Silent Scars (Surviving #4) (29 page)

She screamed loud as we hit the hard unforgiving ground, but it didn’t deter her. The only reason I was able to detain her was because she was momentarily winded. I scrambled up her body as a loud whooshing and booming noise echoed around the trees, followed by the heat of the flames. I covered her body with mine, shielding her away from it all. The crackle and smell of the fire permeated the air. I lifted my head in time to see the fucker scaling the wall. But then my gut twisted when I saw the ball of flames in the centre.

Hercules was dead.

The furry little rat was an innocent victim to the sick bastard who was toying with this family. And my girl? Her heart was broken, and there was nothing she would let me do to fix it. It had been over a week and I was on the receiving end of being pushed away, and it fucking sucked. She wouldn’t let me hold her. I entered a room, and she left. She didn’t eat. I was pretty sure she hadn’t cried, and she wasn’t sleeping. I’d fucked up her hand with the fall, so I’d taken her only release away because she couldn’t play the piano. She would stand in the music room and just stare at the instrument.

This morning she refused to go for a run. Now she was sitting in the library. With the door closed.

It was a big deal because she never closed me out of any room, except the bathroom. I grabbed the ice cream from the freezer, a bottle of wine, glasses, a bag of popcorn, and some candy. In the books she read, the women always had this shit when they were nursing a broken heart from some douche that didn’t fucking deserve her to begin with. Okay, I was desperate at this point and willing to try anything to make her smile, or at least fucking look at me. I was beginning to see what shutting the people out that cared most about you did to them.

I tapped the bottom of the door with my foot. When she didn’t answer, I swallowed down my irritation and tucked the wine under my arm, freeing one hand to open the door. The door swung open, and she didn’t even lift her head. Nothing I did garnered her attention. The light had faded from her eyes, and I needed to put it back there. I placed the recovery supplies on the table beside her and grinned down at her. She lifted her gaze to the things on the table and offered me a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“I figured it works for a broken heart in your books.” I joked. But she averted her gaze and stared at the screen on her Kindle.

“He was just a dog,” she choked. And I hated that I had belittled the small dude so much that she couldn’t let her pain out.

“Nah, he was cute.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Her voice was so small. I hated it. I shifted beside her chair. I knew she wanted me to leave, and ordinarily I would have taken the easy route and left. Instead, I reached out and lifted her out of the chair. It was a big ass thing, and I could have easily sat beside her, but I wanted her close. So I sat my ass down and pulled her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her.

“We are going to sit here, we are going to get drunk on sugary shit that is bad for us, and you are going to let me hold you.”

She hesitated for a moment, and I readied myself for her to get up and walk away. Because more than anything I hoped she knew I would never force a woman to do something she really didn’t want to do. I breathed a sigh of relief when she relaxed and curled into me. I was slowly starting to live for these moments. Those instances where she would silence everything, where all would disappear but her. I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled. When she was in my arms, I really didn’t care what was in the past, what would happen in the future. Embracing her and
feeling.
It was like coming out of the wintery ice cold into the warmth.

I startled awake when my ass vibrated. Aloura was curled up in my lap napping too. We must have fallen asleep because it was getting dark outside. I glanced at the table and noticed the unopened and likely melted icecream tub. There was a pool of water around the base. Shifting slightly so as not to wake her, I slid my hand down my back and pulled out my cell.

Will.

“Yep,” I whispered into the handset.

“Why are you whispering?” Will whispered back.

“Aloura is sleeping.”

“Leave the room. We need to talk,” he insisted with a hint of amusement in his voice. Like I was a fucking idiot.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

I gritted my teeth and released a slow breath.

“Because she’s on top of me.” I bit the inside of my lip at how that sounded. “In my lap.” I amended. A loud female squeal almost shattered my eardrum. I heard Will chuckle.

“Am I on speakerphone?” I growled, still trying to whisper.

“We are on the way to the ob-gyn. I’m driving,” Will offered.

“And it couldn’t wait?”

“Ryan, are you decent?” The suggestion on Emily’s voice had me gritting my teeth so hard they creaked.

“Will, why the hell did you call?” I snapped. When Aloura’s sleepy eyes fixed on me, I rubbed my hand over her thigh. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Emily squealed and freaking clapped this time. “He called her baby.”

“I'm going now,” I huffed.

“Wait. Hold on. I called because...Ry, Harry was arrested last night.”

“What?” I questioned loudly. Aloura sat up and regarded me with concern.

“Apparently the club was raided. The police had a warrant to search the premises following a tip that Harry was dealing narcotics. He isn’t. The club was clean. But what they did find, rather expertly by accounts, was a black hoody, black sweatpants.”

“Eh, so the guy has a penchant for black. What the fuck, Will?”

“The clothing was found by sniffer dogs. There was flunitrazepam inside the pocket. It’s commonly known as Rohypnol.”

“The date rape drug?” I asked.

“Yup. But the tracksuit was also covered in something else...it has traces of petrol and dog hairs. Ry, it was the tracksuit used to torch Aloura’s dog,” Will informed me. I could hear the pain in his voice. Because he also understood what this news would do to this family.

“Mother fucker.”

“Why would he be stupid enough to leave it at the club? This guy is fucking smart. He doesn’t leave a trace?”

“According to Acis, by the way we do not know this shit – understood?” Emily’s brother Acis is a police officer, but I didn’t care right now I just needed information.

“Will,” I warned.

“It wasn’t easy to find. He covered his tracks. Without the dogs it wouldn’t have been found.”

“The camera?”

“Still searching. They have his computers, laptops, and other mobile devices. They searched his apartment last night. That place was as clean as a whistle. Nothing yet on any system files.”

“I need Acis’ cell number.”

“Ry, did you hear me? We don’t know this shit.”

“Number. Emily? Em?”

“I’m not here,” she called.

“I need that number? This is my...she’s my...just give me the fucking number, Will.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” Aloura asked.

Fuck.

“I gotta go.” I ended the call to Will.

“They’ve arrested Harry.”

“What?” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. I followed and grabbed her hand before she had a chance to leave the room. Quickly, I explained what they had found.

“That’s bullshit. Harry is against drugs, as in I have never met anyone more adverse to the use of drugs. He sacked his last manager for smoking a spliff in his free time. Harry doesn’t tolerate drug use by anyone, so he certainly wouldn’t use a date rape drug.” She yanked her arm free and went into the kitchen. She pulled on her chucks and headed outside.

“Where are you going?”

“Dad needs to get his lawyers on this. Its harassment and completely wrong
. They are wrong.”

“Baby, you have to be open to the possibility Harry isn’t who you think he is.”

“
You
don’t know him. And for some reason you have hated him from the moment you saw him. He is my
only
friend, and I am telling you he
wouldn’t
do this.”

“Aloura.”

“No.” She yanked open the door to be faced with Graham and Alec.

“You’ve heard.”

“It isn’t true,” she stated adamantly.

The pitying look that crossed her father’s face made her pause. I was glad someone was finally making her see some kind of sense, but the pain in her gaze was hard to swallow. Her doe eyes searched for any kind of support from Alec and Graham. But when none was found, grief washed over her. She stumbled back, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You can’t be serious. He wouldn’t do this. Why are you turning on him?”

“There is evidence.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Aloura.” I stepped forward and cupped her elbow.

“I don’t want to speak to any of you until Harry is home and you all offer him an apology. This is a mistake.”

But it wasn’t a mistake. Later that day Harry was charged with suspected arson, blackmail, breaking and entering, and the distribution of non-consensual intimate images. Aloura locked down tight. She still refused to believe Harry was capable of doing any of those things, especially to her. If I was completely honest, I had a niggling doubt it was all too easy.

Women were insane.

Absolute bat shit crazy.

I had deduced that in the past hour since Aloura had gone into self-destruct mode. Or quite possibly “give Ryan a fucking heart attack” mode. She demanded we go out to a few clubs for cocktails. I found out her intention wasn’t to visit just any club but Harry’s. Since his release, a fortnight ago, she had tried every distraction technique possible to get out of the house without me. Tonight I might had been with her, but I had fallen victim to her scheme to get to him. I also found out that the cocky bastard was the proprietor of a very successful strip club. To say I was blindsided would be an understatement. After a few upmarket cocktail bars, she said she wanted to hit one more before heading home. Personally, I wanted to get on my knees and beg that we leave now because I was seconds away from putting my fist through the guy’s face who was sitting next to her and ogling her tits the entire time we had been in here.

We had gone to the classy looking – what I assumed wine bar – only to walk into a half dozen guys on stage with their junk flying in the fucking wind and a screaming crowd of women.

Aloura hadn’t even batted an eyelid. She headed straight for the bar, and that’s when I spotted him, the cocky bastard. But for the first time since I had been introduced to the fucker, he looked beaten down. The swagger was gone. The smirk was missing, and he stood behind the bar with his arms folded over his chest glaring out at the crowd. Not even the half-naked women vying for his attention were breaking through the cloud. It was easy to see this was the guy’s domain. He was king in here, but he wasn’t happy.

He didn’t notice her straight away, but my size was hard to hide, and when his gaze collided with mine, his scowl intensified. That’s when he caught sight of Aloura. Those doubts I’d had regarding his innocence waned further when I caught the absolute agony upon seeing her running towards the bar. He watched her, and I watched him. As she reached the bar, she lifted her hand and waved as if he hadn’t already seen her. The smile she gave him was breathtaking. I hadn’t seen it in what felt like decades.

Harry’s expression never changed. He stared at her with bored disinterest. To any other person he would have appeared completely unaffected by her presence. But I caught the twitch of his jaw, the way he gripped his jacket at his sides, and the tense way he held his shoulders. It was killing him not to go to her. Lifting a radio, he spoke into it before exiting through a door at the back of the bar. Moments later a tall guy dressed in black with the club’s logo approached Aloura. He leaned down and said something to her, which caused her to start frantically waving her hands at the back door Harry had exited. The guy shook his head and took hold of her arm, ushering her away from the bar. That’s when I stepped in. She screamed at me that I needed to help her see the cocky bastard. But I simply shook my head.

By coming here, it had clarified something vital to me. Harry would do absolutely anything to protect Aloura. Which meant the sick fucker was still out there.

Didn’t stop Aloura bitching at me the entire ride home. She went from a raging lunatic to whiney and now we were in the hit hard, fast, and fucking destroy mode.

It appeared Aloura liked angry sex. When we walked into the house, she pressed herself against my front and gyrated her fit body against me. Her grabby hands were on my cock, my ass, trying to pull my shirt off. You name it, the little witch tried it. And I was being a total gentleman. Well, my head was, the one on top of my shoulders. The one in my pants wanted to get down and dirty and take what it had been dying for. She presented me with her fine ass as she bent over in front of me and grasped her ankles. “Have you ever fucked like this, Ryan? All you have to do it pull down my jeans. I can guarantee I’m ready for you.”

I ignored her and stepped around her, avoiding touching her at all costs. But she wasn’t giving up.

She quickly came at me and placed her hands on my chest, blocking my way up the stairs. She laced her fingers, locking them around my neck.

“What about a fast fuck? No strings?” She grinned up at me with a lascivious smile. I barely recognised the woman before me.

“No.” I yanked at her hands. Gripping her wrists, I pulled them from around my neck and set them beside her. I sidestepped her and raced up the stairs, desperate to put my bedroom door between us.

Aloura slid her fingers into my belt at the back of my pants and followed. Christ, she wasn’t giving in, and I refused to allow our time together to be in anger.

“Let go,” I demanded in a tone I knew had no force behind it.

She flinched but held on, tightening her fingers around the leather at my waist. I unbuckled my belt, and she let out a happy squeal. At her momentary lapse I turned and grasped her shoulder, herding her towards her room. She clearly thought I’d given in and was about to give her the goods. Once she was over the threshold of her room, I spun to leave.

“What? Where are you going?”

“I’m not interested. Stay in your room.” I punctuated my words by pointing to the floor.

“What? You fuck whores, but you won’t fuck me? I have money, Ryan. If that’s what it takes to get your dick inside me,” she snarled, The disgusted curl of her lips was at total war with the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Darling, little girls don’t play with men like me,”

Aloura was taken aback at first, but she squared her shoulders, and I watched in awe as my girl readied for battle. Fuck she was beautiful.

“You’re pathetic. You talk bullshit, Ryan. Big man, injured fucking hero, it’s all bollocks. You’re a scared
little
boy who has no idea how to handle a
woman
like me,” she spat. Her chest was heaving, and her words would have destroyed me inside if it wasn’t for the trembling of her lip, the glistening tears in her eyes, and her hands shaking at her sides.

“Or, could it be a man like me would never
want
a woman so desperate? I’ve fucked for money, darling, but none of those clients oozed need like you do. I can taste it. You’re gagging for it.”

My resolve almost buckled when honest to God agony flashed in her eyes. For a split second her face crumpled, and I was certain she would break. I hoped for it. But the little fire cracker locked it down tight. She turned, grabbed her purse, and poured the contents onto the bed.

Fuck me,
how much shit does someone need? It was like a Tardis of female shit all over the bed. My eyes locked on the sealed pack of rubbers. She fumbled around and grabbed the pack of condoms and slapped them against my chest. She lifted some bills in front of my face, offered me a bitter smile before pushing them deep into the pockets of my jeans.

“I don’t know the going rate. I’ve never had to fuck a whore before. But I’m willing to pay.” Her voice trembled. I had no clue how to end this madness, but she was hurting, and all I wanted was to make it stop. People had intentionally hurt me, wounded me deep. But this wasn’t Aloura’s intention. She wanted to feel something other than pain. That I could understand. I cupped her cheek, she leaned into my touch and closed her eyes. Somewhere hidden under all that false bravado was the woman who had nestled deeply into my heart, and I was determined to pull her out.

“Aloura,” I whispered.

Her beautiful doe eyes snapped open. The fire in them had my hackles rising. She wasn’t ready to submit to her pain yet. She was going to fight until one of us was bleeding.

Well, sweetheart, you are worth the torture.

I stared down at her, daring her. Desperate for her to make a move.

“Stop being so bloody
weak.
If you can’t do it, I’ll call a better man.”

It’s strange, learning what can snap your resolve. But my trigger, the one to push me a little too far, was the thought of another man inside
my
Aloura. Another fucker with his hands on
her.
She wanted the beast, the monster I once was. She had just woken him, and he was going to fight dirty to keep his woman.

I wrapped my hand around her throat and urged her to step backwards where I pinned her to the door. Her eyes widened at my sudden movement.

“You want me to fuck you? You want to
pay
me. You want what they had?” I snarled against her ear.

“Y-y-yes,” she stammered. Aloura turned her head towards me, seeking my mouth. I pulled away from her and schooled my expression. I cast the dead shadow over my gaze I’d adorned for years and glared at her. My stomach rolled, but I would show her what side of me they
stole
and what side I wanted to
give
to Aloura.

Lifting my hand from her throat, I grasped her jaw and tilted her face away from me. “Firstly, my mouth will not touch any part of your body. You don’t deserve that. You want me to fuck you, so that is
all
you get. My dick, nothing else.” If I let her kiss me, this would be over.

God, I hoped to Christ she broke soon because I couldn’t do this, not with her. I couldn’t let the fucked up shit taint her beauty. I wanted to make love to her, not this. I knew I was barbaric in bed. Why men and women had come back to me for years baffled and sickened me. I wasn’t kind. I made it abundantly clear I hated every single one of them. But they never had what Aloura had. They never had my mouth, my kisses, my affection. I never touched them with an ounce of adoration.

She was slowly destroying me, and she had no idea how hard this was going to be for me to do
for
her. She was lost, and I was determined to find my Aloura again. She had fought for me. I had been a total bastard to her, but she had weathered the storm. I would do the same for her.

“Fine,” she uttered and lifted her chin in stubborn resolve. I closed my eyes momentarily praying to anything that would listen to give me the strength to bring her home.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the instant she realised
her
Ryan wasn’t in the room. She was seeing the dead man, that man who hated the world.

I stepped away from her. “Strip.” I pulled the cash from my pocket and pretended to be counting it, making an obvious show of straightening out the bills. I had no idea how much was in my hand because I was concentrating on stopping my hands shaking. The next line out of my mouth was a line I had used far, far too many times.

“There is enough here for half an hour. Limits?”

I watched as she swallowed. She clutched at the front of her shirt. Those dainty hands were shaking so violently there was no way she would be able to unbutton her shirt. And I never stripped clients.
Ever.

“Limits?” she asked, her voice was so hoarse with trepidation I wanted to scream at her. Her innocence to my world was both beautiful and terrifying.

I rolled my eyes and lifted my shoulder in a bored shrug. “Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, pussy, mouth, or all three? But that will cost more.”

Her lips parted on a slight gasp.

“You’re running out of time.” I glanced at my watch. “Strip, get on the bed.” I turned away from her, unable to see the frightened pain in her eyes. Resuming my usual position, I stood by the foot of the bed, stoic, unfeeling, and dead inside. But it was all an act, a lie. Unlike every other time I had done this, I felt every fucking emotion. It sunk into my skin, crawled over me, and claimed me as I watched the woman I was certain I was in love with dissolving piece by piece before me.

Break, Aloura.

Just fucking come back to me.

Don’t make me do this.

I didn’t know whether to be proud or shake the shit out of her when she stepped forward. With hands trembling so hard she struggled to unfasten her shirt. Finally the fabric slid from her body to the floor. I watched her with hard detached indifference. Her lip quivered, and I could finally,
finally
see my Aloura shining through. Relief coursed through me, but I refused to show any of that until she was back in my arms. Slowly, she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her legs. When she slid her fingers into the elastic of her panties, she looked at me with pleading in her gaze.

“Do you want to take them off?” she asked quietly. A gentle hopeful smile curved her lips.

“No. I don’t strip clients.” She flinched at my words, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.