Savior (An Impossible Novel) (19 page)

“You
’re a cocky bitch, you know?”  But it wasn’t a real insult.  Penny was laughing.  “And no prizes, just bragging rights.  And the free drink, obviously.”

“Deal,” I grinned.  This was going to be fun.  I liked a good competition.  Just like Clayton, I enjoyed winning.

Only when I’m with him, losing is pretty amazing.

Stop it! 
I reprimanded myself.  I refused to spend any more time pining over Clayton.  He was out of my life for good.  I had made sure of that.

Mentally shaking myself, I turned my attention on my task.  No way was I going to let Penny beat me.  My eyes roved over the various
man-candy in the bar, and my interest was instantly sparked when an impressively ripped guy raised his glass at me when he noticed me looking at him.  He was totally my type: his bulging muscles were obvious under his tattered, low-slung jeans and tight black t-shirt.  Intricately colored tattoos twined their way up his corded arms, and his features were angular and slightly mean.  He was every inch the bad-boy type I usually went for.  He was powerful enough to hold me down and fuck me hard, and he looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t give a shit if I left in the morning and never saw him again.

But I found myself frowning at him as the thought made me profoundly sad.  He frowned right back and then shrugged, his gaze roving elsewhere.  Yep.  He was definitely a callous bastard.

I noticed Penny had already moved in on a target, and I hastily continued my search.  My eyes were drawn to a guy who couldn’t have looked more different than the tattooed asshole.  He was wearing a well-fitted suit, and his demeanor gave off the impression that he was a man who was used to success.  His blond hair was a few shades lighter than Clayton’s, but he had blue eyes.

A part of me recognized that I was totally fucked up; it was a terrible idea to sleep with a man who reminded me of Clayton.  But a yearning ro
se up within me, and I knew this guy was my best shot at finding some modicum of pleasure in a man’s arms tonight.  His eyes met mine, and I gave him a slow, sly smile before taking a sip of my drink.  As I did so, I allowed myself to think of sexual pleasures so he could see the lust in my eyes.

Unfortunately, images of Clayton dominating my body flooded my mind.  I gulped down the rest of my martini in order to mask my anguished expression.  My tactic must have worked, because the guy grinned at me and slipped off his barstool so that he could join me where I was leaning casually on the bar.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he said as he sidled in next to me.  “What’s your name?”

“Sarah,” I lied. 
Rose
wouldn’t be sleeping with this man; Sarah would.  Somehow, that would help me get through this.

He smiled at me warmly and extended his hand
so I could shake it.  “I’m John,” he introduced himself.  But instead of shaking my hand, he gripped it gently and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly.

Shit. 
Another white knight.

I took a deep breath. 
This is good.  You like this now.  Just go with it.

“Can I buy you a drink, Sarah?”  He asked, noticing my now-empty martini glass.

“Sure,” I forced myself to smile at him.  “I’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea, please.”

I would like to get completely fucked up, please. 
Getting drunk always lowered my inhibitions and made me horny.  I needed that desperately.

As John handed me my drink, I glanced over to see that Penny’s man was just ordering one for her.  I had beaten her by less than a minute.  She grinned at me a touch regretfully before raising her glass to toast me in congratulations, conceding her defeat.  But the victory felt
hollow, and I didn’t feel any sense of triumph.  Somehow, I managed a smirk and toasted her back.

“Friend of yours?”
  John asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.  “We just had a little bet going.  I won.”

“Oh?  And what was the bet?”

I touched his arm lightly, the slight contact full of promises that I wasn’t at all sure I could keep.  “That I could snare a hotter guy than she could,” I lied to stroke his ego.

His brows rose in flattered surprise.  “Well, she can join us if she wants,” he said, his smile a lustful invitation.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” I purred.  “But
unfortunately I don’t think she would be comfortable with it.”  That last part was true, and my first statement was half-true.  I was interested in involving another woman in my sexual play, but I would never be comfortable introducing my vanilla friend into the mix.  That would be too weird.

The interest in John’s eyes didn’t waver.  “I’m cool with that, ba
by.  I’m sure you’ll be hard enough to handle that you’ll need my full attention.”

The indication that he might be a little controlling in the bedroom should arouse me, but I just felt cold.  It b
othered me that he assumed sleeping with me was a foregone conclusion.  Did I scream
slut
that loudly?

Yes.  Yes I did.  And it wasn’t fair for me to resent John for making the assumption.  I had come onto him strong, after all, and within a few minutes I
had basically promised him I was a sure thing.

God, I hated myself.  I felt dirty and desperate and worthless.

I took long draws of my Long Island Iced Tea through my straw, drinking almost half of it without pausing for breath.  The buzz of the ridiculous amount of alcohol went to my head almost instantly.

“Damn, baby, you in a hurry or something?”  John asked. 
“Because I don’t mind that.”

Well I
did
mind.  My behavior sickened me.  I had always been able to shove down my discomfiture at my reckless actions.  But Clayton had made me acutely aware of the fact that I was destroying my own sense of self-worth.

God, why couldn’t I stop thinking of him?  I had come here to escape the pain of losing him, but it was futile.  He had ruined me.

I felt stupid, drunken tears sting at the corners of my eyes.  John’s cocky expression instantly shifted to one of concern, and he took my hand in his.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?  Was it something I said?  I didn’t mean to insult you.”

It was his kindness that broke me.  I let out a sob, and the tears spilled freely down my face.

John looked alarmed and utterly bewildered at my total 18
0°
.

“I’m- sorry,” I gasped out as I fought to heave in air between the sobs that now wracked through my chest.  “You didn’t do- anything.  It’s- me.”  I turned from him quickly, jerking my hand out of his.  I hated that I had allowed him to touch me even in that innocent way.

I fled from the bar, oblivious to the stares I was attracting with my erratic behavior.

“Rose!”  Penny called after me as I crossed the threshold and stepped out onto the sidewalk.  “Rose, wait!”

I spun to face her.  “Please, Penny,” I begged.  “Don’t ask me about it.  I can’t…  I won’t talk about it.  I just want to go home.”

But I didn’t want to go home.  I wanted to go to Clayton.  I wanted him to hold me and comfort me; I wanted him to take care of me.  He made me feel cherished, like I was someone better than who I really was.  And even if I knew deep down that he wasn’t really seeing
me
when he looked at me like that, I almost didn’t care.

“Hey, Rose.”  I blinked hard to clear away the tears that blurred my vision, and I saw that Sharon had arrived out of nowhere.  “Why don’t you let me take you home?”  She asked gently.

Penny folded her arms across her chest distrustfully.  “Who the hell are you?”  She asked.  She sounded a little rude, but I knew she was just being protective of me.

“This is Sharon,” I said, my voice ragged from crying.  “She’s a friend of mine.”

I wasn’t quite sure if that was true; I didn’t really know the FBI agent, and I still resented her slightly for arresting Greg.  But she had been kind to me, and I knew she wouldn’t let me come to any harm.  I also knew it was safer to let her escort me back to my apartment so that I didn’t give in to the foolish temptation to go running to Clayton.

“Come on,” Sharon urged.  “I have my car here, so it’ll save you the cab fare.”

“Okay,” I breathed.  “I’ll see you later, Penn.  Thanks for trying to cheer me up.  I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

My friend’s arms closed around me, and she hugged me to her tightly.  “Anytime, Rose.  I’m here for you.  You can talk to me.  Call me if you need me, day or night.”

Her words brought on a new flood of tears.  She was a better friend than I had ever given her credit for.  “Thanks, Penn,” I whispered.  “I will.”

Sharon didn’t press me to talk about my problems as she drove me back to my apartment, and I was thankful for that.  Greg was home, but he was unmoving on his bed.  I wasn’t sure if he was high out of his mind or jus
t sleeping.  I was grateful he didn’t wake up when I came in.  If he wasn’t high and I disturbed him, he might go off on me.  He had such a short fuse now during his brief periods of sobriety.  He was using more often than ever now that he knew he was going to be forced to quit.  All I could do was hope this mess would soon be over and I could finally get him the help he needed.

I buried my face in my pillow to muffle the sound of my sobs.  It was soaked with my tears when I finally fell into sleep, utterly exhausted from my emotional turmoil.

“Baker!  Where are you, you little shit?  You think you can just take our drugs and then skip out on your part of the deal?”  The man’s shout as he pounded on the door jerked me out of my fitful slumber.  I ran to the door to see who was there; Greg stayed frozen on his bed, his eyes wide.  He looked too terrified to move.

My stomach clenched in fear when I looked through the peephole.  Two Latino guys were standing in the hallway.  They were big and heavily muscled.  And they looked
pissed. 
If they got in, they would tear my brother apart.

I dashed to my bed and grabbed my gun from underneath it and my cellphone from my bedside table.  I went back to the door and trained the gun on the men through the wood, steeling myself to use it if I had to.  With my free hand, I dialed
Clayton’s number, knowing I could get help from him more quickly than I could if I dialed 911.

“Go away!”  I
yelled, my voice high and thin.  “I’m calling the cops.”

“
Puta!
”  One of them cursed before he kicked in our flimsy door.  As it banged open, it smacked into my forehead, sending me reeling backwards.  The impact made my head spin, but I forced myself to stay on my feet.  My cell phone had slipped from my fingers, but I determinedly kept my grip on my gun.  I cocked it and pointed it directly at the two men who had come for Greg.

“Get out of here,” I demanded, trying to keep my hand from trembling.  “Leave my brother alone.”  I could feel something warm and wet trickling down the side of my face.

The men paused, looking wary as they stared down the barrel of the gun.  But they didn’t leave.

“Look, guys, I’m sorry,” Greg choked out.  “I just made a mistake.  I got too fucked up last night.  I swear I’ll make it up to you.  I’ll sell double tonight.”

“I know you will,” one of them said menacingly.  “We’re going to make sure you’re motivated.”

He started to advance on Greg.  But I wasn’t about to let him lay a hand on my baby brother.  Grasping the gun in both hands to steady it, I aimed at the floor and fired a warning shot right in front of the guy’s feet.  He cursed and jumped back, glaring at me.

“Get out!”  I shrieked.

“Crazy bitch!”
  He stood his ground for a moment, and I cocked the gun again.

“I won’t tell you again,” I threatened.

He glowered at me and spat on the floor.  But mercifully he decided it wasn’t worth risking it, and the two men backed slowly out of our apartment before running for the stairs.

As soon as I was sure
they were gone, I sat down hard on my bed, shaking madly and pressing my palms against my aching head to help alleviate the throbbing where the door had hit me.  It didn’t help much.

“Rose!”  Sharon’s voice was alarmed as her footsteps quickly approached me.  She gently grasped my hands and pulled them away from my face.  “Shit,” she cursed under her breath.  “Clayton is going to murder me.”  She raised her voice, addressing me again.  “Don’t move, Rose.  I’m calling the paramedics.”

Concern shot through me.  “Why?  Is Greg okay?”  I knew the Kings hadn’t attacked him, but the sharp pounding in my head was making me fuzzy.

Sharon eyed me carefully as she dialed.  “You’re bleeding, Rose,” she informed me.  “It doesn’t look bad, but you might have a concussion.”

I looked down at my hands as she ordered an ambulance to come to my apartment.  They were smeared with something crimson.  God, my head hurt.  I closed my eyes and lay back on my bed, trying to shut out the pain.

Sharon shook me insistently.  “Open your eyes, Rose,” she commanded.  “Don’t pass out on me.”

The hint of fear in her voice made me do as she said, but the way the room spun around me made me feel sick.