Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) (20 page)

Shit…
He needed to go somewhere—needed to blow off this energy simmering inside him like a pressure cooker. He needed to give Olivia the space to rethink her hasty decision to ditch her wedding plans and climb into bed with someone who could never fully meet her needs as a woman. Someone whose desires she couldn’t meet without fear of bodily harm. Now, if that wasn’t a deal breaker, he didn’t know what was. In fact, as much as he hated to admit it and as much as it killed him to think it, the best thing he could do for her, if he really loved her, was return her to Mitch before he ruined her life.

“Liam—”

He felt the caress of her sleep-rasped voice all the way to his bones.

“Liam, look at me.”

“I’d rather not,” he answered into his hands. Lord knows what she’d see in those blasted mood rings he had for eyes. And he knew what he’d see the moment he turned around—a halo of black silky hair spread across her crisp white pillow, emerald green eyes staring at him with, no doubt, regret. Her bottom lip would be tucked between her teeth. The graceful arch of her neck would bear two cherry red marks from his passionate kisses.

“I think we need to talk.” The hesitation in her voice stung like a knife through his chest.

“I agree, but I think it’d be more appropriate if you dressed first.” He failed to add
because it’s killing me to sit here with you like this and not touch you again, not kiss you—

“Appropriate? Appropriate!”

The flare of her temper surprised him, abrading his flesh like sandpaper.

“You didn’t seem too concerned about ‘appropriate’ last night when you were knelt between my—”

“Stop!” His command flew out of his mouth in a growl harsher than he’d intended. “I remember full well where I was and what I was doing last night. I don’t need to hear you say it.”
Especially when I can still taste you.

“Then do you also remember the part about no regrets?” she challenged.

“Yes I do, and I won’t hold you to it.” He stood up, careful to keep his back to her. If he turned around, he’d be right back where he was last night and that wouldn’t do either of them any favors right now. “Look, Olivia, I need some time to process this, all right? This is all…new for me, and I need to take care of some things. We’ll talk when I get back.” He forced one foot in front of the other. If he didn’t leave right now, he wouldn’t be able to.

Before he reached the bedroom door, she called after him. “You think this isn’t new for me?” her voice was ripe with accusation. “What exactly do you think Mitch and I have done?”

He froze. Every muscle in his back jacked tight. Jealousy slammed into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He couldn’t do this right now—couldn’t let his mind go there—couldn’t have this conversation, not with so many raw emotions grappling for control of him.

The warrior in him wanted to go find Mitch and kill him. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t. Angels were forbidden to harm humans unless they were putting another human’s life at risk. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied, tempering his response.

“How can you not know? I thought you knew everything about me?” she accused.

He didn’t understand why she was getting so upset, but at the moment, he couldn’t compartmentalize his own emotions long enough to sort out hers. “There are certain…details of your life I’ve chosen not to be privy to.”

“Well, maybe you should have.”

“What?” he snapped, impulsively spinning around to face her. Who the hell knows what she saw in his eyes, but surprise registered in those tear-filled emeralds, so it must have been good.

“I never slept with Mitch. I just…couldn’t. And I never did anything like this with him, either!” She swept her arm down her sheet-clad body and across the bed of tangled covers. “And you’re an asshole for assuming otherwise!”

His moment of joyous relief was immediately quelled by the guilt and shame she hurled at him. He jacked his hand into his hair and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Olivia, I’m sorry.”

As if his feet had a will of their own, he moved toward her. To do what, he wasn’t sure—to comfort her, to hold her, to climb back under the covers with her and revel in the knowledge that this female was truly his and his alone—untouched by any other man. Already, the jealousy poisoning his veins was starting to ebb, clearing his mind to process more rationally.

But before he could reach her, Olivia’s hand flew up like a traffic cop, while the other clutched the white sheet to her breasts. “Stop!”

A tear spilled down her cheek, hitting him in the gut like a sucker punch, sending his feet to a grinding halt. Her tear landed on the sheet, leaving a single sheer spot over her breast.

“Just stop. I don’t want your apology. One minute ago you were in a big rush to leave me, so just go. Do whatever it is you have to do. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” With a brisk tug of the bed sheet, she jerked it free of the mattress and climbed off the bed.

Wrapping it around her backside like a toga, she turned away and marched into the bathroom without so much as a backward glance.

Aw hell…
He really was an asshole.

Chapter Seventeen

Mitch woke up to an intense pounding in his head. “Go away!” he yelled at the relentless, repetitious banging. Groaning, he grabbed a second pillow and stuffed it over his face, trying to block out the resonating pain. After several more minutes of the obnoxious, persistent thudding, a high-pitched ringing joined the mix.

“Son of a bitch!” He yanked the pillow off his head and whipped it across the room. Squinting against the bright sunlight, he sat up and checked the alarm clock beside his bed—9 a.m. The pounding continued and the chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the house again. Mitch reached up and covered his ears, trying to block out the incessant noise and to keep his brain from leaking out. Damn, this was one nasty hangover.

Bang, bang, bang…ding-dong, ding-dong…
“All right, all right,” he crabbed, throwing the covers aside and climbing out of bed. Mitch scrubbed his face with his hands as he dragged ass down the hall, trying to wake up before descending the stairs. The loud banging still hadn’t ceased when he reached the front door and wrenched it open, pulling it away from the fist persistently pounding away.

“Can I help you?” Mitch snapped, glaring up at the guy filling his doorway. He met the piercing violet glare with false bravado. It was a bit difficult not to feel conspicuous, standing there half-dressed, wearing only the jeans he’d been too intoxicated to remove last night.

The stranger still hadn’t answered him, and with the mood Mitch was in, he certainly didn’t have time for this shit. “Look, I’m not interested in buying any Girl Scout cookies, but I do appreciate you testing the functionality of my doorbell and the sturdiness of my front door. Thank you, really. Now I can take that off my list of things to do today.” He took a step back and was about to slam the door in the guy’s face, when he finally spoke, halting Mitch mid-swing.

“Does Olivia know you’re such a dick?”

There were two reasons Mitch resisted the impulse to punch this guy in the face. First: The stranger had nearly four inches and seventy-five pounds on him and was built like a brick shithouse. The guy definitely looked like he could give as good as he got, and Mitch’s head was already throbbing. Second: He wanted to know who the hell this guy was and how he knew Olivia. It was a fairly reasonable assumption that the guy probably wasn’t going to be so forthcoming on the intel with Mitch’s fist slamming into his face.

 “How do you know Olivia?” Mitch demanded.

The guy’s brow arched arrogantly. “You really want to do this out here? I suggest you let me inside.” He didn’t wait for Mitch to step aside or even invite him in, for that matter.

He could either get the hell out of the way or he was getting mowed down. The guy shoulder-checked him as he walked by, a completely unnecessary douche bag move. He already ached from head to toe because of the beating Jack Daniel’s had given him last night. The last thing he needed was this asshole pissing on his turf.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk.”

“Yeah, I’d say. You can start by telling me who in the hell you are,” Mitch growled, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I’m Liam’s friend, and I’m the guy that’s going to give you some advice that’s going to save your life.”

Mitch looked at “Liam’s friend” in stunned silence. He didn’t much like the guy before, and sure as hell didn’t like the bastard now. “You’ll have to excuse me if this revelation doesn’t exactly fill me with warm fuzzies,” Mitch grumbled, walking into the kitchen, giving the guy his own shoulder-check as he walked past him. He could give as good as he got, too. No way in hell he was gonna cow to Liam’s friend. Damn, he needed a cup of coffee—bad.

“You’ll have to excuse my manners if I don’t offer you a cup of coffee,” he grumbled, pulling a mug out of the cupboard. Thank God for small favors…the pot was still hot from the 7 a.m. automatic brew. “But you won’t be staying long enough to finish it. So, tell me, why are you here?” Mitch turned, giving him a point blank glare. “Keeping tabs on me for Liam, are ya? Trying to keep me out of his way, perhaps?”

Balen snorted. “As if you’re any competition for him. Olivia is alive because of Liam, you damn fool! Can’t you see beyond yourself long enough to realize that? I’m telling you, Mitch, don’t go after her. It will end badly if you do.”

Mitch stilled, setting his coffee on the counter and slowly turning to face his uninvited guest. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

“Don’t leave with those two you met at the bar last night,” Liam’s friend warned, ignoring Mitch’s question. “They aren’t who you think they are.”

“I don’t give a shit
who
or
what
they are. All I care about is getting Olivia back!”

That arrogant brow cocked up over jade green eyes, throwing off sparks of amethyst. Aaaand that was Mitch’s first clue the guy glaring at him from across the room wasn’t human. “It didn’t look like that was all you cared about last night,” he growled, taking an I’m-going-to-beat-your-ass-in-about-two-seconds step toward him.

Shit…

“Who in the hell do you think you’re kidding? FYI, it’s pretty hard to play the jilted fiancé when you’re trying to get in her best friend’s pants.” The guy stopped his predatory descent inches from Mitch’s face, pinning him against the counter. “And by the way,” he growled, “keep your hands off Ashley or next time I’ll throw you out the damn window.”

Abruptly, his uninvited guest turned and stalked away. A moment later, the front door slammed shut with a window-rattling
bang.

Shit!
Mitch groaned, jacking his fingers through his hair, heaving a deep sigh. Did Ashley say something to him? She must have. How else would he know? She must be so pissed off right now. The deets on what went down between them last night were foggy, but he remembered enough to know he’d made a huge mistake. He’d been reluctant to take “no” for an answer, and in his alcohol-sodden perception of reality, he’d believed she’d been into it, too, but was grappling with feelings of guilt he’d been confident she would overcome with a little persistent persuasion. He’d made an absolute ass of himself and the entire left side of his body felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck.

Feeling like a complete asshole, he pitched his coffee into the sink and went upstairs to shower. He needed to get cleaned up so he at least looked halfway presentable when he went over and apologized to Ashley for being such a douche. Then he’d come home and pack for his road trip.

***

Ashley grabbed her iPod off the counter and stuck the buds in her ears, stretching a few times to limber up before her morning run. Her ponytail bobbed as she jogged down the stairs, pausing as she pulled the door closed behind her. She turned abruptly, ready to take off, and nearly tripped over Mitch sitting on her front step.

She let out a surprised yelp and leapt to the side, pulling an impressive
Matrix
move to keep from crashing into him. Reaching up, she yanked
My Humps
out of her ears and draped the cords around her neck. “Jeez, Mitch, you sacred the crap out of me! What are you doing?”

“Hey, Ash, you got a minute?”

“Not really. How long have you been sitting out here?” She didn’t particularly want to deal with him this morning. She had quite enough last night, thank you very much. When he glanced up at her, the sun caught the dark shadowing around his left eye, and she winced. He looked like hell. Serves him right, but then a twinge of pity softened her heart. “I was just about to go meet Nate for a run in the park. You wanna come?”

Mitch shook his head and then winced as if the slightest movement pained him. Grabbing the railing, he used it to slowly leverage himself up. The guy looked absolutely miserable. “I don’t think so. I’m still pretty hung over, Ash.”

Okay, so clearly it took a great amount of suffering on his part to get here, looking and obviously feeling like shit, so maybe she should just give him five minutes and hear what he had to say. She sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the opposite railing he clung to. “What’s on your mind, Mitch?”

He met her guarded stare, and it surprised her to see the sincerity reflecting back at her. “I’m sorry about last night, Ash.”

“You remember that, huh?”

“Yeah, I feel it, too.” He reached up and rubbed his shoulder gingerly.

She exhaled loudly, feeling a small measure of sympathy for the guy. “I was hoping you wouldn’t. You were pretty wasted, Mitch.”

“Did I…” He paused to run his hand through his hair, “hurt you last night?”

She shook her head. “You just scared me, is all…when you wouldn’t stop.”

“Aw shit,” he growled in disgust, scrubbing his face with his hands as if that would erase the memory. “I hope you know I wouldn’t have... I never would have forced—”

“I know,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear him say the words—even though she wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have. For the most part, he was sober now and she knew it was hard for him to be here, having this conversation with her. No doubt, he hated himself like hell for what happened.