Beg Me (2 page)

Nothing but her memories.

And still his presence lingered. Still, his
ugliness ruined everything.

Two years…but it wasn’t getting better.
Wasn’t getting easier.

Fisting a hand in the sheet, she tried
to shove the memories away, tried to reach for happier, better
memories. They
existed
—there
were even memories involving words like
beg me, bitch
that were happier.

But even as she tried to reach for
them, she cringed, because just the image of her husband’s face was
enough to make her want to scream.
His
face was
Kent’s
face.
His
eyes were
Kent’s
eyes.
When she tried to think of the happy memories, from the sweet and
gentle, to the fun and happy, to the kinky and hot, everything was
warped by that last, awful night when Kent had broken into her
home.

Yes—there were happier memories, but
they were all tainted by Kent’s touch, and Tania just
couldn’t
find
them
anymore.
That
pissed her off
almost as much as anything, because he’d ruined memories of her
husband. The bastard.

“
You son of a bitch,” she whispered,
her voice harsh, broken.

He’d taken away a part of her—her fantasies,
her sexuality, and he’d also stolen away a part of the life she’d
shared with her husband, taken away those memories. With Kyle gone,
every memory was precious and her attacker had taken them, twisted
them.

Wiping the tears away, she sat up in the
bed, clutching her pillow against her chest. “You evil
bastard.”

He hadn’t just been a rapist. He’d been a
thief, stealing something so precious. Taking her sexuality was
awful enough, but it kept her from thinking about the memories with
her husband—times she’d treasured.

She didn’t know what she hated him for
more—the theft of her memories or the theft of her
self
. Taking so much of who she
was.

Taking her
life
.

And she’d known him—trusted him…

“
Oh God,” she whispered, swiping the
tears away. “This has to get better. It has to…”

But so far, it wasn’t. There were days,
sure, when she could get by without thinking of him, thinking of
that night. The attack. But all it took was a certain touch, or for
a man to look at her in a certain way. Or even a glimpse of a
picture…

Even looking at her wedding picture, sadly,
was enough.

She liked her sex kinky and rough sometimes,
and she’d been lucky enough to marry a guy who’d liked to give it
to her kinky and rough.

Losing him, that other half of her, had been
brutal. The year that followed had been awful, but she’d been
dealing with it. Adjusting.

Kent, though, he hadn’t coped with his
twin’s loss well.

Beg me, bitch. Don’t try to act like you
don’t want it…

“
No,” she whispered, pressing her face
into the pillow and shuddering.

She swallowed a sob as tears leaked out of
her eyes. Fought back the ugly, hated memories. And wondered what
it was going to take for her to get her life back.

S
he shuffled
into the kitchen less than two hours later, feeling like she’d been
battered. Her head ached, her eyes were gritty and her throat was
raw from crying.

She was spending today the same way she’d
spent it a year ago, trying to cope and just get through it. She
didn’t want to, but damn it, she didn’t how to stop this ugly cycle
in her head, either, didn’t know how to block out the image of
Kent’s face—so like Kyle’s…

A moan rose in her throat and she clamped a
hand over her mouth. “Stop it,” she muttered. “Just stop.”

Shoving a hand through her hair, she
muttered, “Coffee. Get coffee. Turn on the damn TV. Watch a
movie.”

She was going to make it through the day.
She promised herself that.

Five minutes later, she had her
coffee. She had a movie picked out. She was almost
calm
, even. For her, considering
what day it was.

It took only a phone call to shatter it
all.

She was walking past the phone when it
rang.

Tania froze, staring at it. Icy sweat broke
out over her flesh when she saw the number.

It was a cellular number, one she’d known
for years—the number she’d ignored yesterday.

And here she was, calling again today.

Because her hand was shaking so hard, she
set her coffee cup down. Hand curled into a fist, she stared at her
ringing phone.

“
I’m not answering,” she whispered.
“I’m not.”

After the fourth ring, Gail Sinclair’s
voice rang in the air. “You’re awake, Tania. I know you are. I see
your lights.” There was a pause, then a soft, shaking breath. “I
know today is as hard on you as it is on me—well, maybe not as
hard. After all, you only lost your husband. I lost both of my
sons. You
took
one of them
from me. But I know it’s difficult for you. Otherwise you wouldn’t
be awake.”

Tania didn’t have to wonder how Gail could
see her lights.

The woman must be sitting in her car
out in front of Tania’s house. Damn it, had Kyle been the
only
sane
person in that
family?

Swallowing, she closed her eyes. Told
herself to walk away.

“
You’ll never heal as long as long you
hide from what happened. I know I won’t get justice for what
happened to Kent. But you need to come clean, Tania. Otherwise,
you’ll still be doing this next January 5. Awake, sobbing,
crying…living with the guilt as it eats it you alive.”

“
It’s already doing that,” Tania
muttered. “But it’s not
guilt
that’s eating me up, damn it.”

“
My son was no
rapist
,” Gail said, her voice breaking. “How
could you tell such ugly lies? Why won’t you just tell the truth?
Why—”

The phone disconnected.

The truth.

Tania laughed, an ugly, broken sound even to
her own ears.

Guilt…
She
shook her head. Did she deal with guilt? She had some, to an
extent, she supposed, but it was so lost in the pain, in the
misery—she only
wished
her
main problem was guilt. She was too busy trying to function with
the rest of it, with the
fear
, with the
anger
, with the desperate desire to just
get her life back
…

Tania only wished her one problem was
guilt.

She could cope with guilt.

Because she knew, at the end of it
all, if she had to do it again, she would. She’d killed a man
before he could hurt her again—that was it, plain and simple. And
she didn’t regret
that
. She
also didn’t regret knowing that Kent would
never
do that to another woman.

No, what she regretted was not having
the clarity to reach for her gun sooner. Not having the strength to
get away from him and stop him
before
.

Swallowing, she shook her head and
whispered, “It’s not guilt that’s killing me, Gail.”

Did Gail really want the damn
truth
?

Well, Gail…here’s the truth. I like rough
sex. I like kinky sex. Your good son—the one I was married to? He
had the same tastes and we use to act out all these nasty games
where he would pretend to rape me, where I would pretend to fight
him. We loved it.

At some point, he told his
brother about it—the stupid jerk.
Oh, there was some
guilt there. She was pissed off at the husband she’d adored—mad at
him for sharing something so private. Yeah,
there
was some guilt.

So Kent comes home from
Iraq and he’s messed up from the war, messed up from losing his
brother and I don’t know, but somehow, he decides what
he
needs to do is step into his
brother’s shoes—except
I didn’t want him to!
When I told him no, I meant it, but he wouldn’t
stop it!

Tania laughed again, but it felt and sounded
more like a sob. She stumbled, caught herself on the counter.
Leaning forward, she slammed her head into the oak cabinet in front
of her, welcomed the pain. Abruptly, she swung out, punched it with
her closed fist. It hurt—gloriously. More pain—

She hit it again, again, again.

It wasn’t until she saw the bright red
splatter that she realized she was bleeding.

Shaken, she stared at the back of her
hand. Swollen and bloody, the knuckles torn, and now that she was
aware of it, it
hurt
. A
lot.

“
Aw, shit,” she muttered.

That was it.

Things were going to change, damn it.

She was taking her life back.

Taking her memories…taking
herself
back.

A
lthough he
couldn’t say he minded, Drake wasn’t exactly planning on seeing
Tania here today.

Not that he
minded
. No, Drake always considered his days
better for seeing her. He hadn’t ever let her know that—her or
anybody else.

Especially not Kyle. He figured it couldn’t
ever be a good idea to let your best friend know you had a thing
for his wife.

The poor bastard. Drake wished he was still
here—their lives would have been so much easier, so much better if
the man hadn’t died. Tania’s for certain. Even Drake’s, not that it
had ever sat well with him for him to be dreaming over Tania—which
he had done for years.

Hell, he still dreamed about her. Still
longed for her, still wanted her.

Still had the same damn reaction, a very
visceral, very basic reaction when he saw Tania Sinclair. A very
immediate one. One that had been the same for going on five years
now—he got hard as a damn pike.

Seeing her saunter into his garage on that
cold January day made him ache even as it made him smile. Even as
it made him grieve. Even as he searched her face for signs of a
sleepless night, for signs of misery, for signs of
restlessness.

He couldn’t see her without thinking about
Kyle, and he couldn’t think about her without remembering a day
when he’d seen far more of that woman than a guy should ever see of
his best friend’s wife.

Now his widow.

He shoved up off the ground and grinned at
her. “Hey, beautiful. How are you?”

“
I’m good, Drake. And you?” The solemn
smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He shrugged. “Can’t complain, I guess.” He
studied her dark brown eyes, hating the shadows he saw there. “Have
to say, my day is always better for seeing you. Did you sleep
okay?”

“
Well enough, considering.” She
shrugged.

He knew she wasn’t talking about the
margaritas. Nodding, he said, “That’s good.”

She gave him a tight smile and glanced away.
“Ah, well. I was wondering. Maybe you could come over for dinner. A
way to say thanks.”

“
You don’t need to thank me, Tania,”
he said gruffly.

“
I know.” Nibbling on her lip, she
paused, then added, “Actually, I just…well. I like spending time
with you, talking with you.”

If she’d popped him in the nose, he
didn’t think he would have been any more surprised. Was she asking
him on a date? Then he wanted to kick himself—she wouldn’t be
asking him on a date. Hell, even if she
was
attracted to him, and he wasn’t exactly
expecting that, but even if she was, she wouldn’t be doing it
today.

But he couldn’t say no to Tania.

“
Sure,” he said, feigning a casualness
he didn’t quite feel. “When were you planning?”

“
Tonight?” She blurted it out like she
had to make herself say it, and the stress he saw in her eyes was
like a fist around his heart. “I mean, if you don’t have plans? I
know it’s Friday, but…”

“
Nah. No plans. Just tell me what
time.”

“
Seven. Nothing fancy.” She gave him
another solemn smile. And then, to his surprise, she moved closer
and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He wanted, more than anything, to turn his
head and capture her mouth with his.

But he held still, gave her another
friendly, easy smile.

One he held until she was out of his garage.
It wasn’t until he saw her drive off that he let himself collapse
back against the car behind him.

“
Fuck,” he muttered, wincing as he
pressed his hand against the swollen ridge of his cock. He hoped
the coveralls he wore had camouflaged it. The last thing that woman
needed was to know he had to fight the urge to mentally undress her
every time he saw her.

After what that bastard Kent had done to
her, she probably couldn’t stand the thought of sex anymore.

One more thing the monster should rot in
hell for—he had a whole list of sins, Drake knew, but what he’d
done to Tania…

He shoved off the car, started to pace.
Absently, he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. Almost
everybody who’d known Kent had been in shock after his death—after
what he’d done, after Tania had shot him in self-defense— but Drake
hadn’t. They didn’t want to believe what they heard, despite how
battered she’d been.