Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3) (7 page)

“Mom, he used to beat the shit out of us,” my tone comes out far too harsh.

“Do you remember what he was like before he got mean?”

I sigh, “Not really.”

“He used to dance, “Mom smiles, “He loved to dance.”

I blink quickly, trying my best to fight back the tears, “Celia Cruz.”

“Yeah,” Mom’s smile widens, “He loved dancing to her music. He would pick you up in his arms and twirl you around,” Mom laughs, “And you two would sing in Spanish at the top of your lungs. I was always afraid the neighbors would call on us for all the noise you two would make.”

Memories, ones that I had long forgotten, flash through my mind. Before all of our problems began, Dad would sing and dance. When Dad’s car wreck fractured the discs in his back, the dancing stopped. The singing stopped. The laughter and his big bear hugs stopped. All that was left was a broken man who turned to drinking and anger to manage the pain the injury left behind.

My tears began to fall. That’s what Vince was missing. He did all of the things that I truly needed, but there were no bear hugs, there was no singing, and there was definitely no dancing to Celia Cruz.

“Every time I hear Latin music, I always think of you and your father dancing together in the kitchen. You weren’t even in school yet,” Mom lets out a sigh, “He loved you so much back then. That’s how I know he still loves you. The pain and the alcohol just clouded him.”

“He didn’t smell like alcohol when we found him at the arena,” I mutter, despite the lump in my throat, “He actually seemed sober and like he was thinking clearly.”

“Maybe he’s trying to change,” Mom wipes at her tears, “I always hoped that he would.”

I close my eyes, “I just can’t handle getting my hopes up. That’s all I did when I was a teenager.”

“I know, baby,” Mom wraps her arm around me, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you never wanted anything to do with him ever again, I certainly wouldn’t blame you.”

I wipe away the tears running down my cheeks, “Luke thinks I should try.”

“But for this Natasha… for this, it doesn’t matter what Luke thinks,” Mom stares directly into my eyes, “This is
your
decision. Neither Luke, nor I, nor your dad can make this choice for you.”

“No pressure,” I snort.

“There doesn’t have to be. I can even call him for you, if ever you tell me to, and let him know you don’t ever want to hear from him again. I can tell him to leave you alone.”

“Mom… he said he’s dying.”

My mother looks as if the wind has been knocked out of her. Several seconds pass before she’s able to respond, “How?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think he was lying to me.”

“I guess,” Mom says slowly, “when you abuse your body as long as he has, it’ll catch up to you. This doesn’t mean you have to talk to him. He chose this life.”

Silence passes between us as she and I sit together, our arms wrapped around one another. She and I both allow our tears to freely fall; tears that we have held inside for over a decade. As the moments pass, it becomes clearer to me as to what I want to do. It isn’t a need, or a personal demand, but it is something I truly want to do to become a better person.

“I’m not going to have any regrets,” I finally break the silence, “Not when it comes to him.”

My mom smiles softly, “I support you, no matter what you decide to do.”

She and I hug for what feels like an eternity. Neither one of us have been this close, this open, with one another in years. After years of harboring so much bitterness within me, I finally feel like little pieces of it are beginning to chip away, revealing the innocence I had locked deep away within me, after my father began to drink.

Mom sniffles as she draws away from me, “I suppose I had better be going. Vincent is wrapping up his business here, and he wants to try to go back home this weekend.”

“Okay,” I wipe my tear-stained nose, “Thank you so much for staying as long as you did. Luke and I needed it while I recovered.”

“Just pick up the phone if you need us and Vince and I will take the first flight up here.”

“I will,” I smile, “I feel safer here.”

“Well it doesn’t hurt that your boyfriend scares away any potential threats, on top of being very cute,” Mom winks.

I roll my eyes, “Stop checking out my boyfriend, Mom!”

Mom chortles, “You did very well there, baby girl.”

“I know I did,” I wink back.

As we both rise up out of the bed, I notice a couple of boxes in the corner that I don’t recognize. My mom follows my gaze.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” She walks over to the pile, “I went by your old place and grabbed the last of the load. Most of it looked like your work stuff. A few binders and such.”

“I’ve been looking for those!” I walk over to the box and quickly open it, hoping to find my blue binder that I use to take notes of any events I have to write about.

“They’re are in the other box. That one is a box of stuff I guess the cleaners found. A Breakfast Club poster from your bedroom door, some stuff I’m guessing they bought in from the garden, your old pocket knife, and there was some stuff like toilet paper rolls that I just threw out, nothing important.”

Old pocket knife?

My eyes are immediately drawn to an object glistening against the light. My body begins to tremble.

Shaking, I pull the blade out from within the box, dried blood still caked onto the hilt.

I take a sip of the hot tea, allowing the warm liquid to soothe my body. Its been so long since Cam and I have gone to our special little cafe, that I had forgotten just how delicious their tea was.

“When did he say the forensics should be in?”

Cam always knows how to throw off my zen.

“Well, Sloan wouldn’t tell me much, but one of the other officers talked to me about these new rapid DNA testing facilities. Apparently they only takes hours to process samples instead of I guess, what used to take much longer.”

“Damn, that's fast, but hasn’t it been a few days already?” Cam takes a sip from her coffee.

“Sure, so I suppose they still need to take me seriously enough to move me into a priority queue. It’s anyone’s guess. Days is the minimum, but it could be as much as months with the speed and enthusiasm they are giving my case. And although I’m glad he’s not around, Derrick has skipped town. Even if forensics do come in, they'll still have to track him down.”

A chill runs down my spine from saying his name.

“What did the detective say when you told him you found the knife?”

“Ugh…” I groan, “He talked about sample deterioration and the processes involved in doing forensic testing. He sounded totally put off by it. Like I was interrupting his vacation, or something.”

“What a dick,” Cam sneers, “If he had a vagina, Derrick would be rotting in a cell by now.”

“No kidding,” I chortle, “I’m just glad it’s finally going somewhere. There’s hope.”

“I bet,” Cam glances down at her watch, “Oh shit. I've gotta go.”

My brows arch, “What's wrong?”

“I’m suppose to be tutoring this Marine in five minutes. I totally lost track of time.”

“Oh, a Marine?” I smirk.

“Former Marine,” Cam grins, “He's pretty hot, too.”

“Don't forget, no student teacher shit.”

“Pfft, I don't screw my students.”

“Maybe you need a hunky Marine to help you change your policy,” I wink.

Cam rolls her eyes, “Whatever. You can have all the muscle bound dildos. I'll stick to more sophisticated thespians.”

“I thought you weren't their type. Like, you know, judging by the fact you’ve crushed on three of these thespians so far that turned out to prefer the other team.”

“Goodbye, Tash,” Cam chortles as she hastily leaves the cafe.

I smile as I take a sip from my drink. Finally, some peace with nothing but me and my chamomile tea.

Moments pass as I sit in silence. Suddenly, a chill inches slowly down my spine, as if a soft breeze was blowing across my back. But the breeze felt strange, like it was dangerous. I turn my head to look behind me. Through the door I make out the flash of a bald head glistening in the sunlight walking away from the cafe.

***

When my headlights flash across Luke’s car, I sigh in relief. He’s home, which means, I won’t be going into my house alone. I park my car beside his, my white knuckles finally letting go of the steering wheel.

I never got a clear look at him, but the man that I saw outside the cafe has kept me spooked all day long. You get to know how a person walks, how they hold themselves, and their shape. Even from a distance, I’d been almost certain. And while I was at work, I couldn’t help but still be rattled by the encounter and felt like someone was watching me. Thankfully, my boss didn’t seem to mind my odd request of having him walk with me to my car as we were leaving work. He’d just spent the entire time talking my ear off about the next article he would like to see me write, and what he’d like to do with the online edition if we could get some good video guys on board.

Taking in a deep breath, I try to shake off the tension before I walk inside the house. Luke can always tell when I’m anxious about something, and since I never told him about the encounter I had at the cafe, it would be better if he just assumed I was frazzled from work. He would never let me leave his side if he thought Derrick was stalking me.

I gather up my things and step out of the car. Immediately, I can tell something is different. Through the window in the front of the house, I can see a dim light flickering from the kitchen. My senses heighten. It’s not at all like Luke to set up something romantic. He’s far too casual, which I love. And after a day like today, I’m certainly not going to let my guard down.

As I cautiously open the door, the aroma of warm herbs and creamy sauce invades my nostrils, momentarily causing me to forget about how ragged I’m feeling in order to pursue whatever the hell smells so fine. I follow the scent into the dining room. The sight before me makes me stop in my tracks.

Luke flashes his perfect all American boy grin, “Hi, beautiful.”

The kitchen table is outfitted in a way I’ve only seen in fancy restaurants. Luke has gone all out with the candles, with them strewn throughout the dining room and along the table. The place settings are perfect, which actually shocks me because I had no idea Luke even knew where the forks and knives were supposed to go. A large serving of what looks like seafood Alfredo is piled high onto one of the plates. And standing beside the ravishing looking setting, is Luke, grinning from ear to ear and dressed in the same clothes he wore when I first met him.

“What’s all this?” I ask, looking around wide-eyed and amazed.

Luke strides over towards me and helps me with my things. He gently lays my purse and binders on the counter beside us, then turns his attention back to me. His hazel eyes are sparkling in such a way that I’ve never seen them do. I’m quickly drawn into their beauty, forgetting all about whatever happened today.

“I’m not very good at this kind of stuff, but I thought I would give it a try,” Luke says, as he leans in to kiss me.

His soft lips taste faintly of wine, making them even more delicious than usual. I’m reminded of the way his mouth felt against my folds, and my sex responds to the memory with a yearning that would need to wait. The smell of the food reminds me that I’m hungry, drawing my attention back to the present.

“I’d say you did a good job,” I whisper against his lips.

“Only say that
after
you’ve tasted the food. That’ll be the real test,” Luke chortles.

“You cooked it yourself?” I asked, stunned.

The most I’ve ever seen Luke cook is microwave oatmeal, and even then, he somehow managed to burn it.

“I might have had a little help from the Food Network channel,” Luke chuckles.

I giggle, “Well if it tastes as good as it smells, you’ll be in charge of cooking from now on.”

Luke plants a soft peck against my nose, “Not a chance.”

I roll my eyes, “Lets just eat. We’ll figure out domestic duties later.”

“I can think of some domestic duties I’d like to do later,” Luke mutters, as he trails his fingers down my neck and along my collar bone.

Instinctually, my body leans itself towards him. I close my eyes, hoping he’ll want to just skip dinner altogether.

Luke draws his hands away from me and grins, “Like you said, though, lets eat.”

I open my eyes and frown, “That was mean.”

“I’m sure I can find a way to earn your forgiveness,” he mutters as he takes my hand into his.

He leads me over to the table and pulls out my chair. I can’t help but feel self-conscious of the massive grin etched across my face. His chivalry is not at all shocking, but just the whole setting in general is making me ridiculously giddy. The devious look on his face only amps up the way I’m feeling, as if he’s intentionally hiding the best part and saving it for later.

I sit down and take a sip of the peppery Zinfandel Luke has poured for me. We haven’t had wine in a while, nor did we have any seafood in the house, so he must have had all of this planned in order to get it all and cook it in time before I got home from work. Luke props his arms up on the table and rests his chin against the back of his hands. I can tell he’s waiting for me to try the food, but I take my time, savoring the wine. If he’s going to torture me with denying my immediate desire for sexual release, I’m going to torture him by taking my time before trying the first proper meal he’s ever cooked.