Blame It on the Shame (Blame It on the Shame: Lou-Lou and Ricardo's Story #1) (14 page)

It was a gift and a curse...because I realized that even the bathtub couldn't get rid of the dirty feeling lurking inside me.

But it's still the place I go when the flashbacks get the best of me.

It's my favorite place in the world and the closest thing to real freedom I've ever experienced...until now.

I should be happy DeLuca gave me this opportunity...but I can't even enjoy it.

I get up and walk past the towel rack seeing as the bathtub wasn't filled with any water and make my way into the quaint living room.

Finally deciding I've had enough of this apartment, I leave and go for a walk.

I bring my cell phone with me in case I get lost, but I feel like a fool because the only number programmed in it is Bruno's.

Bruno DeLuca—my savior...my protector...my incubus. My Satan in angel's clothing.

The man I can't disentangle myself from no matter how much I want to because I don't know what will happen or what will become of me.

I'm scared it might be the thing to finally break me.

I don't understand how it's possible to love someone like him in the first place...how it's possible to love someone who's done what they have, but still, I do.

The fact of the matter is...when you're on your last breath—it doesn't matter who comes along and breathes life back into you.

DeLuca saved me when no one else did.

Even though the cord he's ensnared me with causes me to suffocate now.

He still rescued me from a different kind of hell first.

Chapter 5 (Ricardo)

I look for something to wipe the blood off my hands but come up empty.

Dammit
, I should have been better prepared. Then again, tonight was kind of a last minute situation.

Something to take the edge off my fucked up head.

I check my watch. 3:15 am. Perfect.

That means the chances of running into Tyrone or Jackson in the hallway are pretty much non-existent.

I slow down the pace of my run to a brisk walk and enjoy my last few moments of peace when I see my apartment building on the horizon.

Usually, I'm focused and observant when it comes to my surroundings but clearly; that's not the case tonight because before I can stop myself, I'm plowing straight into something, or rather someone.

I don't even have a chance to right myself
or
them before they're screaming, “Jesus, walk much? Watch where you're going, douchebag.”

The voice sounds familiar and I look down in a combination of surprise and panic when I see Lou-Lou brushing off her hands and standing back up.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize...wait, why exactly am
I
a douchebag? It was a mistake.”

She thinks about this for a moment before replying, “Because you knocked me over.” Her eyes appraise me up and down. “Look at the size of you and look at the size of me, you could have killed me.”

“Wow,” I say. “Over dramatic much?” I hold up my hand's. “Like I said, it was a mistake. But what the hell are you doing walking the city streets alone at 3am? Because
that
shit could kill you.”

She doesn't answer me because her hand flies over her mouth and she lets out a gasp. “Forget
me
. What the hell are
you
doing? Why do you have blood all over your hands?”

Motherfucking shit
.

She takes a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

I take a step back and put my hands at my sides. “I'm fine.”

She digs around in her purse. “No, you're not. You're bleeding and you have scrapes on your knuckles.”

It's not my blood.

I don't even have time to protest because she's reaching for my hands and dabbing some shit on my knuckles. “Sorry, I should have warned you it would sting.” I don't say a word because the reason I'm pulling back
isn't
because it hurts.

It's because she's being so nice to me and she's taking care of me.

It's a strange feeling...completely unfamiliar.

I
take care of and look out for those I care about, namely Tyrone and Jackson.

But when you get right down to it, I'm the only one who takes care of
me
...it's been that way for as long as I can remember.

She reaches for my other hand. “But then again, you
did
knock me down so I guess we're even, huh?”

“Not my fault you're the size of a Polly pocket.”

She stops messing with my hand and gives me that '
fuck you
' smile of hers. On another girl, it would look downright bitchy, but on her...I don't know...it's kind of sexy.

I bet she's
wild
in bed.

Fuck.

My dick needs to reverse the course and abort this mission because there's no way in hell I'm ever pursuing the idea of fucking her.

That land has already been flagged...by the man I hate.

She goes back to cleaning my hand and I have to force myself not to look at her.

But it's hard in more ways than one because those bright doe eyes are downright hypnotizing and that full bottom lip of hers is just begging to be sucked on.

Nope,not going there.
I can't.

Fucking her would be like taking a big ol' bite out of Eve's apple—and I'm fully aware DeLuca's the serpent.

I yank my hand back with abrupt force. “You can stop now.”

She looks taken back for a moment before her gaze darkens. “You're welcome, asshole.”

“I don't recall asking for your help in the first place.” I gesture to the apartment complex. “Now go home, you shouldn't be out here this time of night.”

Her tongue finds her cheek and her expression turns fierce. “You don't control me. I can do what I want.”

“Not when you belong to DeLuca you can't.”

For a moment I think something like an understanding passes between us, but I'm dead wrong because she says, “That's why you took care of me last night, isn't it? It wasn't because you're some kind of upstanding guy with a good heart. It's because you're afraid of him and what he could do to you. God, I'm so stupid.”

I open my mouth to tell her she's wrong but she storms off in the direction of the apartment building...while raising her middle finger in the air.

She's been walking around the apartment complex at all hours of the night...for five days straight now.

I tried taking the high road and explaining myself to her again but she won't have it.

I also tried talking to her about this upcoming Saturday night, given it will be her first time in the cage but she slammed the door in my face and told me to fuck off.

That's when I called her a brat and told her to grow the fuck up...
literally
.

I might have also shouted something about her having a
Napoleon complex
.

Her response to
that
came in the form of her throwing another bottle of whiskey at me.

This time from her third story apartment building as I was leaving to go to the gym.

Tyrone laughed when I told him and said it explained why she knocked on his door randomly and asked if he had a bottle of Jack Daniel's lying around.

She's what Momma would probably refer to as '
rough around the edges
' but that still doesn't even begin to explain her behavior or her personality.

I'd assumed she was giving both Jackson and Tyrone the same treatment...but I soon find out otherwise.

“Nope,” Tyrone says. “I can't speak for Jackson but she's been
awfully
nice to me. Which works in my favor since according to
her
...she's free rein.”

He finishes off his statement with a grin that I have the urge to wipe off his face.

Instead, I turn '
coach mode
' on. “Be ready to hit the gym in 5 minutes.” I pin him with a stare. “And I hope for your sake you ate your
Wheaties
because you'll be facing me in the boxing ring today.”

I like to mix up the training from time to time. Usually, I have Jackson and Tyrone fight one another since they work well together and still manage to provide enough of a challenge to the other one.

But every so often, I throw in a wild card to keep them on their toes...
me
.

They hate those days.

I live for them.

Especially today because Tyrone's been pissing me the fuck off for the past few days.

I love him like a brother, but right now; I want to beat the crap out of him for acting like a sly motherfucker ever since
she
showed up.

He lifts his chin and puffs out his chest. “Fine.” He waggles his eyebrows. “But I have a date tonight so try not to wear me out too much.”

I don't even realize I'm charging him until Jackson's stepping between us. “I told you, she's
not
yours,” I growl.

Jackson does the smart thing and instead of attempting to stop
me
, he pushes Tyrone back until he's standing in the living room.

It gives me a second to calm the fuck down and control myself.

I know what I'm capable of when I go to that place and I don't want to kill him.

He
is
my friend after all and I do care about him.

“Well, she's
not
yours either, brother,” he shouts. “Believe me, she made that
perfectly
clear. A
few
times now.”

“What the fuck, Tyrone!” Jackson yells, surprising me.

I know he's closer to Tyrone than me...I get it.

I'm their friend and I'd
like
to think they think of me as an older brother...but I'm their coach first.

It's my job to make sure they don't get destroyed in that cage as well as make sure they stay off DeLuca's radar. In addition to ensuring they make it out of their contracts alive..and sometimes that means being really fucking hard on them and drawing a line.

“What?” Tyrone booms.

Jackson gives him a look. “That's fucked up is
what
. He already told you he didn't want you hitting on her and now you're taking her out on a date?”

Tyrone sidesteps him and jerks a shoulder up. “I really don't see what the big deal is.” He looks at me. “It's obvious he
lied
to us about what's going on.”

I feel a twinge of nervousness thinking she spilled the beans about who I really am until he says, “Lou-Lou said they
never
once hooked up and there is absolutely nothing going on between them. For fucks sake, they don't even know each other.”

I should just tell him that she belongs to DeLuca. I know he can keep a secret and he'll stay far away from her when he finds out she's his.

But then again...I don't want to tell him something like that without giving Lou-Lou a heads up about it first.

And that's when it dawns on me...why the
fuck
is she agreeing to go on a date with Tyrone in the first place?

Something's not right...and like it or not she's going to have no choice but to talk to me before the night is over.

Tyrone takes a step forward. “I'm just asking for honesty, Ricardo. Because according to her—you guys are
nothing
and have no history. In fact, I hate to be the one to break it to you but she kind of despises you. She says you're an asshole to her.”

He reaches for his gym bag. “And not for nothing, I believe her because you don't seem all that into her. At least, not until
I
talk about being interested in her. Then you go all he-man. So what the fuck is up?
Are
you actually into her? Or do you have some kind of personal problem with
me
and she's the scapegoat?”