His entire body flew backward and crashed into the couch, causing both to flip over. I was amazed. I looked down at my fist in disbelief. I couldn’t believe I had just done that.

Mr. Manning crawled to his feet, blood smearing his face. He stood behind the overturned couch with a look of pure terror. It took me a dazed second to realize that look wasn’t for me, he was staring at something behind me, something much taller than me.

I spun around, and to my relief, Michael stood just inches behind me.

I scurried to my feet, and stood beside him. He looked one hundred percent insane, more animal than man, standing there with fists balled, fury radiating from his body. Through clenched teeth, he asked, “Are you okay?” His eyes never left Mr. Manning.

I nodded.

“
I want you to go upstairs and don’t come down until I get you, do you understand?”

I knew how to pick my battles. I didn’t like being treated like a child, but I wouldn’t in a million years argue with Michael when he had that avenging, dangerous edge to him. I quickly made my way up the stairs, not sparing a look for Mr. Manning on the way. I practically dove into my room and closed the door.

After catching my breath, curiosity got the better of me, and I opened my door a little to listen to what was happening.

I heard some furniture shuffling and Mr. Manning slurring some pathetic pleas. I couldn’t make out anything that was said, but I didn’t need to, the tone said it all. Michael said nothing, while Mr. Manning begged and even squealed a few times. Then I heard a loud, ferocious growl that echoed through the house. My heart started to pound even harder.

The final noise was a sickening thud that sounded like a heavy weight being dropped from mid air. I stopped breathing as I listened for more, but there was nothing. I waited for several agonizingly long minutes before Michael appeared outside my bedroom door.

I just stared at him, afraid to utter a single word. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to make of the noises I had heard.

He seemed to be taking deep breaths as he calmed himself down. “Come here,” he gestured with open arms.

I immediately leapt toward him, allowing myself to be folded into the arms I knew would make everything better. My mind raced, wondering what happened down there. Something told me there was a real possibility Mr. Manning’s existence just ended on the floor of my living room.

I was surprised to realize that it didn’t matter if Michael had just killed someone or not, I still loved him and wanted to be with him.

We stayed wrapped together for several minutes. He brushed my hair back with his hand as he occasionally planted sweet kisses on my forehead. Finally, he said, “You’re still shaking, why don’t you get a hot shower, and I will meet you for dinner down stairs.”

I liked the sound of a hot shower. I felt an overwhelming urge to wash off any Mr. Manning germs that remained on my skin. “Yeah, I think I will. But you can stay up here if you want.”

“
I will give you some privacy,” he nodded, then sent me a sorrowful smile and walked away.

My shower took longer than it should have because I washed at least five times until I was sure all the creeper grime was gone. I towel dried my hair, threw on some comfortable clothes, and went down stairs.

To my surprise, I found Ginger and Michael both in the kitchen, chatting like old friends, while Michael helped put the groceries away.

“
Well hey there,” Ginger grinned at me, “You didn’t mention you were bringing a friend to dinner.” There was excitement gleaming in her eyes. Michael had clearly turned on the charm for her.

I looked at him, but he just smiled. “It was kind of a last minute decision,” I explained.

“
Well, you have your choice of filet, chicken, veal, or vegetarian,” Ginger looked at me expectantly.

I threw the ball in Michael’s court. He shrugged his indifference.

“
The filet sounds good,” I suggested.

“
You got it,” Ginger said. “Sweet potato with it?”

“
You know me,” I grinned.

Michael and I made our way to the sunroom while Ginger whipped up what was sure to be a tasty dinner. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Michael lazily caressed my hand, and I decided he wasn’t going to bring up recent events.

“
What happened?”

He looked at me with a perfectly composed expression. “You were attacked, and I took care of the problem.”

“
About that…” I started, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the truth, though knowing I had to know. “
How
did you take care of it?”

He studied me for a moment and then patted my hand, “He won’t be bothering you anymore. I promise.”

“
I believe you, but…” How do you ask someone if they’ve just committed murder? “What happened to him?” I asked carefully.

“
It doesn’t matter what happened to him.” The finality in his tone suggested I drop the subject. I couldn’t.

“
But it does.” I lowered my voice. “Look, I am thankful you saved me, but I need to know. I mean, are we going to jail?”

He laughed.

“
I’m serious!” I accused.

“
Lily? Do you trust me?” he asked with those dark eyes zoning in on mine.

“
Yes,” I admitted.

“
Then trust me when I say you should just forget about Mr. Manning.”

I studied him, contemplating what that would mean. Would Mr. Manning stay away from me, holed up in his house, afraid to step foot on my property in fear of Michael? No, his statement had a more final note to it. Besides, I felt it in my gut that something more permanent had become of Mr. Manning.

I decided that I would let it go for now because I did trust Michael. Besides, Mr. Manning was a total douche bag that I never wanted to see again anyway. I found a temporary bliss with ignorance.

We ate dinner in the soft glow of the dining room. I urged Ginger to join us, but she refused, instead urging me to ‘get to know my friend, since he was incredibly hot.’ Yes, those were her exact words. So Michael and I enjoyed a quite dinner that was a bit awkward as both of us tried to pretend that the whole fiasco with Mr. Manning never happened, yet in reality it happened less than three hours ago in the room right next to us.

Ginger was cleaning up and getting ready to leave for the night, while Michael and I were on the porch, saying our goodbyes.

“
I missed you,” I said, breaking a long, awkward silence.

“
I missed you,” he purred, cupping my face in his hands.

“
Can you stay with me tonight?” I asked bluntly.

He smiled genuinely, “If it would make you happy.”

“
It would make me the happiest girl in the world,” I said. Then I added, “But you might have to leave and come back when Ginger is gone.”

He grinned at me and winked. “I’ll see you later love,” he said in that dreamy, exotic voice, making me forget all my worries.

I watched him walk down the driveway and get into his car. Then I watched the taillights of his sleek, black car until they disappeared around the harbor.

Back inside, I said good night to Ginger and made my way to my bedroom, trying not to count the seconds until Michael came back.

I waited what felt like an eternity when Michael knocked on my bedroom door. I sprang off the bed and yanked the door open. His smile was beautiful, lighting up his handsomely tanned face.

“
How did you get in?” I asked.

He just grinned and brought his lips down to mine. All questions forgotten, I let my lips move with his to create a heaven on earth right there in my bedroom. I knew there would be sweet dreams tonight, with Michael holding me.

I leave her house in the early morning light. The sun has yet to grace the battery wall, though tiny slivers of light begin to fan over the east harbor. I’m smiling like a love sick sap when something stirs in my peripheral.

I feel the presence of an old friend. His wiry, copper hair and pale skin glow luminous in the dim morning. He leaps off the wall of the battery, and falls into step beside me.

“Michael,” he greets me.

“Gabriel.” I can tell he knows more about why I am here than I would like.

He eyes me for a long moment and then gazes at the house behind me. “Is it really
her
?”

By the emphasis that he puts on ‘her’ I know I’m in deep. There is no point in feigning ignorance. I growl instead.

He arches his brows. “Why are you here? You know what you risk brother.” The warning is no news to me, it’s a threat I live with everyday.

“Why are
you
here?” I challenge, stopping in my tracks.

He tilts his head to the side, studying me, but he never responds.

I run my hands through my hair and begin to walk down the battery once more. He finally answers. “I heard you were hanging around here and was unaware of any jobs in the area, so I was curious.”

I sigh, “One day, I would love to find out who your sources are.”

“Job security, my brother.” He shrugs an easy shoulder.

We walk in silence for a moment more. I don’t pretend not to be here because of her, and he doesn’t probe further. He is possibly the only one who still remembers her. If I had it my way, he wouldn’t.

“Perhaps you can use your sources to find out why the Fallen are interested in her.” I have never asked anyone else to help me in my oath to protect her. I hate that I am doing it now.

“I will,” he agrees. “But you can be assured they mean business. After all, they sent their big guns.”

I laugh at the reference. I will break them. “Do you have any theories?”

Gabriel takes a moment of silence. “Many,” he concedes. “I will let you know what I find out soon.” He nods and disappears at once.

I curse. He is such a secretive bastard. I need answers now, damn it! Her life may be at risk. All I know for sure is that the Fallen have found her, and if they figure out who she is, they will stop at nothing to win her soul. If that happens, we’re all fucked. I take one last longing look down the battery at where she still sleeps, and then I disappear too.

The next few days passed in complete bliss. Michael was by my side in every class, walked with me in between, sat with me at lunch, and held me as I fell asleep every night. If someone asked me a few weeks ago if I thought that sounded like an unhealthy, smothering relationship, I would have agreed. But now, I sang to an entirely different tune. I never knew what I was missing until I met him, and now that he was in my life, I could never be complete without him.

After school on Wednesday afternoon, we were lounging on the porch swing, enjoying the salty breeze and shuffling through the songs on my iPhone. “I can’t believe you have never used one! Have you been living under a rock?” I accused.

“Maybe I have,” he snatched it from me, and began scrolling through my playlist. He burst out laughing when he got to a particular song, “Really? Guns N Roses? How old are you?” he teased.

I swiped it back, “I have eclectic taste, you never know when the mood will strike for some ‘November Rain,’” I defended myself. A heavy blush bloomed on my face, waiting for him to condemn my soft spot for 80’s rock.

Then Michael sat up, stiffening, his body suddenly alert. I followed his gaze to the front drive and watched a police car stop directly in front of my house. Two officers exited the car, simultaneously adjusting the heavily laden belts on their waists. They glanced around, surveying the yard and exterior of the house, one with a suspicious frown, the other with a snarky, bored expression.

Michael stood up, and I quickly followed suit. My heart began to flutter as I registered why they may have been here and who they may have been looking for.

“
Can I help you?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain calm.

The bored officer with a pencil mustache and sunken face replied, “Are you the owner of this house?” His face displayed the obvious absurdity of the question.

“
No, but I live here with my grandmother,” I answered, unsure why police would be interested in our house.

He flipped open his pocket notepad, “Ma’am, is your name Lily?”

“
Yes,” I said, guilt stirring in my chest though I had done nothing wrong. They were here for me?