Death Blow (12 page)

Barrett dropped her off at the Morans’. When she handed him
the helmet, he yanked her close and kissed her hard.

“Next time, don’t bother wearing clothes,” he growled at
her.

“Next time? Not without a ring and love song, buddy,” she
shoved his shoulder. She wanted to keep it light and funny for now—she’d work
on him later, slowly, carefully. She turned and jaunted up the driveway to the
door. At the welcome mat, she could hear a woman crying and a man yelling.
Right as she thought maybe she should turn around, get Barrett to take her
home, the door opened and the valet stood there. Behind him, Lila saw Lyle in a
rage, pacing in the living room, Tiffany crying on the couch, and Jackson
sitting back defiantly, clutching Tiffany to him and staring his father down
with malice. Lila tried to say something quietly to the valet about coming
back, but Jackson, of course, saw her.

“Oh, hey, Lila, come in,” his tone was angry. Lyle turned
and saw her, and something like interest flashed in his eyes for a moment, then
disappeared immediately. Lila got chills for a moment, though she wasn’t sure
why.

“No, no,” she said quietly, “I’ll come back, sorry for
interrupting.” She tried to privately ask the valet for her car, but Jackson
got up off the couch and walked over to her. Tiffany hid her face, still
crying.

“Nah, sit down, have a listen. My dad’s just here screaming
about how Tiffany needs to support my—can you believe this?—
my
fighting
aspirations if she wants to keep dating me. Isn’t that so great of him, to just
read my mind and act on my behalf?” Lila wasn’t sure what to do. “Thank god
I’ve got a dad who’ll do what’s right for me, even if I and the people who
really care about me don’t want to do it, right? That’s real parenting right
there.” The valet ushered Lila inside by closing the door behind her, forcing
her to step into the foyer.

Lyle walked over from the living room to the foot of the
stairs. “Maybe Lila’ll talk some sense into you two, eh girl?” He looked at
her. Something about the way Lyle was watching Lila tonight made her very
uncomfortable. “She’s a smart girl, got a good head on her shoulders. You
watch. She’ll tell you you can’t give up fighting just because your idiot
girlfriend thinks it’s—
oooh
—dangerous.” He started up the stairs. “Now,
if you’ll excuse me, children,” he said the word with particular vehemence,
“Daddy’s got some work to do.” Tiffany sobbed harder from the couch, and
Jackson left Lila to go to her.

Lila was stunned. After a moment, she too walked over into
the living room, watching Jackson hold Tiffany.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Wanted to fight me extra this weekend, make some money,”
Jackson spat the last clause, “and he just couldn’t wait until Tiffany’d gone
to talk about it, had to talk about it right now.”

Tiffany finally looked up from Jackson’s shoulder, eyes
puffy, mascara running. Lila’s heart ached for her. “It’s all my fault, I’m so
sorry, Jackson.” He shushed her.

“Tiffany, baby, you didn’t do anything,” he said, looking
deeply into her eyes. Lila felt something like a pang of jealousy at watching
this scene—they cared about each other so intensely. She didn’t know if she’d
ever have that with another person. “My dad’s a fucking asshole. All he cares
about is work, work, business, money. That’s all I am to him. You?” He smoothed
her hair out of her face. “You
love
me, Tiffany. Do you know what the
fuck that means to me?” Lila started to get a little choked up. Jackson
noticed. “Sorry, we’re being so gross right now.” Lila wacked his arm, letting
him know it was okay. “Anyway, I’m just so fed up with him, tonight I wouldn’t
back down. I said maybe I wouldn’t fight anymore period, and that really got
him riled up.”

“Where’s your mom?” Lila asked. She thought maybe, if
Cassandra had been around, she’d have been able to control the situation.

“Taking care of something at the club. Whatever, she’d just
have taken his side anyway.”

“What are you two going to do, just stay here?” Lila asked.
It was late, she should get home. Jackson scoffed.

“No fucking way. Actually, would you mind dropping us off at
Tiffany’s place?”

“Of course not. You want to go now?”

“Yeah. Babe, ready to go?” Jackson pulled Tiffany away from
him to look at her. She dried her face off and wiped her fingers under her
eyes, sniffling.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed
Jackson’s face and kissed him, gentle and slow. “I love you, Jackson,” she said
quietly.

“I love you too, Tiff.” He stood up, helping her off the
couch. “Thanks, Lila.” He pulled her into a big, tight hug, which Lila
returned.

“No problem. Do you need to, like, tell him you’re leaving?”

“Fuck him,” Jackson said definitively. “Kurt, go pull Lila’s
car around,” he called to the valet, still standing awkwardly in the shadows by
the door. Kurt grunted and disappeared.

After she dropped Jackson and Tiffany off, Lila went home,
exhausted. She pulled into the driveway, turned off her car, and looked at the
house. The kitchen light was on.

“Oh great,” Lila moaned, throwing her head back against the
seat. The last thing she wanted was to talk to her dad right now. Maybe she’d
get lucky—maybe he’d be passed out and she could just put him to bed. When she
realized she thought that—maybe she’d be
lucky
and her dad would be
passed
out
—she jolted forward. Everything was so fucked up in her life. Even this
new thing—Club Malevolence, her new job, Jackson, Barrett—even that was fucked
up, at its core. Her friendship with Jackson wasn’t. That, at least, she felt
was a good thing. Her life before the Club was fucked up, her life now was
fucked up—was there ever an end to it?

Anxious and depressed now, she got out of the car and
trudged up the driveway. She steeled herself as she started up the back stairs,
but when she got to the back door, she gasped. Sitting at the kitchen table was
her father, yes, but at the other end, across from him, was the Sheriff, having
what looked like a very serious conversation. Lila froze where she stood. She
hadn’t seen the Sheriff’s car. Where had he parked? What had her father done
now? She wanted to run back down the stairs, didn’t want the Sheriff, whom she
held so dear, in her shithole house, talking to her deadbeat dad. She knew the
responsible thing was for her to go inside, deal with it—but Lila felt like she
couldn’t. She soundlessly headed back down the stairs, hoping they couldn’t
hear her, and got back into her car. If she wanted to go—and she did—she had to
go now. She could figure out where once she caught her breath. She started the
car and backed out carefully. Maybe they had heard, had expected her up the
back stairs any second. She didn’t really care.

She got on the road again, racking her brain. She couldn’t
go back to the Morans’ right now. She could call one of the girls from the bar,
but she felt like they weren’t close enough for her to do that yet. There was
one place she wanted to go, one thing she wanted to do right now, but she
wasn’t sure if he would go for it. It was worth a try anyway. She grabbed her
phone and dialed.
Please answer
, she prayed silently.

“What’s up? Are you all right?” He had. He had answered. She
breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t take this the wrong way: can I come over right now?”
She jumped right in. There was no point in beating around the bush—either he’d
let her come over or he wouldn’t.

“What way am I supposed to take that, you psycho?” She could
hear him grinning over the phone.

“You’re supposed to take it this way: if I don’t have you
right now, I’m going to pull my hair out.”

“You can definitely come over, then. 525 Buccaneer Road. See
you soon.” He hung up on her.

She sped in that direction. Thankfully, it wasn’t far. She
drummed the steering wheel with her fingers as she drove, full of nervous
energy. Something was trying to pull itself together before her eyes, but she
didn’t want to look at it. She couldn’t. It was too big, too confusing, and
right now, all she wanted was Barrett, the sweat off his body, the taste of his
saliva, the smell of his hair. She approached the address, and it came into
view: a quaint little one-story house, small but nice, Barrett’s bike parked
outside. She pulled into the driveway and parked. The front door opened, and
Barrett stood, silhouetted from behind by warm, yellow light. She got out of
her car.

“Long time, no see. Should I be worried? Are you stalking me
now?”

“Yep. Don’t leave me alone with any bunnies,” she joked as
she approached the front door.

“Bunnies? What?”

“
Fatal Attraction
? Ever see that movie? Whatever,
it’s about a stalker.” She stood before him now, him leaned against the
doorframe, looking so sexy in a t-shirt and gym shorts.

“I don’t have any bunnies, so we’re safe there.” She
couldn’t take it any longer, she launched towards him and brought his mouth
down to hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her inside, and shut
the door behind her.

Making love to Barrett in a real bed was a totally different
experience. Lila loved his weight on top of her, loved the feel of the muscles
in his back working as he pushed himself in and out. The freedom of space gave
them a lot more opportunities, too, and he’d taken her every way he could: him
on top, her on top, from behind, sideways, any way she could imagine. He was an
expert, pacing himself so that Lila got close to coming so many times but was
always left unsatisfied, begging for him again, pleading for him not to stop.
She’d never been worked over like this.

When, finally, after what seemed like hours, he let Lila
come, she did so with a cry, close to a yelp, the pleasure was so intense, and
just when she’d bottomed out, he withdrew from her and licked his way down her
body, lapping up her juices and bringing her to orgasm again with his tongue.
Lila saw stars like she’d been knocked out. When they cleared, Barrett came
into focused, laying beside her, propped up on an elbow, stroking her stomach
with his fingertips. He was still fully erect, his cock at a right angle to his
body, reaching towards her. She rolled him over and slid herself down his body,
taking him into her mouth. He groaned and put a hand on the back of her head.

“You don’t have to,” he managed to force out. She hummed
around him and he gasped and bucked his hips up. She took her mouth off him and
stroked him with her hand.

“Oh yeah? I don’t have to? You don’t want me to?” she
teased.

He started to respond and she swallowed him again, and his
words caught in his throat. She took him as far as she could, sucking hard,
running a hand up his abs as they clenched and rocked.

“Lila, Lila, fuck,” he grunted. Unable to hold back any
longer, he began thrusting into her, and after a few seconds, he moaned,
shuddered, and came hard. Lila lapped him up, waiting until he’d relaxed
completely, and then pulled away from him and came back up to rest on his
chest. His hand cupped her face, fingers wiping the corners of her mouth before
he drew her up to him for a long, slow kiss.

“I don’t care if you are a stalker, you’re a great lay,” he
smirked.

“You’re not so bad yourself, for a psychopath.” They laid
there for a few minutes in silence. Lila was sure Barrett didn’t want her
sleeping there, she’d have to go home eventually, but she wasn’t quite ready to
move yet.

“What’d you really come over here for?” Barrett asked. The
question startled Lila. It was…so personal.

“You mean, besides the mind-blowing sex?” she deflected.

“Yes, I mean besides that. Or you really are crazy, and
couldn’t go 8 hours without fucking me.” Lila gave a short laugh. She wasn’t
sure how to respond to his question.

“Just didn’t feel like being at home,” she said simply.

“Live by yourself?” he asked.

“No, with my dad,” she responded.

“Yikes, that sucks.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t want, wasn’t ready to reveal what state
her father was in. “Your parents live in Belle Chasse?” she asked, trying to
change the subject.

“No.” Barrett said it coldly, and didn’t offer up anything
else.

“Did you grow up here?” Lila probed. She knew she shouldn’t,
but she didn’t want to think about herself or her own life right now.

“No,” he said again, same tone. Lila pulled away to look up
at him. He didn’t look at her.

“Okay, sorry.” She laid her head back on his chest.

“You grew up here?” he asked, maybe trying to apologize.

“Yes.” She played the game.

“Your parents obviously still live here.”

“My dad does.”

“Mom somewhere else?” he asked.

Well, she couldn’t lie. “She’s dead.” She tried to say it as
simply and as unemotionally as possible. An awkward pause ensued. Lila didn’t
move, and neither did Barrett. She was sure he’d freak out, clam up more. They
sat in silence for a few seconds.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said. Like Jackson, he’d
done a good job of meaning it, of not letting his voice ooze sympathetic. Lila
was surprised.

“It happened a long time ago,” she surprised herself even
more by continuing.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not shitty,” he said quietly, holding her
a little tighter. Lila shrugged in his embrace.

“I’ll live.” She sat up now. If Barrett wasn’t going to open
up to her, she shouldn’t open up to him. That had disaster written all over it.
Barrett shifted as she got up and collected her clothes, watching her.

“Where are you going?” he finally asked as she started
slipping clothes back on.

“Home.” She hooked her bra. Her shirt was in the living
room, and so were her shoes.

“Already?” He almost sounded like he wanted her to stay, at
least a little longer, but Lila pushed the thought from her mind. If he did, it
was probably because he thought they’d have sex again. That seemed like all he
wanted.

“Yeah. Want to let you get your beauty rest,” she quipped,
padding out of the bedroom. She heard Barrett rustle out of bed behind her,
grab something, and follow her out. He’d slipped his underwear back on, and
god, he looked good. Lila focused on finding her shoes, though. One was under
the couch—where was the other one?

“You don’t have to go running out of here right now,” he
said hesitantly. Something in Lila’s stomach cramped at the way he said it,
like he might ask her to stay, and not for the sex. But she held her silence as
she searched for and found her other shoe, and Barrett didn’t offer up any
reason for her not to leave.

“No worries,” she said, tying her shoes and standing up.
“I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.” She headed for the door, turning to see
Barrett when she’d reached the entrance. He looked sheepish and uncomfortable,
standing by the couch, watching her. But still, he did nothing to make her
stay.

“Probably,” he said, looking at her with something like
sadness. “You work this weekend, I assume, right?” She put her hand on the
doorknob.

“Yep. You fighting this weekend?”

“Yep.”

Things had been so hot in the bedroom, but out here, they
were so cold. Lila didn’t know what to think about her and Barrett, what it
was, what he felt. She didn’t want to ask, and honestly, she didn’t want to
feel anything for him right now either. Maybe they were even.

“Okay…” he trailed off, waiting to see what she was going to
do. “Well, I’ll probably see you at the Club, then…” His pauses hung in the
air.

“Yep, see you at the Club.” Lila turned the handle, opened
the door, and breezed out. When she’d made it into her car, tears sprang into
her eyes. “Nope,” she said out loud to herself, “we’re not going to do that.”
Still, they kept coming. “We’re not going to cry, not about anything, not about
Dad, not about Barrett, not about anything right now. We’re not going to do
that.” She wiped her eyes, started her car, and drove home.

When she arrived back in her driveway, the Sheriff was gone
and the kitchen light was off. She breathed a sigh of relief and headed inside.
No sign of her father in the kitchen, and his bedroom door was closed. Lila
went to her bedroom, took off her pants, flopped into bed, and fell fast
asleep.