Grasping For Freedom (11 page)

His fingers flinched. "Probably longer than you've been alive."

She laughed, leaning over and nudging him with her shoulder. "Okay, let's get our age difference out in the open.

"You're twenty four, and I'm old." He leaned his head back on the couch, amusement in his voice.

"How did you find that out? I mean, how old I am."

He pulled her down, so she was laying with her head in his lap, staring up at him. She lay motionless, letting him smooth the hair away from her face. He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger, stopping to finger the diamond in her brow. She enjoyed the responsiveness from him more than she wanted to admit.

"Rain," he said. "He's talked."

She played with the edge of his vest. "I'm at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you."

"Not much to know." He traced her bottom lip with his finger. "Except this is the first time I've had a woman's head on my lap when her mouth hasn't been on my body, and instead she wants to talk."

She smiled. Secretly, she was like every other woman who wanted to stand out in a man's life and his observation made her happy.

"You thought I was a bitch when you first saw me," she reminded him.

"Always knew you weren't." He sighed and dropped his hand to his side. "I won't fuck you over and have you thinking there's going to be dinner and talking every night."

"Fine." She stayed on his lap. "Now you've got that off your chest and out in the open, you can relax. I have no plans to domesticate the biker."

"Sunshine, I don't—"

"I hear you. I do." She comically rolled her eyes and lifted her chin—which wasn't easy to do lying on her back on his lap. "Get this,
babe
. Tonight was great. The other night was great too, but I think tonight was even better than that night. Just being honest and maybe sex does improve with time and experience, I don't know...seeing as how I'm twenty-four years old and you're just plain old. Besides, you have some quirks that are making me freeze my ass off, like leaving the door open. I can handle that, especially when you say things like I'm the first woman who has put her head on your lap and talked to you. I like that a lot, just so you know,
babe
. If you ever do decide to come visit again, I'll probably not tell you to go to hell because for some reason, in my short, short life, I've never had a man focus all his attention on me before and I think it's all kinds of wonderful. That doesn't mean I'll let you use me or I'll try to ride on the back of your bike."

Torque stared down at her, his upper chest quaking, his warm eyes softened that the skin at the corners crinkled. All kinds of happiness filled her, and she grinned. This was the hint of the man she knew was inside of him and needed to come out more often. He could protest and claim he was a badass—and she believed him—but he was made to enjoy life too and somewhere or somehow, he'd forgotten how.

A half chuckle escaped before Torque clamped his lips together and smiled. "You've been hanging around the bikers too much. You're starting to sound like one of us with a talent for bull shitting."

"You think so?" She pushed into a sitting position, getting off his lap. "Honestly, it takes too much energy to shorten my sentences and grunt to keep my biker speech up longer than a minute."

He leaned toward her, hooked her neck, and brought her forward. He kissed her hard and deep, and then let her go. "I liked what you said. Though next time, maybe drop the
babe
."

"Oh, okay," she whispered, kissing him quick and escaping his hands. "You better get going, so you can get some sleep before you have to work in the morning."

"Yeah." He stood.

She walked him to the opened door. "It's been real, babe."

"Smartass," he said, before kissing her again. "See you—"

Her cell phone in the other room rang. She pushed away from him, backing up. "Sorry. I need to get this."

Not waiting for him to say goodbye, she turned and jogged to the bedroom. She dove on the bed, stretching to reach her phone on the nightstand and swyped the button. "Hello?"

"Close, baby. One more ring, and you'd be very disappointed," Radiant said.

She turned her head and looked into the hallway. Torque hadn't followed her. "Is he there?"

"First, give me the information."

God. She had nothing significant. "Bantorus had a meeting earlier and I tried to stick around to learn what was said, but Rain left immediately for—she pressed her hand against her forehead, trying to remember where Torque mentioned Rain had gone—uh, he went..."

"Brandy," Radiant said. "Think hard."

She stood and paced. "I am. I am. He went—I remember. He went to the motor vehicle department."

"Why?"

"I don't...he said Rain had to go there before the run they're making. I told you about the run," she said, her heart racing. "Can I please talk with my dad?"

"Who's he?" Radiant ignored her question.

"Who's he what?" she asked.

"Who told you Rain was going to the motor vehicle department?"

She exhaled. "Torque."

"Excellent." Radiant's voice became clearer. "Now, before I let you talk to your pop, remember, I'll be contacting you again. Keep your phone close."

"I will." She nodded, hugging her middle with one arm as silence came over the phone.

She strained to hear anything that'd let her know her dad was going to come on the line and willing Radiant not to hang up on her. The back of her neck prickled, and she paced to make the seconds shorter.

Finally, a familiar male voice bellowed, "Brandy?"

Her legs wobbled and she sank to the floor, the phone pressed to her ear. "Oh my God, Dad. Are you okay?"

"Where the hell are you?" her dad, David Haas, asked.

She rocked on her knees. "Pitnam, Washington. Where are you?"

"California, where the hell else would I be, honey?"

"Oh, God. Will you please leave Los Li and go back home?" she asked, fearing the worst.

"I can't. I need to make some money." Her dad lowered his voice. "I have a lot riding on this. Need to do right by you and work out a few things."

She stifled her anguish. He never listened. Half the time, she wondered if one of the past hits to his head hadn't given him brain damage. She couldn't understand his thirst to get into the predicaments he seemed to get into more frequently lately. However, the fact that he could discuss what he was doing was a good sign he'd listen to her. There'd been times when he'd shut her out completely and gotten himself in too deep.

"Dad, I need you to step back. This is important. Promise me you'll forget about everything, and not let anyone egg you into fighting," she said, knowing others were responsible for enabling his desires.

"Brandy, I need space," her dad said.

She pushed to her feet. "Can you describe where you are? Is it a room, a house, a hotel?"

"Hell, I don't know," he said.

Frustrated, she needed more information. "Be strong, Dad. Keep telling yourself that I love you. Brandy loves you. Keep saying it, and don't forget and go back home. I need you."

"I need—"

The phone disconnected. She screamed, "Dad."

She tossed the phone to the bed, and picked up the closet thing in reach, the lamp. She hurled it across the room, gasping on a sob. The base shattered, bringing her no relief. Her muscles spasmed, ached, clenched, screamed her uselessness to fix the situation. Her dad only had her to keep him safe. She couldn't fail again.

A
scream, followed by a low thud came from the cabin. Torque whirled around, jumped onto the porch, and opened Brandy's unlocked door. She was nowhere in sight.

"Brandy?" he called, walking straight to her room.

On her knees beside the bed, Brandy picked up pieces of broken glass. He strode across the room, picked her up, and sat her on the bed. "Do. Not. Move."

He walked out into the other room, grabbed the cardboard box he'd used to bring dinner to the cabin and found a broom leaning against the corner by the refrigerator. He returned to the room with both objects, looked at Brandy, dropped everything onto the floor, and kneeled down in front of her. Gone was the smile she wore earlier.

She stared at the floor, digging her nails into her palms. He pried her fingers away and held both of her hands to keep her from hurting herself.

"Hey...talk to me," he whispered.

She remained quiet, too quiet, and had no expression on her face. He glanced down to make sure she had shoes on, and then examined her hands, looking for any cuts. There were no marks or blood on her.

"Brandy?" He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. "Did you fall and break the lamp?"

She brought her eyes over to him and shook her head. He breathed easier. She was unhurt physically.

He tilted his head to keep eye contact with her. "It's only a lamp, sunshine."

"Yeah." She pulled her hands away.

He moved back to give her space, and she used the extra room to stand. He straightened, studying the room. The lamp would've been on the nightstand, and it broke on the other side of the room. It didn't get up and walk over there.

"Did you throw the lamp?" He stepped in front of her and brushed the wild hair off her cheek.

"I'll pay Rain back." She swallowed hard enough her throat muscles spasmed. "O-or I can replace it with another one."

"I'm not worried about the lamp." He held her face between his hands. "What's got you upset?"

"Nothing," she said.

He kissed her forehead. "Don't bullshit me, sunshine."

She refused to say any more. Heaviness settled over him and he let his chin fall to his chest.
Fuck.

He'd thought having dinner with her after having sex would make things right. She deserved better than a 'Thanks for the lay' and him hightailing it out the door the way he normally did. She wasn't a bitch, and he'd treated her like one again.

"Do you understand what happened between us?" He brought her head up to look at her. "Do you?"

She frowned. "We had sex."

"Yeah, sunshine, we had sex." He brought her against his chest, holding her tightly, and said, "I told you from the start, I'm an asshole."

"Assholes don't apologize," she said without moving away from him.

He stroked her back, glad to hear her attitude returning. More than willing to let her believe there was something good inside of him to like and soften the effects of what he'd done to her, he said, "Sorry, sunshine."

Several seconds ticked by, and her hands came up and held on to his belt. His chest tightened. The power of one of her hugs was capable of sending him to his knees.

No one that he could remember ever hugged him, just for comfort. They always wanted something. Brandy wanted nothing. She expected nothing. She asked for nothing in return.

Because she never forced him to give her anything, he hugged her back because he wanted to.

"It wasn't you," she mumbled against his vest.

He absorbed that bit of information. If he hadn't angered her, and she wasn't upset about having sex—claimed she loved the sex—then what or who bothered her enough, she threw a lamp across the room?

He replayed everything they'd talked about, surprised to find most of the conversation centered on him, and he knew little about her. Everything was fine up until he'd closed the door. He leaned back without letting her go.

"Was it the phone call?" he asked.

"Huh?" She rubbed her cheek against him.

"Did the call you received when I was leaving upset you?" he asked.

She backed away. Her hand went to her throat. He stepped toward her again, and she shook her head. Someone had upset her, and he wanted to know who that person was.

"What the fuck, sunshine?"

"Please." She inhaled loudly. "Just go."

"The hell I will. Tell me why you were happy when I left and not thirty seconds out the door, I hear you scream and find you shaking and upset." He hooked her neck with his hand, pulling her closer and not letting her retreat.

She pushed against him, but he refused to give her space. Her whole body quivered against him, pissing him off more. "Who did this?"

"You wanted me to believe you're an asshole, well you're being an asshole now."

He let her go, opened her dresser, and pulled out at stack of clothes. Then he walked into the bathroom, found her toothbrush, her makeup bag, and her hairbrush. He returned to the bedroom and tossed everything on the bed.

"What are you doing?" she said, grabbing her phone and shoving it in her pocket before he could grab it.

He found her suitcase against the wall and threw it on the bed. "Pack."

"W-why?" she asked.

He paused a beat and started throwing her things inside the luggage bag when she refused to move. "Because I'm not leaving you here when you're acting upset, and I can't stay in your cabin to make sure you get your happy back."

"My happy..." She grabbed for her clothes, but he yanked her shirt out of her hands. "I work here, Torque. You can't do this."

"I'll make sure you get to work tomorrow night." He shoved the last of her things in and zipped the bag. "Come on."

"Dammit. I'm not going with you." She held out her hand. "I'm pissed off, not upset. Now give me my stuff back."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the cabin. At the door, he stopped. "Do you have your keys?"

She pressed her lips together and stared at him. He waited her out. Her chin lifted and she gave him the attitude he had no problems giving back. He pulled her out of the cabin, closed the door on a slam, and refused to back down. Stubbornness and thunder he could handle. Softness and tears left him useless.

At the backdoor of the bar, she threw herself against the door, stopping him from opening it. He growled his frustration. "You're not making this easier on yourself."

"Please, Torque. Let me have my bag and go back to the cabin. I'm fine." She held out her arms, raising his arm in the process, because he wasn't letting her go. "See?"

He grabbed the handle, kept the door open with the toe of his boot, picked up the suitcase, and hooked her waist with his other arm, carrying her inside the bar. In Rain's office, he set her down and closed the door, blocking her way.