Threat (29 page)

I kind of lose track of time as he works. It
takes longer than I expected and I start to wish I had chosen to lie
down like he offered.

“Is it almost done?” I ask,
attempting to look down.

“Don't move,” he commands. “And
it's a little past half way.”

Sheesh. At least, now, I'm getting used to the
pain. I close my eyes as I grip the hem of my dress, and try to
distract myself and stay as still as possible. I focus on my
breathing—in and out, in and out.

“You're good to go.”

My eyes snap open. Is it really over? I
excitedly look down at my hip to see...a white bandage. My smile
automatically disappears.

“What's that?”

“Uh, I bandaged it up for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I just jammed a needle into your
skin a thousand times.”

“So, I don't get to see it?”

“Take the bandage off in four hours.
You'll see it then.”

“I want to see it now,” I whine.

“Sorry. Can't.”

I eye him with suspicion. “You put
something weird or gross on me, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “I guess you'll find out in
four hours.”

I let my skirt fall and cover the bandage. The
suspense is killing me, and David loves every minute of this.

He stands up and starts to put away his tools
and then it hits me—it's over. I can't think of any possible
way to extend the night, or excuses to spend more time with him, and
worst of all I don't know why I want to. I should hate him. He might
have saved me tonight but it's not enough to make up for the things
he tried to do to me in the past.

I turn and pick up my purse from the floor.
“Um, thanks,” I say to him awkwardly.

“For?”

“You know what for,” I mumble as I
move towards the door.

“Where exactly are you going?”

“Home.”

“You plan to walk?”

Shit
. I completely forgot I have no idea
where I am, or how to get to the subway.

“Just hold on a sec and I'll take you
home.”

“You can just take me to the subway,”
I tell him as he reaches for his keys.

“What, are you trying to get away from me
or something? There's no way in hell you're getting on the subway
alone, at this time of night. Just sit tight for a sec and I'll take
you home.”

I make sure to hide the smile that plays on my
lips at how protective he is over me.

*

“Wow. Some place you've got here,”
Threat says as he peaks out of the passenger side door at my dorm.

“Please, you've been here before and you
know what it looks like on the inside.”

“Yeah, but it's bigger than I remember.”

I reach to unbuckle my seat belt. So this is
it. What now? I might run into Threat again, since we live in the
same city and all. Do we try to become friends now, or something?
Acquaintances? Or worse, what if I never see him again at all?

“You know, you really should come back
home. My dad is over the whole thing at the lake. And your mom would
like to see you.”

“Is that a personal invitation?”

“It's your house too. You don't exactly
need my invitation.”

“It's my mom's house, not mine.”

“You spent Christmas alone. Christmas and
Thanksgiving. “

“I wasn’t alone. Trust me, there's
more guys out here without families than you think.”

“You have family.”

“So does this mean you've forgiven me? Or
you just pity me?”

I sigh, letting my head fall back against the
seat. Truth be told, I don't know what I feel. It's like I feel
everything at the same time—sadness, anger, lust, regret—and
can't decipher any of it. I liked it better when I didn't feel
anything at all.

“Goodnight, David,” I say as I pop
the car door open. He's too fast for me, reaching over and grabbing
the door, and pulling it shut.

“I never got over you,” he whispers
to me. “And I'm not afraid to admit that.”

I'm frozen in silence by the sound of his voice
in my ear and the close proximity to his body. How is it that after
all this time he still has this effect on me? Is it a personal flaw
that makes me respond to him like this?
This
is the same guy who tried to use you for his own gain.

But he didn’t.

His arm falls around my waist, his hand gently
touching my stomach. My body trembles as he nuzzles his face into the
crook of my neck.

“It's getting late, I have to go,”
I mumble as I attempt to push the door open again, only for him to
hold it shut. Again. “Threat, stop.”

“
David.
Threat's dead, remember?”

I turn to him and say, “Then stop acting
like Threat.”

He smirks, revealing that dimple beneath his
scruff that makes me furious and drives me wild all at the same time.
“Tigers don't change their stripes, you know?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I still am who I am, even if I'm not
Threat anymore.”

“I don't have time to listen to your
silly riddles. I'm tired and still in pain and I have to study. So if
you'd please—”

“Just answer me one question.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

“Do you still fucking hate me?”

That's a good question. I glance away and
ponder it for a moment—not the answer, because I already know
that, but how much I want to reveal to him. I turn back to him,
prepared to lie, but I can't. Not when I stare straight into those
dark eyes, the ones that seem to only warm and glow for me. Maybe he
meant those things he said to me back in my dorm nine months ago?

No, I know better than this. I've been hurt too
many times by too many people to know that they can't change.

“Do you know why I came out tonight?”
I ask.

“So now you're asking
me
questions? Alright, truth.”

I ignore him. “Because my roommate is a
total bitch and I knew that, but yet, she's popular as hell and I
haven't made a single friend since I've been here. And do you know
why that is?” He doesn't answer. “Because I don't fucking
trust anyone. I'd rather be alone and sane than to let people in and
wait for them to stab me in the fucking back.” My voice breaks
as I speak. David's whole demeanor shifts—he grows sullen and
his shoulders sag. “So no, I don't hate you any more David. In
fact, I don't think I ever really did. I couldn't hate you if I
tried. But I don't fucking
trust
you.”

Again, he doesn't look shocked by my
revelation, just sad.

“You don't have to trust me yet,”
he says softly. “Just love me.”

That's the last thing I expected him to say.
“What?! How can I love you if I don't trust you?”

“You already do.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Tears threaten my
eyes. Is it really that fucking obvious? Hell, it wasn't even obvious
to me. Out of all of the dirty, rotten tricks David Banducci has
played, making me fall in love with him was the cruelest of them all.

“That doesn't make—” Before I
can finish my sentence he takes me and pulls my lips against his.

Sense. It doesn't make sense.

But nothing does anymore.

“It doesn't have to,” he says,
holding my forehead against his. “You might not trust me now,
but you will. Because I won't give you a single reason not to.”

I pull away from him and wipe away my tears. My
voice warbles when I open my lips to speak. “I can't. I'm
sorry.”

I have to practically force myself out of that
car and away from him. I tell myself not to look back, slamming the
door behind me and racing up over the lawn.

“I won't stop, you know that right?”
David calls out to me. “I'm going to be something some day. I'm
going to be worthy of you.”

I stop and turn to see him leaning up against
his car. “It was never about that. It's not about your job, or
how much money you make. I don't care about any of that.”

“Yeah, I know you don't, but it means
something to me,” he says, starting towards me.

“So you admit all of this has been for
me?”

“Not all of it. Just most of it. You were
the catalyst,” he explains. “I never worked hard because
I never had anything worth working for.”

“What makes you think I'm worth it?”

Now, finally, I've caught him off guard.
“Because I love you, Leah. And I know somewhere deep down you
love me too.” I look away, but he takes me by the waist and
pulls me against him. “I know you don't trust me yet, but maybe
it's not a change you need to make. Maybe you just need to take a
risk.”

“I swear if you hurt me again—”

He shakes his head and clenches his teeth. “I
won't fucking hurt you again,
ever
,” he says, his
fingers locking in my hair. “I'm not perfect and you know that
damn well but all I'm going to do is protect you. And love you.
Because that's all I
want
to do. You got that?”

I bite my lip hard as I stare into that perfect
face of his, and fiery, longing eyes that promise me the world.
Opening my heart to him is the hardest thing I've ever done; is the
risk worth the reward? Yes, I know now that it is.

Closing my eyes tight I give him a teary nod.

“Say it, Leah,” he growls, cupping
my face in his strong, yet oddly gently grip. “I want to
fucking hear you say it—”

“Yes,” I nod wildly, “Yes,
yes, yes.”

When he grabs me and kisses me hard, I don't
hold back. And when he hikes me up into his arms, howling with joy, I
don't cry but laugh in his joy. Because I know that I am
unequivocally his, and he is mine.

Then I take his hand and drag him back to his
car.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

I shrug. “You tell me. Any where but
here.”

We fall against the car, him pinning me against
the hunk of metal with his strong body, my arms wrapped tightly
around his shoulders.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, his eyes fixed
on me. “I see a pier, and a big, blue ocean. And plenty of
boats we can steal.”

I wiggle my brows. “Well what are you
waiting for? Take me.”

His lips curl, as if to tell me he plans on
taking me many, many times. He steals another kiss before letting me
go and racing around to the drivers side. I pour into my seat,
watching him as he climbs in beside me and turns on the ignition. It
sounds like freedom, and the long stretch of road in front of us is a
path to paradise.

He puts his finger to his lip and says, “Wait,
don't you have to study for class?”

I giggle. “Fuck class.”

He looks at me with pride in his eyes. “Now
that's my girl.”

“Hmm. A little to the left. No, a little
bit more.”

Edgar gives me the evil eye and I resist the
urge to laugh. Him and Juan have had their arms full of sleek leather
furniture and bold, oversized artwork all afternoon while my
indecisive ass directs them with the tip of my finger.

“You just fucking said right, like, two
seconds before that,” he says.

“Hey, you watch your mouth or you'll be
out on your ass.”

Juan snickers. “Well look who's getting
full of themselves?”

“He's full of something,” Edgar
mutters beneath his breath.

“I'm not full of anything. This place
just needs to look fucking perfect,” I say with my arms folded
firmly across my chest. “And right now, it looks like shit.”
Besides, those two assholes didn't show up two weeks ago when I had
to paint this damn place by my self.

Well, almost by myself.

Edgar drops his end of the sofa. “Shit?”
He glances around the room. “Are we looking at the same shop,
or are you spending some time in an alternate dimension right now?”

“Yeah, seriously,” says Juan. “I'm
not complaining, but this place looks fucking pristine, bro.”

Okay, this place does look pretty bad ass. I
did it up in vivid lime green and black, with modern furniture and
speckled floors shiny enough to see your reflection in. I topped the
place off with a black and white, floor to ceiling mural on the back
wall, painted by yours truly. It looks more like a night club than a
tattoo shop, which is a vast improvement over the weird sterile vibe
the space had back when it was Inklings. But Wasted Ink still isn't
perfect. And any work of mine has to be fucking perfect.

I rush across the room towards them. “Fine,
I'll do it myself, like I do every other damn thing around here by
myself.”

“I think you've done enough.”

Leah's voice cuts through the room. I glance
towards the back of the shop, to see her leaning casually against the
wall right outside of her office. I can't help but smirk at her
authoritative stance. She really thinks she's in charge here, and
that she has me tamed. As adorable as it is, she's in for a huge
surprise.