Brutal (7 page)

She turns to leave, but stops just short of the door and walks over to me and looks up to me then says quietly, “It was really nice meeting you, Detective. Maybe I’ll be seeing you. Maybe I won’t, but be safe out there, yeah? Keep an eye on him, too, he’s all I’ve got left.” She looks me in the eyes when she says it and, just like that, she's gone. Even though she left the room I can still feel her on my skin, and I feel the loss immediately.

I look over at the Captain, who looks as shitty as I feel, and he says, “Either way, you can track her now, Rogan. You need to be ready for what happens next, so secure that position by any means necessary. I need you to take care of our girl, whether she says yes or not.”

“Shit is going from bad to worse, Captain. We’ve got to take our city back, and you’re doing what needs to be done. I don’t want her caught in the crossfire, either, so I’m behind you. She’s taking you setting her up pretty well,” I offer

“The things she had to suffer…it changed her, Rogan. She was hell on wheels as a kid, but she was a good kid – just a sweet daddy's little girl. He wouldn’t have wanted this for her. If she did take those two bastards out, I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to see it. She’s lucky to be alive, but you know what worries me most? It’s that I truly believe she doesn’t care one way or another if she dies doing it. I had no choice but to set tonight up. Venessa and that club are key. She’s smart, she knows I set her up, and she played the game well, gave away nothing, like her dad”

“There’s more,” I say.

“Gallo wants her, and that’s a problem, too. More to the point, he’s a problem. Last I heard, she didn’t date much, if at all, but I don’t want Gallo anywhere near her. She’s ‘live’, so I want to hear exactly what goes down when she gets to that club, and I want to know who she associates with, who her friends are, what her hobbies are, what color her living room is…the works. Until the time is right, you keep to the shadows, let her think we’ve stepped back. Call me in the morning and fill me in,” he says and walks away, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

I can relate. I should feel guilty that I’m about to steal her privacy, but I’m not. I need to know everything there is to know about Venessa Cross, too. No amount of guilt could stop me.

A
s I slide into the town car, it was all I could do to not turn around and look back at the Detective. I could feel his eyes on me, and it bothers me that it
doesn’t
bother me. The same eyes I felt on me the second I was walked into the station. I give men a wide berth, I don’t date, and I certainly don’t have sex. I’m too fucked up. Afraid. I’m not even ashamed to admit it. My short stint the hospital after the attack proved two things, one I wasn’t given any diseases thank fuck and two when and if I decided to ever be intimate with someone he would have to have the patience of a saint and balls of steel. Ten years have passed and though I have urges like any other woman, fear kept me from finding a man and taking that next step. That’s what vibrators are for right? Plus, I need the control. Deep down though, that fear took a back seat tonight and something else took its place…fucking confusion.

That Detective made me feel things I have no business feeling. Vulnerable, desired, and protected. I can’t even reconcile myself to this madness right now, and all over holding onto him like my life depended on it, the fact that it felt right. God, I wanted to crawl onto his lap when the man never even said one word. It was his eyes, though. For a man who doesn’t say much, his eyes say everything his mouth doesn’t. I can tell he’s as fucked up as I am on some level. This man appeals to me on every fucked up level I’ve got.

He’s probably younger than he looks, but at 6’4”, 275 lbs, shaved head, beard, tattoos, built like a tank. He isn’t muscular, he’s one big muscle, and he’s the ultimate alpha male. If I had to guess, I would say he doesn’t smile much, but if he did, I’d throw my panties at his feet and beg for his cock. Which, for me, is fucking scary shit. Being raped changed me, hardened me. Mostly because I didn’t have my mom and dad to help me through it. I’m not against sex or intimacy, I’ve just never found someone I can trust to see me through that, either. Seeing him standing there, then him holding onto me, I saw it in his eyes and I felt it. I could trust him; I could trust everything with him if I wanted to. And, yeah, I wanted to.

Women as a whole would consider him ugly. In fact, I’m certain most would take one look at him and run, but the second he filled that room, he was the
only
thing I saw and felt. The most brutal thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have to be a part of his life, the biggest part. If I didn’t know better, I would swear our breathing was in sync, that’s how I know he’s what I’ve waited for. My mom’s voice drifts through me, and I fight for my breath while unshed tears burn. It was like she just said it yesterday at dinner but like any kid, I didn’t listen, I didn’t get it then.

Before Maddy was born, Mom and I did everything together, and my mom loved to talk about everything, too. She was so sweet and wise, always seeing the good. Every year, we went to the orchard and she asked me to find the biggest, scariest, most out of place pumpkin to buy. I asked her why. She told me because it was the unique ones that made the sweetest pie.

Every year, we went to pick out our Christmas tree, she told me to pick out the saddest, most  damaged and loneliest tree to buy. I asked her why. She told me that all trees started out the same. They were each a seed that took root, depending on who cared for them. Some grew to be huge trees that held more ornaments than we would ever have, then were those that hardly grew at all because they were forgotten. It was those trees that needed love. We always picked that tree, we always made it beautiful, and we loved that tree all season. She was right, she was always right. Since I was a kid, I’ve always looked for the pumpkin and the tree in the crowd, and it only took twenty seven years for me to find mine.

That’s him; the detective. At first glance, you would want to forget you’ve seen him, but I can’t do it. He’s my pumpkin, he’s my tree, and thanks to my Mom, I get it now. All my life I looked for one or the other. The pumpkin or the tree but the second he walked into that room I realized he’s both. God’s honest? I never expected to find one let alone both.

I’d like to hold onto my mom’s memory a little longer, think of his big rough hands running circles over mine and have him in my mind when I sleep tonight, along with lyrics running through my head for this occasion, but as soon as that thought creeps in, reality knocks on my door in the form of Anthony Gallo. Getting interrogated twice in one night…a party it does not make, and I still have these tights up my ass. Awesome.

“There you are. I was beginning to worry. Come in and get settled while I get you something to drink. You look tired, baby, I don’t like to see you like this,” he says, like he has any right to say it at all.

“I’m fine. Does Max need me for the final set?” I ask, hoping to escape and lose myself to my music. I need some relief.

“No, he’s going insane with worry for you. The boys are holding it down. We’re going to Max’s office, otherwise the crowd will go nuts when they see you. You caused quite a riot tonight, baby, and the DPD is going to pay for that. Come,” he softly demands, and it’s pissing me off. For better or for worse, the DPD is my family, whether I choose to recognize them publicly or not.

We head back to Max’s office, and though word spreads that I’m back, we’re not bothered by the masses.

“Sit and let me look at you,” he says, and I wonder if I have something on my face.

“Tony, its fine. I’m fine. I’m told it was just a misunderstanding. So why am I here? What’s going on? Where’s Max?” I fire questions at him so I can get the fuck outta here.

“Right here, doll,” he says, hugging me hard. “Fucking DPD. They fucked up tonight, coming in here and messing with you. It won’t happen again,” he growls.

“My hair was found at a crime scene, so they brought me in for questioning, but the men sent here misread the order. When they figured it out, I was free to go, once I caught up with the Captain. So can we please just let this go?” I ask, acting bored, like it didn’t matter that I was covering for the Captain.

“What you don’t understand is that security should have never allowed anyone that close to you. This isn’t the first time someone’s gotten too close, but it is the last. Max and I are going to hire someone to guard you,” Tony decrees.

“Hold up, what do you mean this isn’t the first time? You both knew, and never told me? What the fuck!” I yell.

“Baby, we didn’t want to worry you. You get in a zone up there, and these guys don’t realize that it’s an act, and they think they can get close to you. They think they know you; they think Kharma is real. That kind of behavior escalates. But it will not happen again. We have someone coming in tomorrow, so it’s done, and you can relax,” he says, his word apparently being law. And a part of me hopes the Captain does figure out a way to get the Detective the job.

“Do I have a say in this?” I ask, suddenly exhausted and thrilled at the same time.

“No,” they reply in unison.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I need to get home and crash…I’m beat. Can the rest wait until tomorrow?”

“Max, I’ll be taking her home. We’ll finish this talk tomorrow.”

“Alright. Lunch tomorrow, Kharma?” Max asks

“Yeah,” I answer. “Girl's gotta eat.” I kiss his cheek goodbye, knowing we’ll never have lunch. I don’t “do” lunch.

“Come on, baby, I need to get you alone for a bit,” Tony says and I kind of  snap.

“Tony, stop! I’m not a kid okay? We don’t need to be alone, so spit it out already. What is going on with you?”

“Fine, we can do this here, if that’s what you want.” He grates this at me leaning me into the wall and instantly, I don’t like it. “I’m a man who gets what he wants. What is it that I want? I want you. No, I
need
you, and believe me I don’t like it. I don’t like needing
anyone
. Fuck, I burn for you, Venessa. I waited to see if you had interest in someone else but you didn’t. So tonight, when those motherfuckers dared to put their hands on what’s mine, I decided I couldn’t wait for you to come to me. I’m done waiting. Come home with me tonight, baby. I’ll spend the night showing you how much I need you,” he says.

I want to make a run for it. Like, marathon that shit. This is, by far, the most backwards night I’ve ever had. Not thirty minutes ago, I met a man (kind of) that I wanted to lose myself in for the first time in my adult life. Then I come back here to get my car and get this, from probably the most beautiful man walking the planet, but I don’t burn for him in return. I’m on fire for a man I’ve yet to hear speak, and I find myself wondering what my name sounds like coming out of that mouth.

“Shit, Tony, really?” I say waving my hands around. “You’re
you
and I’m a DJ with issues. You haven’t seen me with anyone, because I don’t date. There’s a good reason for that. I don’t know what to say or do right now, okay? I went from being arrested for suspicion of murder, to getting propositioned to a sleepover, minus the sleeping. This is just too much. And forgive me for saying this, but I don’t feel the sincerity here. This came out of left field for me. You’ve been wonderful to me, but I don’t want to mess up what we have by fucking. I am certainly not dating material. I’m going to drive myself home, and I’ll see you next time you come in,” I say and turn to walk away. I was so proud of how I handled myself and it’s like he didn’t hear a word of it. Typical.

“Baby – okay, fine, Venessa, you don’t believe me –that’s fair. I’ve kept this under wraps for a long time. Let me prove it to you. Just have dinner with me. Come to my home, and let me spoil you. Let me show you who I am when I’m not doing business. Show you how a man, one who deserves you, should treat you. Let me be that man for you,” he begs. When he says this, a giant of a man with soulful eyes, and giant but gentle hands, come to mind, not the man in front of me.

“Please accept my apology when I say that I can’t be that girl for you, and I’m sorry,” I say, trying to slip away. But he doesn’t make it easy.

“Please accept
my
apology, when I say that I will enjoy every second of changing your mind.”

I’m trying to leave nicely, but if he kisses me, I’ll probably stab him. 

“Let me kiss you,” he demands, leaning into me.

“I don’t like to be touched, Tony. Come on, this isn’t news to you,” I say, pulling back.

“Kissing and touching aren’t the same. Allow me to show you the difference,” he tries to persuade me.

“No, Tony. Sorry, but I have to go,” I say, and I’m ready to run.

I didn’t run fast enough, because when I heard, “Not tonight, then, but soon” my knees almost buckled. The thought of intimacy may scare me, but when I think of kissing the detective I don’t feel fear. Fuck, I don’t know what I feel.