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6
Mare
If an attacker has you pinned, the worst thing you can do is panic. My self-defense instructor’s words echoed in my head. At the time, he’d been reciting the words calmly, but now, I felt like they were being screamed in my ear at such a high volume that I could barely understand them.
Don’t panic, he’d said.
When is a good time to panic?I thought as vomit crawled up my throat, pushing against the squeezing grip the man had on me.
“You like that?” he slurred, his head slumping to the side as he spoke. I continued to struggle against his hold despite my mind starting to grow hazy, darkness creeping in on the edges of my vision. Right as I brought my elbow up, his hands left my neck. I didn’t realize my eyes had closed, but as soon as I was free, they flew open and I sucked down air.
My attacker was being hauled up by a figure dressed in a black suit coat and dark wash jeans. I couldn’t see his face from the angle I was at, only his arm as it cocked back and he punched the drunk in the face. The adrenaline that continued to course through my body only pumped harder, my eyes widening.Holy shit, I hadn’t heard him enter the room.
I watched through blurry eyes as my savior continued to wail on my attacker. The darkness of the room was making it hard to see, but the sound of his flesh and bone grinding against each other with such force both scared and invigorated me. I hadn’t even noticed myself crawling until the sight of a gun hidden in my savior’s coat stopped me.
Oh, fuck.
Just like that, my stunned shock wore off. Scrambling to get to my feet, only one instinct filtered through my thoughts—I had to get out of here. The last time I’d seen a man with a gun … I stopped that thought from even forming. I didn’t want to remember, but much more than that, I really didn’t need to remember. Especially not right now.
I heard a pained grunt followed by a thud. After I managed to get up, I glanced at the two men and found the one with the gun hauling my attacker through the door. My savior’s movements were calm and determined despite handling an intoxicated man. When they disappeared from the room, I darted to where my backpack and clothes were stashed, but before I could get to it, the door reopened. With a flick of the light, I finally got a look at his face—a face I’d seen before, but not for a long time. No, the only time I’d seen that face in the last five years had been in my dreams. My breath caught in my chest, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I had passed out because there was no way he was here.
Ian Marshall.
One ofthem… the men I had left behind.
Something coiled around my limbs, but I couldn’t tell if it was the last of the adrenaline, disbelief, excitement, or a mix of each. My breath hitched and my lips parted, but no sound came out. Ian silently stared at me, his expression flickering between rage and longing. I wanted to go to him, but my feet were glued to the floor. What was he doing here? How did he know? A chill ran down my spine, and my body began to shake. As the adrenaline dissipated, I was left with shock and disbelief for what had happened and who was standing before me. A loud thumping bass brought me back to my senses and Ian’s deep blue gaze.
After a moment, he strode forward, grabbing me by my arm and dragging me from the room. The hallway was empty, my attacker having mysteriously disappeared. I gulped. My body nearly burned under Ian’s touch. It had been five years since I’d felt his calloused fingers on my skin and an undercurrent of electricity buzzed through my body as he pulled me past several doors. Opening one and glancing in, he must have found it empty because he pushed me inside.
“Stay,” he commanded, the door slamming shut immediately after.
“I’m not a damned dog,” I ground out in the silence, crossing my arms over my chest as I waited. The shiver that had started grew, the fading adrenaline leaving a cold numbness in its wake. Looking around, I took in my surroundings to try and distract myself with something—anything—other than the memory of the drunk man’s hands on me. I was in a lounge of sorts, a private room more than likely, a little smaller than the dressing room. There was a couch and a private bar. No windows.
A few seconds later, the door reopened, making me jump. I turned and watched as Ian stepped inside, holding the bag I’d left behind. He’d known that I’d brought it, and he’d known exactly where it was. My eyes narrowed slightly; the times I’d felt watched, the flowers, it all started to come together.
Of course, he fucking knew. Because I’d been right—they’d been watching me. A trickle of anger built; I had panicked, worried that it had been someone working for my father, but no, it had just beenthem—or maybe just him?
Ian closed the door, resting back against it for a moment before pushing off and stepping closer. Electricity raced through my body, as if every nerve beneath my skin was attached to a live bomb just waiting to go off. He circled me, and I watched him—watched his movements, his expression, his hands. His hands had always been beautiful. Large and strong. They looked rough, like he worked with them every day. There were tiny scars that littered his fingers—most likely old wounds from the pocket knife he kept in his pants.
Before everything had gone to hell and my father walked free from his murder charge, Ian would flip it open, toss it in the air, and catch it by the handle. It had taken him several tries to perfect his catch, and I’d seen him before with bandages circling his fingers where he’d cut himself.
I watched as those fingers reached into my bag and pulled out my wallet. He flipped it open and removed my driver’s license. The silence was tense, the air seeming to thicken as he neared where I stood, reading over the small plastic rectangle in his fingers. If he was here, then surely the other two weren't far behind.Would they all really see me like this?An equal mix of excitement, anxiety, and dread filled me. My body had been trained to react whenever Ian came near, and it had been trained well. My pulse started to pick up speed again, anticipating what it had been taught was coming next—a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Riding the edge of that excitement, my anxiety was also peaking, a sense of dread growing as I started to face the truth that everything I'd done, everything I'd given up might have been for nothing since they had found me once again.
“Mary Peterson,” he read with a disgruntled frown. The fake name on his lips made me flinch. He chuckled coldly, a small shake of his head before he looked at me. “So, that’s the name you went with. Seems kind of dull to me.”
“That’s the name they gave me,” I said defensively. “It was both similar and different enough to my old name that they didn’t think I’d have a problem remembering it. I didn’t choose it.”
“Whatdidyou choose then, Mare?” he asked. Ian dropped my wallet on the ground and kicked it away before bending down and meeting my eyes. “Did you choose the strip club?” I shook my head. “Did you choose the new get up?” He reached forward, fingering the white lace bra I was wearing. “Why even do this? You were doing just fine at Brutello’s. I know.”
“I needed the money; my landlord upped my rent.” Not that I had to explain to him why I did what I did, he wasn’t the one facing living on the streets. As the defiant thought swirled, his finger, thick and warm ran down beneath the strap, silencing anything else. He leaned forward, and I could feel my nipples puckering, growing tight until they were poking at the thin fabric, clearly visible.
“You needed the money…” He repeated the words with a scoff, snapping my bra strap so that it slapped my shoulder and made me jump. I knew without looking that it’d leave a bright red mark on my fair skin. Standing up, Ian took a step back. He was quiet for a moment as he watched me, analyzed me. Then, “Do you remember who I am, Mare?”
This is it,I realized.This is my moment to come clean, to finally talk to him after all this time.Five years ago, I’d told the truth about my father to a room full of people who’d been trying to take down Jason Perelli, and it had taken me far from this man.
Now, I could choose to tell the truth again. I’d walked away once, no goodbyes or explanations, only one final glance as I was ushered out of the room.Would it give them back to me or would they go back to the shadows after saving me, disappearing from my sight once more?I shouldn’t have wanted it, shouldn’t have craved the answer, but I couldn’t stop myself.The only way to find out is standing right in front of me.
Did I remember who he was?I inhaled and slowly released a breath. “Yes,” I answered.
