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Just as I was leaving Blackie’s to make a mad dash to Abby’s place, a hand stopped me. I turned, ready the lay the fucker out.
Lukas fucking Black stood there, staring at me.
“You need to tell your sister to call me,” he says, the expression on his face grave.
I don’t like the look, and I like it even less that he’s keeping me from leaving and going to Abby.
“What the fuck did you do?” I growl, knowing the only reason he would be having trouble getting in touch with Tera would be because he did something wrong.
I take a step toward him, ready to lay the fucker out, when I think of all the possibilities of what he could have done.
“Not a fucking thing, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“The hell you say,” I snarl. “When it comes to my sister, especially if it involves you, then I make it my business.”
We’re nose to nose, and I want nothing more than to teach this motherfucker a lesson, but I don’t have time. Out the corner of my eye, I see one of Lukas’s goons making his way over to us. Lukas holds up his hand, warding him off.
“Watch it, Maverick. Tera’s brother or not, I’ll take you out.”
“Sister or not, try and see how far you get,” I retort, not backing down. This asshole doesn’t scare me. “You may have people in your pocket, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have some in mine. Now get the fuck out of my way.”
My patience is paper thin, and I’m done with Lukas. After glaring at him another second, I walk around him.
“Tell Tera to call me, Maverick,” he yells, making it sound like a warning.
“Fuck you,” I yell
over my shoulder, not bothering to look back.
No fucking way in hell am I telling Tera to call that fucker. After calling her and getting her voicemail, I called our mom and found out she’s at our parent’s house. Mom said she was fine, just quiet and withdrawn. Tomorrow, I’ll go see Tera and find out what he did to her, and determine if I need to hunt him down and tear him limb from limb. My only focus tonight is getting to Abby. My gut is telling me that I’m running out of time.
I race into her apartment complex and park my truck behind Nathan’s. I hate knowing that he’s here with her during a vulnerable time. I hate knowing he’s probably caring for her, but I’m also glad she isn’t alone. My feelings aside, I would never want her to be alone at a time like this. I just wish it was me that was with her right now. I’m not sure I trust Nathan yet, but I do trust Abby.
I take the stairs two at a time and run over to Abby’s door. It’s locked when I try it, so I pound on the wood. Time seems to stand still as I wait for someone to answer. I’m just about to shoulder my way through, when it’s pulled open and a scowling Nathan appears in the doorway.
Pain hits me square in the chest and knocks me back a step as I take in his disheveled appearance. His hair and chest appear to be wet, like he just had a round of hot and sweaty sex, and he’s in nothing but a pair of jeans, which have the button undone. There is no fucking way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. No fucking way would Abby sleep with the bastard that’s standing in front of me. Not when her and I are together.
Unless she was in so much pain she had no choice, my mind whispers.
The pain of that thought has my heart pounding painfully in my chest. Can I really blame her if she did? I saw the condition she was in when I found her that day in the shower. She was barely holding on. Will I be able to get past it, knowing another man has touched her while being with me? Knowing that this is my fault, that I’m the one to blame because I wasn’t here tears me to shreds.
Rage for the man standing in front of me starts taking hold. The heated look he’s giving me does nothing to quell my anger. But seconds later, it’s the guilt I see flash across his face that sends me over the edge of destruction. He has no fucking right to feel guilty. I may have put Abby in this situation by not being here, but I have no doubt he took advantage of it.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m stepping toward him, my fist raised to strike. “You fucking bastard,” I hiss, right before my fist crashes against his face. His head jerks to the side and he stumbles back a step.
We’re of equal size, so my punch doesn’t do what I wanted it to, which is land him on his ass. He turns his head back to me slowly, and licks the small trail of blood that trickles from his split lip.
“It’s not what it looks like.” His voice is deep, and filled with something I can’t quite name.
My glare travels down his near naked form. “You fucking dare lie to me?” I sneer. “Tell me right fucking now that you didn’t touch her!”
The guilt is back on his face, and it ramps up my anger even more. I swing my fist at him again, but this time, he deflects by ducking. My second swing clips him on the chin, but it isn’t nearly hard enough for me, so I swing again. My anger and pain is so great, that I’m clumsy in my moves. He ducks my fist again, and manages to grab hold of my wrists. He somehow maneuvers his way around my back, my wrist still in his grip, and pins it high up on my back. My chest is heaving, and there’s a pounding in my head. I don’t even try to yank away from him, because what’s the point? What’s done is done, and the fault is all mine.
I feel him at my back, when he growls in my ear, “I did touch her. I touched her long enough to undress her and get her in the shower to cool her fevered body down, then put her to bed. But make no mistake, Colt, it did almost go there. She needed it. Man, she needed it so fucking bad. We were there, in her bathroom. In her weakened state, she reached for me. I let her, because it fucking guts me to see her like that, but she stopped it. She’s the one who backed away, even knowing what she must have been going through, the pain coursing through her body, she still refused to give her body what it needed. I care for that girl, and will do anything for her, so had she continued, I damn sure wouldn’t have stopped her, even if it would have destroyed her afterwards. I would give her anything she needs.”
He turns quiet for a moment, both of us breathing heavily. My eyes lock on his reflection in the window across the living room. I can barely make out his face, but what I do see is pain, and his own batch of anger.
“What nearly happened tonight is on you,” he grates out. “You weren’t there for her when she needed you the most, which just proves to her that something real between the two of you could never happen. You are the one who let her down. This was not her being weak.”
