Текст книги "Beautiful Storm"
Автор книги: Megan Isaacs
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
BEAR AND I ride over to the shop in silence, and when we arrive I’m thankful Spud’s van is outside. As we walk in we’re met by the usual strains of rock music. At least today he’s playing it a few decibels less than ear-shattering.
Spud pops his head out from under a blue Mustang. “Wondered how long it would take you. It’s on your desk.”
“What is?” I try to play innocent, but it doesn’t sit right; I’m far from that.
“No need to play coy with me, mate, I’m a sure thing.” He bats his eyelashes at me, chuckles, and slides back under the car. I head off into my office. But I come to an abrupt stop as soon as I walk in the door. My sight hones in on my desk and Bear slams into my back.
“What the fuck, mate?” he splutters.
“What if she’s in trouble?” I stare at the harmless business card lying on my desk like it’s diseased, afraid to touch it.
“Why would she be in trouble?” Bear asks, whilst pushing me forward to make room for him to enter my office.
“Why would she just disappear without a word if she wasn’t?”
“Stop answering questions with more questions, and keep in mind she’s a woman. You know they’re a law unto themselves.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and into my bones isn’t convinced.
I’m still stuck to the floor, motionless, and eyeing the card. Bear looks at me, huffs, and picks it up. I snatch it out of his hands and glare at it some more. Interior designer. That figures.
Bear groans and rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “For fuck’s sake, Noah, call the woman.”
An hour later we are both in some posh coffee shop in the centre of town. It’s where Layla wanted to meet. I suspect she thought I wouldn’t turn psycho in a public place.
She doesn’t know me very well.
We’re halfway down our coffees when she arrives and joins the coffee queue. She assesses me from the counter before turning her attention on Bear. Her eyes widen a fraction and rake over him. Her whole body tenses, but a hungry look flares in their depths. Her eyes flick back to mine, but lose the heat. The amused smile on my face must ease some tension and her shoulders relax.
She walks up to the barista and orders a mocha-choca-latte, whatever that shit is. After getting her drink she slides herself into the seat opposite us. The girl behind the counter glares at Layla’s back. I’d watched her approving gaze on us earlier. The petty jealousy makes me chuckle.
The sound dies on my lips as Layla pins me with her eyes. They’re tormented, and full of anxiety. I hadn’t seen it yesterday, but here and now, they glare at me like a distress flare in the darkness. Anguish grips my stomach. I swallow deeply, trying to keep down what’s left of its contents.
“Layla, this is ‘Bear,’ or Ted, if you prefer. He can perhaps help.”
I sense Bear shift in his seat.
She turns to him, her head dips a fraction in acknowledgement, and her face flushes. The spark is visible in her eyes again, but she shuts it down just as fast as it appeared. Her attraction to Bear is obvious, but the worry she’s displaying must override it. I take in her emotion with interest but it doesn’t make me feel any better, just a hell of a lot worse.
“Can you fill me in, Layla?” Bear asks. His voice is tight and the uneasiness makes me turn in his direction. It’s not just his voice; his whole body’s tense. Weird.
“I don’t know what Noah has told you, but Lizzie has disappeared. It’s not been long, a few days at most.” The nervous picking of the skin around her nails starts.
She glances at me briefly before continuing, “There… there were reasons she left the first time I can’t go into.” Again her anxious eyes flit to me. “I don’t know whether you heard or not, but Mac overdosed a couple of weeks ago. His maid found him dead.”
I hadn’t heard. I also really don’t fucking care. I’m glad he’s dead. That man had what should’ve been mine. Fucker.
Bear glares at me, expecting me to react to Layla’s comment in some derogatory manner, so I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything. My pulse pounds in my ears as pressure builds in my veins. What has this got to do with anything?
“She was getting ready to come home. Not for the funeral like you’re thinking,” she adds in haste. “She wouldn’t have gone there if you paid her. Lizzie was just coming home.” This time she bites at the skin surrounding her nail beds. The woman is as nervous as a lamb surrounded by wolves.
Layla’s eyes sear into mine. It’s like she wants me to understand something, but at this point I’m barely functioning and have to concentrate to even breathe. The pain, ever-present in my chest, amplifies with every word Layla utters. Lizzie was coming back. I take a gulp of my coffee to hide the shuddery breaths racking my body.
“I don’t understand why I can’t get a hold of them, her or Alex. If she stays away, she tells me. Not to say anything is just so out of character for her.”
“Maybe they have gone on a trip? Have you contacted the police?” Bear asks.
I want to yell at the mention of this Alex fucker again. I flex my fists at my sides to control the urge to smash them into the table.
Layla gives a solemn shake of her head. “They’d just laugh at me. It’s not been long enough, and she’s an adult. It’s not the same as when a child goes missing, is it?”
Bear breathes a visible sigh of relief. If the police don’t know then we’re not interfering with anything they’re doing. On the flip side, they’re not interfering with us either.
“Why did you come to Noah?” Bear’s suspicious. He’s worried she knows about me, and in turn, about him. I see him rub his abdominals where his Underdog tattoo is, and my stomach begs me to scratch the itch of mine.
“Lizzie trusted him.” She stares him straight in the eye, her gaze firm and unwavering. She truly believes what she’s saying.
“Yeah, but she’s been gone for years. Things change.” As usual, Bear’s poking the beast.
Her head drops and she takes a sip of her coffee concoction. “Not a lot changes when you love someone more than your own life.”
If she’s talking about Lizzie she’s got that one wrapped around her arse. She lifts her eyes to mine then to Bear.
“I thought maybe I was barking up the wrong tree as well. I mean, it’s a bit random just turning up on your best friend’s ex’s doorstep and asking for help. But when I saw Noah the backlash I received could only come from a man desperately hurt, and still very much in love. It was obvious how hard it was for him to hear about her. Lizzie’s trust in him has never wavered, not once, and I can see why.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I spit out through clenched teeth. I’m holding onto a very small rope and have the feeling my hands are going to let go any second. Bear scowls at me, willing me to keep it under control. But when it comes to Lizzie I have very little control left.
She lets out an exaggerated sigh and looks me in the eye, not in the least intimidated by my anger. “Do you honestly not see?” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Can’t you put together the little bits I’ve told you? Make them into a whole story, even if missing a few bits of information I can’t give you? Personally I don’t know why she just didn’t tell you. You radiate badass, which on the flip side means you would have protected her. It would have saved a lot of pain on both sides.”
My mind’s going to explode. I’m going to explode. What in the hell is going on? I shove my chair back, making a loud screech on the floor and spilling coffee all over the table. Everyone in the shop turns to look. I don’t give a fuck. I storm out of the coffee house into the fresh air needed to breathe normally again. But I stumble out onto the pavement and curse my fucked-up life. There is no way that what Layla’s implying is true. No fucking way, because if what she’s saying is true, then all the pain was for nothing. And that’s worse than being for something, much worse. Protected her? Of course I would have fucking protected her. I’ve killed for a fucking living.
She didn’t know that though, did she?
My nostrils flare and I struggle to heave in each breath. I feel… helpless. Helpless and fucking angry. Never a good combination. Helplessness makes you careless. Anger makes you volatile, and together they make you weak. When someone finds your weakness you’re fucked. And that’s how I feel right now, right this instant. Right royally fucked, with bells on.
I look around the street and people are staring at me. Let them fucking stare, see if I care. I’m falling apart with nothing to catch the pieces except the cold, hard ground.
Spotting a bench nearby, I stride over to it and sit my arse down. My head collapses into my hands and I stare at the floor, willing it to swallow me up. Spit me out. God, anything that would stop the fucking fragments unravelling, and the war raging in my mind.
“She must be some woman, eh?”
I whip my head up. On my left sits an old man. The wrinkles lining his weathered face tell a multitude of tales of their own. He’s dirty, unkempt, and the stench from him turns my guts. I don’t answer him.
“Yes, I thought so,” he laughs, and then coughs, one of those coughs that sound like a lung’s going to appear at any second.
“Let me tell you, lad, I fell in love once. She may not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but she was definitely mine.” A glint sparks in his milky eyes. “Red hair, like a sunset, and a smile which could keep me warm on the coldest of days.” And a sad smile creeps on his face displaying his rotten teeth.
I’m not sure why I’m listening to him, but there’s just something about his countenance, which has me rooted to the spot. I should just get up and walk away. He clearly has a screw loose.
“There’s nothing like those courting days when everything’s fresh and new, but life gets in the way sometimes, you know?” I nod in automatic response.
“Don’t let it,” he voices, his tone resolute.
“What?” I’m not following him.
“It’s not what, it’s ‘pardon,’” he scolds at me. “Don’t let life get in the way. You only get one chance at life. One chance at real love, or if you’re lucky, maybe two. But from the look on your face, lad, it’ll be the once, and if you let life get in the way, you won’t have a life. Yes, you’ll live, but that’s not a life; that’s an existence. A life is full of love, warmth.” He stands up. “An existence is just that, existing to live from one day to the next, with nothing to warm you in the coldest of days. I should know.” He leaves, hacking his way down the street.
I stare after him, amazed by the old man who wasn’t intimidated by my size, tats, or piercings. His words hit hard because what I’m doing is exactly that, existing. Could he see that? As I stare at the back of the tramp walking further away, I feel calmer, like the conflict inside subsides with each step he takes. Shaking my head at his audacity, I stand up and head off back to the coffee shop.
Walking through the door, I sense the eyes of everyone on me, but ignore them and relax back at the table. Bear eyes me with curiosity, my sudden calm as much as shock to him as it is to me. Layla’s face is flushed, probably in anger at me.
“Where are we up to?” My composed tone doesn’t give away any of my earlier turmoil.
“Have you worked it out yet?” Layla asks.
I rock back in my chair and let my head loll backwards, eyes staring at the ceiling as I run through Layla’s information from earlier again. I sit forward and the chair’s legs give a satisfying thud as they connect with the floor again.
“If I’ve got this straight, you’re telling me Lizzie left because she had no other choice. You’re also saying if she’d have just told me, I probably could have protected her from whatever it was which drove her to push me away.”
“Stating the obvious, but keep going,” she urges.
I think a minute more, running over the information one more time. “You said she was coming home, so whatever it was that made her leave has changed.” She nods at me. “Are you telling me that bastard dying meant she could come home?” I begin to snort like a raging bull again.
“I’m not telling you anything; you’re working it out.” Layla smiles at me.
Glaring at her, I replay the information over and over again in my head. But I’m coming up blank. I’m missing something important, but also know there’s no way she’s going to give it to me. As much as it frustrates me, it’s nice to know Lizzie’s choice in friends is solid. Layla has her back. That much is clear.
Layla stares out the window in silence. As I’m watching her, it’s impossible not to notice her eyes widen, and her hand moves to cover a choked gasp, which struggles from her throat. Before what I assume is relief flashes through them. As I turn, my eyes flash past Bear’s unconcerned but watchful face and towards the window.
I stand up abruptly and my chair flies back and crashes down behind me. Bear jumps from his seat in automatic response to my posture and glances around for something he can’t see.
My response is feral. I bend down and move right into Layla’s face. She must have known.
“You think this is fucking funny.” I spit the words at her. Anger seeps from every inch of my body. She backs away as much as her chair will allow, panic clearly present in her eyes.
Bear grabs hold of my arm to pull me back from her, but I shrug him off.
“Fuck off.” The sound echoes around the now silent coffee shop. I glance around at the customers watching me, and then back out the window.
Lizzie.
“Noah, calm down. What are you doing?” Concern laces through Bear’s anger.
“I’m fucking leaving,” I grind out.
I’ve been played.
I crash out the door and onto the street and straight into a body. My arms wrap around it instinctively. Warm, sun-heated shoulders greet my fingers, setting them on fire. Each breath I take is assaulted with a scent I know all too well. The combination sends tremors through my body.
This can’t be happening.
Blinded by the haze of anger, I’ve barged straight into the cause of it. Her face is down and covered by strands of wavy, caramel hair, yet I know it’s her without even seeing it. She’s as frozen as I am.
I fight my body to let her go as my fingers release her shoulders, and the spell holding us prisoner breaks. Yet the few steps I take to back away from her are still like fighting quicksand. Her head lifts, and the hair falls away from her face.
Fuck me if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s been years since the last time I laid eyes on her, and in that time everything and nothing has changed.
Her eyes widen. I know it’s shock. I know every look that has ever crossed her beautiful fucking face. They’re etched into my memory. Hieroglyphs on stone less permanent. But I don’t understand it. She knew I’d be here.
“How… Um…” She flounders for something to say, but I don’t want to hold a conversation. I need to get far away, but the tip of her tongue grazes her bottom lip and nails me to the spot.
“Noah?” My name on her lips strikes through my heart, and spurs me to move.
Layla rushes past me and engulfs Lizzie in her arms. “Lizzie. Thank God you’re all right. Where have you been?”
Lizzie returns Layla’s embrace, but her gaze never leaves mine as she responds with something I can’t hear. The only sound in my head is white noise mixed with the rush of blood coursing through my ears.
“Mate?” Bear’s voice bursts into the noise in my head. My eye contact with Lizzie breaks as I turn towards him.
A hand grasps at my elbow and the contact sends electric pulses shooting across my skin. My head whips back around and I glare at her. If I don’t get away soon I’m going to do something stupid. Like hold her. Beg her to be mine.
Her bottom lip trembles and her storm-filled eyes glint at me as she pulls her hand away. And because I’m a bastard I finish her off. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you, but we both know that’s not true.”
Her sharp intake of breath crucifies me. Bear’s hand clasps hard on my shoulder. “Time to leave.”
“Mate, I left years ago.”
BASTILLE BLARES ON the radio while I work underneath an old Dodge Charger, which came in this morning. My mind’s taunting me like it has for the past twenty-four hours. Endless movie reels of Lizzie play through my imagination. The feel of her skin beneath my touch, her storm grey eyes, and no matter how loud the music, I can’t block it out.
I reach out from under the car to pick up a socket wrench, and movement catches my eye outside in the car park. I strain my neck to see what it is, but decide it’s a fucking hallucination, or it’s the movie in my head playing tricks on me. I’d assume I was still a little wasted from last night, but it’s three in the afternoon.
She’s got some balls, I’ll give her that.
Lizzie’s caramel hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her beautiful face. As I watch her swaying hips as she walks in, my pulse quickens and blood pounds through my ears, rushing through my shrivelled heart. Every inch of me goes on high alert as I slide out from under the car and get to my feet. I slowly wipe the grease off my trembling hands with an oily rag, and then shove them into my pockets so she can’t see the effect she’s having on me.
She stops just inside the workshop door. The flecks in her stormy eyes sparkle in the sunshine. She just stands there. Her eyes widen a fraction then rake over my bare chest. I took my shirt off earlier, because the summer heat in the workshop is unbearable, and I feel more naked than if I were standing with my cock out. I don’t know why she’s here. She’s not even saying anything.
Our eyes lock for a second or two. I get lost in the depth, lost in memory, before my anger resurfaces.
“What do you want, Lizzie?” My tone’s harsh, and all business. Inside I’m a quivering mass of emotions I don’t want to feel.
Her gaze drops to the floor and her posture shifts. “I shouldn’t have come.”
What did she expect me to do? A happy dance? Throw an instantaneous welcome fucking home party?
“No, you shouldn’t,” I bite out. The hurt I feel overrides any pleasure at seeing her. I turn away from her and walk towards the back office. I need to escape, need to hide. I want to run to her. I want her gone. Bollocks, I don’t even know what I want.
“How have you been, Noah?” she calls out to my back.
Is she for real? I swing back around, fists now clenched at my sides, and stalk up to her.
“How have I been? You wrecked my fucking life.” My voice is low and menacing, even to my own ears.
Lizzie doesn’t retreat. She stands her ground and stares me down with those bloody hypnotic eyes of hers. A million emotions flash through them.
“Noah. I…”
She reaches for me, but I move away. I shouldn’t be doing this now, or here, but poisonous words spew out of me uncontrolled.
“You want to know how I’ve been? You took everything I had. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Two women taking your place couldn’t satisfy me.” Lizzie flinches as my words carve through her. “All I wanted was you.”
The reality is for months I couldn’t even get laid; my cock wouldn’t get hard for anyone but her. My palm and imagination became my best fucking friends. I try to take a moment to calm the fuck down. My eyes throw daggers at her, but my whole body rebels against my brain. It’s burning up with desire and pulsating with the need to touch her.
“How—”
I cut her off. “Piece by piece I’ve built my life back together. It’s been slow, painful, and taken three bastard years. Even after all that time I still couldn’t move on. And God. Believe me. I fucking tried. So tell me. How do you think I’ve been?”
Lizzie’s eyes rage like a storm and the flecks are bright sparks of anger. What right does she have to be angry?
“How can you blame all that on me? You. Left. Me,” she spits at me. Her chest heaves and a flush has risen up her neck. It’s obvious she’s having just as hard a time being in close proximity to me as I am to her.
I shake my head in disbelief. “You pushed me away. Shit, Lizzie, I asked you to move in with me. I loved you so fucking much, I can’t even put it into words, and you threw it in my face. You told me you didn’t love me. What did you expect me to do, stand there and beg? Begging’s not in my nature, love. You chose the wrong man if you wanted that. Oh right, I forgot, you didn’t choose me though, did you?” Bitterness spews out in my words.
She’s pacing in front of me like a lioness protecting her young. She’s restless and looks like she’s going to flee at any second, if she could only see a way out.
Well, I can show you the fucking door.
“I didn’t have a bloody choice!”
It’s my turn to flinch. I have never known Lizzie to raise her voice and she very rarely swears.
“I know I told you I didn’t love you. How else could I make you leave? I once told you I’d never willingly leave you. I kept my word. I made you leave me. But I can tell you right now, it was the last thing on this earth I wanted.”
She’s walked into my space. At this distance her eyes are a wild tempest and I want to drown in the resulting flood.
She turns away before continuing. “You think this has been easy on me? That when you walked away I carried on with my life? If that’s the case you can think again, because the moment you walked out my whole world fell apart.”
“So that’s the line you’re going with? You didn’t have a choice? If you fucking felt something for me, surely we were worth fighting for. But no! You pushed me away.” I can’t hide the pain in my voice.
“Oh, God, Noah. You are so bloody frustrating at times.” She throws her arms up in the air and turns to me. “What did you think I was doing? I was fighting for us the only way I could. The only way I knew we would survive,” she assures me.
Domineering Lizzie is new to me. And fuck, she’s sexy. I want to laugh in her face, but there’s a seriousness about her that’s compelling. She honestly believes in what she’s saying.
“What the hell does that mean? And you think I’m frustrating? I barely survived you, Lizzie. For three years I’ve loved and hated you. I’ve drunk myself into oblivion more times than I care to remember. I let this place nearly go under. I’ve tried to shag you out of my veins, but not another woman on this planet compares to you. And you’re standing there telling me you did it so we would survive? Survive fucking what, Lizzie? Because I’m barely hanging on.”
“Mac!” she screams at me.
I’m stunned. “What’s that cocksucker got to do with us?”
“Everything. Absolutely everything.”
Lizzie has lowered her voice and she’s looking at the floor, hiding from my angry gaze. The fight appears to have left her body, whilst I’ve got a volcano roiling in mine which wants to explode. I have the feeling I need to keep a lid on it if I’m going to get out of Lizzie what’s been going on. Why she pushed me away hard enough for me to leave. And from what little Layla’s said, why I’ve wasted three years of my fucking life away from her.
“Lizzie?” My voice is low and laced with warning, a ‘tell me now’ warning.
She looks up at me with uncertain eyes, fear flashes through them, but I know it’s not from me. She knows I would never harm her.
I take her by the arm and lead her towards the back room, aware anyone could walk in at any time. The touch of her skin on my fingers inflames me in a way I haven’t felt since the very last time I laid my hands on her. She doesn’t pull away, so I press my hand into her back, guide her in, and then slam the door behind us. When I turn to face her my breath catches. I’d forgotten how small she actually is. I tower over her, so I step back, not wanting to intimidate her.
“Well?” I speak softer than before, and cross my arms so I don’t do anything foolish, like pull her into them. She’s like a magnet to me. Then, having second thoughts, I grab a T-shirt from my locker and sling it on, because the first thought of ripping off her clothes and pressing her skin up against mine is far too tempting.
“Do you have any idea how many times I wish I could’ve been wrapped in your arms, or even just heard your voice? There were so many times when I just”—she closes her eyes then reopens them slowly and glances up at me through her lashes—“needed you.”
I swear my heart stops for a few beats. She’s going to be the death of me. Her beautiful grey gaze glistens with unreleased tears, and every agonising emotion known to man runs behind it. She’s always had the most expressive eyes. I mentally kick myself for being sucked back in by them. I can’t speak. My anger has passed and I’m floundering in their depths.
Taking the time to actually look at her, I notice she’s grown more beautiful, if that is even possible. Her hair would still fall around her shoulders if it wasn’t pulled back, but it seems thicker, healthier. She’s put a few pounds on in weight, not much, but enough that it seems to soften her. But the main change is in her face. Her eyes that were always so alive when she was with me look tired and drawn. Fine lines crinkle the edges, but they don’t detract from her beauty, only enhance it.
She still, after all this time, takes my breath away.
“Noah?” She gently places a hand on my chest and that ever-present current between us shocks through me. I jump at the contact and pull away.
“Don’t touch me.” One simple touch enrages me as my whole body floods with need, but my voice is barely a whisper.
I can’t control the feelings that are resurfacing, and I don’t know how to cope with them. If she touches me again I’ll lose complete control and give in to the need stifling me. My fists clench and unclench at my sides. Years of hurt and anger battle with years of desire and love. The big bang is taking place in my body. My heart wants to wrap her in my arms, but my head would like to tell her to fuck right off, and I don’t know which one will win out.
Her hurt gaze roams over my face, looking deeply into my mine. She’s looking for something and I’m not sure if she’ll like what she finds.
“You have two choices, you either tell me right now what that wanker had to do with what happened to us, or you can turn around and leave. The choice is yours.” My mind yells at me to hurt her and push her away like she did to me, but my heart’s screaming at me that if I do I’ll never see her again, never know the truth. From what Layla said, Lizzie’s been through something I don’t yet understand. I know I’m being a bastard. But I’ve got to protect myself. I can’t be destroyed again. I’d never recover.
She looks thoughtful, like she’s considering her choice. Her whole body stiffens. She’s made up her mind and is steeling herself. My heart sinks with the thought of her walking out the door.
“We were only supposed to be one night, Noah. That’s what you offered.” Her voice is soft.
“Lizzie, don’t fuck with me.” I know full well what we were meant to be, but I needed more. Much more.
She sighs and runs a hand through her hair in irritation. In spite of myself, I smile a fraction. It’s like looking into a mirror.
“I hid a lot from you when we got together.” She throws a nervous glance at me. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s not something easy to talk about either. Um… the further we moved on from that first night”—her face flushes—“the harder it was to bring it up.”
My temper begins to simmer again, and I feel like I’m riding a knife-edge. But then I remember I haven’t been entirely open with my past. A past she still doesn’t know about, either, and more than likely for the same reasons. I bury the fire deep in me as she continues.
“I’m not really sure how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out, okay?”
I put my hands in my pockets as a defence mechanism and nod apprehensively at her, still unsure why I’m listening to her.
“Um, the first night we spent together I told you I wanted to escape. What I… um…” She fidgets for a beat as she struggles for the words. Her forehead creases, and she takes a deep breath. “Mac used to hit me.”
Motherfucker.
The air sucks out of my lungs and I struggle to breathe. How could I not have known? How did I not notice, see the signs? The lifeless grey eyes flash in my memory from when I first met her. The blue welts around her wrists that final day. She reassured me over and over I hadn’t caused them. The urge to roar like a fucking lion overtakes me. How could I have been so stupid? I’ve been creating my own personal hell, but she was living one.
My arms reach for her, but I’m unsure if she wants my touch. Lizzie picks up the movement but doesn’t step towards me. Uncertain what to do, I move them back to my sides. If I’d known, I would have been gentler, more caring, more… shit, anything.
If I’d known, I would’ve killed the fucker.
