BUFF (12 page)

For the first time, Becky no longer wants to hide from the world.

*     *     *

SOMETHING IS OFF.

Her head shoots up. She whips the covers from her body, rubbing her eyes as they dart around the room. The adjustment of the severe light makes her squint and she glances at the nightstand next to her bed. 08:13 AM. The blinds clatter and a small breeze flutters through her room. She darts another look at the window. The more she looks at it the more deep her brow curls under her hair. Her bare feet touch the rug, her steps mute as she ambles over to the window.

Then it hits her.

I never opened the window last night... I closed it because it was quite chilly.

Colt… The kiss last night... Did he do it because... Oh no!

Without thinking she bolts to the attic taking two steps at a time. Her heart beats so loud and hard against the wall of her chest she won’t be surprised if it shatters through her ribs. Her palm is sweaty and shaky as they meet the cold metal knob. This time she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait to figure out what to say or do, what to expect.

The door opens slightly. She pushes it back farther, waiting. Emptiness, cold and harsh, enters her lungs. Her eyes scan the room, once, twice. She steps in, her eyes continuing to roam around, confident she’s missing something. A note, a message of some kind.

He wouldn’t just leave without...

He’s gone; he’s never coming back.

You never gave me a chance to say goodbye.

The kiss last night… it was his way of saying goodbye.

Something glints by the small window near the futon. The Sun's light rains down through the small opening. Her feet brush against the wooden floor as she pushes herself forward, misery hitting her from all sides when she realises what it is.

His silver cross.

The tears fall—harder—laughing at her as they drop against her cheeks.

Damn him.

He isn’t going to get to her. He has no right to come barreling into her life turning everything she knows, everything she thinks she wants, upside down, only to leave just when she thinks she’s figuring herself out. Just when she thinks she’ll find... a friend.

Her fingers grip the small ledge, her chest leaning into the wood. Her thumb scrapes the side of the ledge and finds the stained area that glares back at her. The spot appears to be about as big as her thumb, followed by tiny drips that trail down the wall. They are a rusty black now.

His blood, his cross… her last remembrance of him.

Becky's eyes travel the small trail.

So he is real after all.

She fingers the stained wood, not quite sure of anything anymore.

*     *     *

HE PEERS AROUND
the corner and spots the piece-of-shit coming his way.

As soon as he catches a blur of black pass by he sneaks up with lightning speed. Grabbing the man's coat he pulls him into the alleyway, shoving him against the wall. His target’s cheek smacks the open wall along with the rest of his body in a hard
thud
. He bounces right off the wall from the force of the impact and falls flat on his ass.

Colt gives him little time to think or react because the next second he lifts his collar and shoves him right back into the wall. The pathetic weed panics and dares to swing his arm at him. But Colt is too quick and blocks the punch, countering it with one of is own, right in the gut so that his victim curls over. He’s gasping for air, his arm banding around his midsection.

His face is red with pain and fear as he gulps to say, “L-Listen, man, whatever you want… you can have my wallet, okay—take it."

Colt grumbles over him right before he drags his hunched form back up and presses him into the hard surface. He uses the idiot’s collar to jerk him forward and beat his head back.

He hisses through his teeth, “You know Becky Appleton." It isn’t a question.

Emmett whimpers low, “I-I don't know… Look, man…she… whatever she told you she’s a lying bitch—"

Colt punches him in the gut. “I dare you to call her that again.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. Colt isn’t sure if it’s emotional or physical. He hopes it’s the latter.

“P-Please, don’t hurt me.”

“You come near her again—it won’t end well for you. You get me?” The gruff voice threatens.

“I—I… I don't know what—”

Colt grabs the top of his hair and slams his head back into the wall. “Understand?"

It knocks the wind out of him. “Yeah…” he gasps, “Yeah… I understand… I understand completely."

“Good.”

The asshole beneath him lets out a brutal cough. His eyes adjust for a second on Colt; the glow of anger in his stare along with the ruthless edges and shadows of his face scream murder at his target.

The little shit quickly returns his foggy gaze to the floor, breathing in gulps of fresh air as though more pain is taking over. His eyes shut tight, his hands resting on his knees.

When he dares to look up Colt is looming over him. “I said… I promise man…” There are more tears welling in his eyes. “Please I—”

Colt's reflexes are too fast. His arm whips out, the heel of his hand smashing against the bridge of the little fucker’s nose. His head cracks back and his body follows after as he plummets fast onto the hard floor.

Blood spurts out from his victim’s nose, coating his lips. “Fuck!” He jerks when he touches the swollen area.

Colt doesn’t budge as he watches the idiot squirm on the floor. A cold pleasure dances across his eyes as he says, “In case you forgot."

And then, like a ghost, just as he appeared, Colt is gone.

Payback is a bitch.

But it’s way too much fun to dish out.

*     *     *

“SCALISE.”

“It's me." Colt can hear the sigh through the static of the shitty reception.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it's about fucking time.”

“Yeah, I know, I'm parked for the day, riding back tomorrow,” Colt replies.

“No later. We need to run on this thing."

“Yeah, we gotta talk."

“We will—just get back."

“Tomorrow morning,” Colt says, his voice hushes as a million thoughts take over. "Should be in by seven. Gonna ride all night."

“Ten. You know I hate mornings."

“Yeah…” he replies, already distracted. “Tomorrow,” he repeats, snapping the phone shut against his cheek.

He raises his hand to the base of his neck, and then sighs when he realizes it’s not there anymore. His silver cross. It’s the only reminder he has of… her. He must have fucking lost it somewhere…

He is so lost in the pieces that he has to put back together. The mess that the last few days have created… he isn’t sure where he’s suppose to begin. He’s starting to feel like his old self again though. His side hurts like a bitch and he’s weaker than he’ll ever admit, but he can do his job and that is all that matters.

Colt glances at the small damp bed knowing he can’t put off sleep for too much longer. If he sleeps till sundown and rides all night he should be good. His fingers graze the top of his left side, taking in the bump under his plain white shirt.

Becky...

The young girl from his past… She nursed him back from the brink of death, fed him, put up with his shit, and he had the nerve to say that she’s the coward.

He was fucking wrong. He never should have said any of those things. She’s probably the most courageous person he’s ever known. He doesn’t know one single person who would go to the extent she did to save a stranger.

Even after everything she’d been through...

And what does he do? Insult her, call her names, berate her. She’s probably happy to find him gone. It definitely makes her life less complicated.

At least for a little while…

Yeah, he decides, he did the right thing. The intensity is messing with his head, closing in on him. Colt finally feels like he can breathe. The air around him isn’t so suffocating. He doesn’t feel boxed in anymore.

The motel room might have been dingy and cheap, but it’s clean enough for him. And it’s got him far away from her. The farther the better.

Thump thump.

His chair, which is leaning back on its hind legs, ceases from moving.

Who the fuck?

He waits for a second knock and when it comes he lets the chair fall in a silent
thud
while he retrieves his gun from under his shirt.

No-one knows where he is. Not even Kulich.

He cocks the gun in place and holds it at his side before he moves over to the small window near the door. With one finger he pushes the stained white translucent curtain slightly away and peeks out.

His back tenses and his fingers squeeze around the stem of the gun. He growls, “Son-of-a-bitch,” and lets the curtain hang back.

What the fuck do they think they’re doing?

He freezes for a moment, then a third knock comes and it sprints him into action making him dig the gun back in place. Rage grows inside him, rocketing to the forefront of his mind. He throws the door open making the unwanted guest in front of him yelp.

“What the hell’re you doing here?” Although his voice can’t mask his outrage he tries hard to control his volume.

It's the last person he’d ever suspect.

“I-I…” SHE LICKS HER LIPS
. He watches the movement. It seems to further his fury. “I came to see you."

“Why the hell would you wanna do that?”

“Because I-I,” she stumbles, her cheeks prickling with heat. “I have something to say to you—”

“
Shit.
You shouldn't be here—"

“But I am,” she cuts through. “I have something to tell you and you're going to listen to me whether you like it not."

"How'd you know where to find me?" he bites out.

Luck, Becky's always believed, is a fickle thing. A streak of luck has never come down from the heavens and touched her with some of its magic.

Until now.

But from the way Colt swung open the door and smacked her with the darkest eyes she's ever laid her eyes on, she’s beginning to believe maybe it’s luck asking karma to pay her back for all the times she cursed luck.

Either way, she’s here standing in front of him with a million words in her heart, none of them transferring to her brain. She keeps breathing, in and out. Her chest feels scratchy under the soft material of her top.

"Uh, well, this is a small town and I figured if you were still here you can only be in a few places. I tried the local motel first but no luck obviously”—she can’t stop herself from rambling—“and this is the only place to go to rest that's right on the outskirts of town because after that it’s all highway until you hit the city... so..."

Standing opposite him in the doorway she somehow doesn’t feel in place with him. He’s so undeniably beautiful and every time he steals her breath. Hair casually tousled, flexes of gold shining back at her from the Sun, his eyes starbursts of electric blue, his clothes relaxed, wrinkled but gorgeously accenting his chest, stomach, all the tight, hard places she doesn’t want to notice but can’t stop her body from responding to.

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea... But it’s too late to turn back... This is my only chance.

He growls low, bringing her back to focus. "Um, I just asked the clerk if anyone matching your description—you know you don't get too many tall and… men of your big, uh, build… in these parts that often, so..."

Please stop mumbling.

But the nerves eat away at her and she just can’t stop herself. "Yes, so, I asked if someone like you rented a room. Forty bucks later and I got a room number... easy as pie really..."

She sneaks a small peek at him watching his chest rise higher with each passing second.

"Why’re you here?" he asks through clenched teeth.

She isn’t sure where exactly to start. The truth is tangled in a web of emotions. Colt is blunt and to the point. She should just blurt it out, save herself more humiliation.

“Colt, I—”

The words stop in her throat when his arm snakes out and yanks her from the shoulder and into the dark room behind him. The door slams making the lamp on the nearby desk rattle.

He lets go once they’re inside the room, but he doesn’t lengthen the distance between them. In fact from Becky's vantage point he’s towering over her like some dark overlord about to smite down a harsh ruling. The light from the room is dim at best, casting shadows on his face that make him appear harder and meaner than she remembers.

Staggering mentally under his stare she opens her mouth and hopes instinct will take over. "I, um—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” He stomps closer.

She steps back, bumping the hard edge of the bed corner. “I wasn’t… I mean—”

“Yeah, damn straight you weren't. You shouldn't be here—leave.” He stabs a finger at the door, his eyes blazing into hers. “Now.”

“No."

“That wasn’t a request. Get back to town before your parents find out where you are.” When she remains in place her eyes hold his and then he erases the foot between them with one large stride. “You're leaving whether it's your choice or not—it’s up to you."

His hand comes up but she’s quicker, darting away from his grasp and moves around him. “Oh, no, not before I say what I need to say."

“Becky—”

“Just hear me out, I need to say this. I… please."

When he turns Becky knows he’s expecting her to be that vulnerable girl he first met, but, standing opposite him now, her stance is rigid and determined, her eyes two hard jewels like a wooden doll. She is anything but the Becky Appleton he’s become familiar with.

She can see his anger simmering under a fine line of paper-thin control.  “Don’t do this,” he says through gritted teeth. “I'm a dangerous man… you get that?"

“This has nothing to do with who you are, Colt."

“It has everything to do with it! Leave, Becky, leave before you regret it.” His words almost sound like a warning, something wise that she should heed before he does something he doesn’t want to. But she can’t. She won’t. Not when she has come this far.

“Maybe you can ignore what's going on but I can’t, I won’t. I…” She fumbles, licking her dry lips. Her thumb traces the inside of her palm as she searches his eyes for a sign. Any sign of connection. “…I care about you," she says, whisper soft. When he stands as still as a statue, with no flicker of feeling for her confession, she forces herself to continue, “I know what happened between us… What you went through was traumatic but things like this don't happen every day. I'm not sure… I mean, I'm not dealing with it right I know but I can't ignore it Colt… For the first time I don't want to."

“You got no idea what you’re saying,” he replies, shaking his head. "You're a kid. I helped you years ago, Becky, that's all this is. You see me as some kind of a hero—well I'm not!” His voice seems to roar, shaking the very ground beneath her. “Not anymore... There’s no good in me and you need to stay the hell away from me!"

She pretends she doesn’t hear him yelling at her, gulping down the anxiety that vibrates inside her. “I'm not a child, I know I'm… damaged... but I know how I feel, I know what's going on inside me isn't some stupid adolescent crush. You’re the first guy I’ve liked…”

“You wouldn’t like me if you knew the things I've done.” His voice is gruff and his words are short on patience.

“But that’s it, Colt. I have seen the things you’ve done. When you saved me from being raped you didn’t just save me from that sick bastard. Colt, you saved me from myself.” She can’t help but smile, remembering what he did for her. “I’ve seen worse men to know you’re not bad inside and don't tell me I'm just feeling this because of the situation,” she says, sighing. "Colt. don’t you get it? Maybe you weren't looking for it—God knows I wasn’t—but you found something in me I thought died long ago. You got me when no-one has ever even tried and I realize I don’t have to pretend with you. I don’t want to—”

“Stop.”

“—When I went into my shell I’ve done nothing but pretend to be something I’m not to everyone around me, being in control of everything. But then you came along and—”she inhales sharply“—I can’t fake my way through you.”

"Becky—"

"You see me, Colt." She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes misty as she strips herself completely bare. "You make me feel alive.” Her flush burns like the Sun is scorching six inches above her. “I like you and I won’t apologize for it.”

Stark silence follows; their breathing the only audible passage flowing between them. Becky fiddles with the round button of her jeans. Her fingers betraying her with a slight shake in every move. She peers at him through her lashes. All her strength leaves her body.

God, why isn’t he saying something? Doing anything?

As though he can read her mind he makes his move. Taking a step closer to her, she backs away. He doesn’t gobble up the distance like she thinks he will. But he doesn’t retreat either.

She bites her bottom lip; his rejection is going to cut her deep. Colt, staring at her, licks his lips, his deep voice oddly soothing as he quietly steps closer, placing himself right in front of her, and says, “Don't ever think I’ll forget what you did for me."

How could she ever think a man like Colt would see something more in a plain girl like her? What had she expected? For him to declare his undying love for her? Maybe she is a child compared to him… She said her peace. She should leave before she falls apart.

“It doesn't matter,” she mumbles, moving to the side, but he catches her arm before she can place an inch of distance from him.

“It matters.” His words are hard as though set in stone. She raises her eyes to meet his, unwillingly captured by the overwhelming gaze he’s giving her. “It matters more than you'll ever know."

“But not enough—”

“You saved my life!” She feels his words deep in her bones. “If it wasn’t for you I'd be dead. Don't you understand? That's not something I’ll forget—I don't want to."

Her head shakes, her loose curls rippling. “Colt, I don't understand."

He nods, his chest heaving in hard restraint. “Maybe I don't either,” he answers, softly. “All I know is I'm alive because of you, Becky.” His hand comes up fisting in the air and comes back down, the veins in his wrist protruding. “You mean something.” Her heart flutters and she feels so close until he says, “But it can’t be what you want. That can't happen. You saved my life I owe you, but it ends here."

”I didn’t come here thinking we’ll get married and be together. I know there’s no future for us.” Becky hadn’t come here to runaway with him into the proverbial sunset. Her family are in trouble. She’s moving away—God knows where—and Colt… Colt is from a dangerous world. She sighs, knowing it can never be. “I had to at least tell you how I feel and to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me."

It’s her turn to come closer, a compulsion firing up inside her as she sees the control in him break and snap only to fall back in place. He shakes his head, licking his lips and taking a breath in one movement.

“Don't do this,” he cautions.

“Do what?

“You want answers to questions I can’t answer.” His face turns red as frustration soaks up every word he spits out. “I don't want you and I never will—there, is that what you wanted to hear? You done hurting yourself?”

His face is next to hers. She shoves him. The surprise of the movement jerks him off balance but he easily finds control.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good.” His hoarse voice shakes.

“You think I wanted you to get inside me? To mess with my head?” She goes to shove him again, but his hands come up to block her, holding her tiny wrists between his solid fingers.

“I left without saying goodbye for a reason, so leave,” he mutters. Before her head drops down she notes his face is tight with pain. Her sobs grow, her body shakes.

Her center is breaking into pieces.

When her wrists go limp under his hold he slowly lets go. His hands stay still in the air, waiting.

‘You’re a kid…’

She needs to pretend. She needs to cover the pain rotting inside her.

Clearing her throat she presses her hands over the ridges of her body. Her composure gathers together so rapidly Colt almost looks surprised at the sudden change in her.

Her shoulders square under her baby-blue cashmere scoop sweater. Her hip-hugger jeans straighten along with her stance. With a hurried wipe the evidence of her tears are gone. Her cheeks, drained of color, are taut along with the rigid set of her jaw and her eyes—her eyes are black like two lumps of coal.

“I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.” Her face twists threatening to crumble. “You’ll never see me again. Goodbye, Colt.” She walks over to the door, her hand a turn away from losing him.

“Becky, wait.” His fingers close over her elbow, pulling her back into the room. The door stays opened, the light from the Sun glaring over them even with the shadow of the room on top of them. Her chest collides with his and her forehead bumps his chest just as a sob escapes her closed mouth. “Becky…” his torn voice whispers between them, "I might want more than you're willing to give."

"How do you know? Maybe I want more than you can give, Colt." Her tummy does a backflip.

"Not likely." His hand disappears into her sea of hair, drawing her head closer to his.

He kisses her forehead. The crystal blue vanishes, blackening when her tongue sweeps across the lower half of her mouth. He runs his thumb over her lower lip and softly kisses it. She can already taste his fire that’s burning inside of him.

"I know what I'm getting into," she whispers.

"I'm bound to lose control with you." His voice is so thick with desire, it brings on the sensation of hair rising on her arms and nape.

"Then lose control."

His mouth descends on her lips followed by a raw deafening silence that only breaks when she hears her own gasp flooding her ears. He collides against her; their bodies and mouths fusing together all at once. The moist heat of his mouth is the first sensation she feels; the intense contact dosing her thoughts and liquefying her in her place as he presses his parted lips harder into hers.

His mouth hovers over hers for a second only to wedge her plump lower lip between his. Her shaky moan vanishes in between them as he kisses her again, toying with her mouth, thoroughly touching every unattended inch of it. Her eyes close as the heat of his want travels through her, catching on the nerve-endings inside her and making her bloodstream cry out.