Dangerous (5 page)

Amy

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I’d just had one of that evening’s rare moments of clarity and I suddenly felt guilty for dragging Julia around what felt like every bar in the city.

“What for?” she asked, floating in front of me like some kind of vision.

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to focus. Everything was becoming hazy. “For dragging you here. For spending the past two hours moaning about how much my life sucks.”

She shook her head and clasped me to her in a tight hug. “Come here, stupid. You’re allowed to complain when your life sucks. And it’s not like I don’t owe you one. The number of times I’ve called you in the middle of the night…”

I held her tight, clinging on to her like she was the only lifeline I had.

In a way, she was now. My dad lived on the other side of the country. He’d flown in to visit when I was unconscious, but he’d made no promise to visit now that I was out of the coma. I knew it was my stepmom. The wicked witch of the west. They’d married when I was fourteen, but she’d never warmed to me. She was jealous of our relationship, immature and petty as that sounds. So she did her best to stop me from spending time with him. Sure, I could have pushed him to see me more, but it would have hurt to do it. I wanted
him
to be the one to stand up to her, not me.

And Ben. Well. There was a time when I would have gone to him, but that time was well past. He was officially out of my life, what with his having made me homeless and all.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered.

She pulled away and held my face in her hands. “Don’t cry sweetie. It’s going to be okay. I promise. We’re going to find you a new job. And a great new apartment. And a hot new boyfriend; one who treats you right.”

I looked at her, blinking. “I don’t want a new boyfriend.”

“Well a hot one night lay, then. Whatever you like.” She held up her glass and I clinked mine against it clumsily. “The world is your oyster, honey.”

I smiled, sipping my drink back and allowing myself to believe her. It couldn’t get much worse, right?

“C’mon,” Julia said.

“Wha—” I held up my glass to show her I still had half my drink left.

“Down it. We’re going to Tully’s.”

I frowned. “That place is even more dead that here.”

“Sometimes it’s busy. We’ll check in. If it sucks, we’ll go somewhere else on A.”

I nodded. I felt like an idiot, but suddenly the image of the hot guy from the night before wound its way into my tipsy mind.

“What?” Julia demanded.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Amy,” she said sternly. “You forget how well I know you.”

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I’d forgotten how impossible it was to get anything past her. “Do you think that guy will be there again?”

“What guy?”

“The guy. The
hot
guy.”

“Believe me, Amy. That place is full of hot guys on the weekend. Which one?”

I’d never been the most descriptive person in the world. “You know,” I insisted. “Sexy. Mean-looking.”

She closed her eyes and bent double, laughing. “Mean-looking mystery man. Okay.”

“You remember?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You have a way with words, you know that?”

***

Julia opened the door. I glanced around. To my disappointment, I didn’t see him. We walked to the bar and sat down. The place was quiet like I’d expected. But Julia was already making moves on Tony at the bartender. I rolled my eyes and looked around as I sat up on my stool. My heart stopped for a moment—at least it felt that way.

I told myself not to act like such an idiot. It wasn’t like I was an eighteen-year-old virgin. I was a grown woman, and there was no reason why I should go weak at the knees over some guy I’d never spoken to. But I didn’t know whether it was the alcohol in my system or the raw state of my nerves. I glanced at him again. He was hot. Seriously. Hot.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t seen him at first. Maybe it was his clothing—he was more dressed-down than the day before. I couldn’t see everything he was wearing, but it looked like he was wearing a lumberjack shirt. Usually, clothing like that would make me roll my eyes and put as much distance between myself and the wearer as possible. But he didn’t look like your average hipster. Julia had laughed at me when I said it, but it was true. He
was
kind of mean-looking. But in a really,
really
sexy way.

He glanced up then, and a bolt of lightning shot through me when our eyes met. I looked away, feeling rattled.

“Jules,” I hissed, as quietly as I could.

She flat-out didn’t hear me. She was totally engrossed in her conversation with the bar guy.

“Julia,” I said again.

She glanced at me. The only reason she heard me was because the bar guy had left temporarily to serve someone else.

“What?” she smiled.

“It’s him,” I hissed, subtly jerking my head in the direction of the guy from the night before.

She looked behind her and turned back to me, puzzled. “Who? Over by the pool table?”

I shook my head. “No. I told you about him earlier. The guy. Mean-looking mystery guy. Remember?”

A light came on in her eyes. “Ah.”

I nodded, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“You should go talk to him,” she said, her face scrunching up in mischief.

“Nah.”

“Why not? You’re young. You’re hot. You’re single.”

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks start to burn.

Julia fixed me with a determined stare.

“Amy,” she said with a slight slur to her words.

“Yes?” I asked, sneaking another glance at him.

“You get over there and speak to him. Or I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She nodded. “I would.”

She would. Even if she didn’t want to, she’d do it now that she’d said it. Julia was the most stubborn person I knew.

I glanced at him again. The guy seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings; running his fingers around the rim of his beer like he was mulling over the problems of the world. I wondered what he was thinking.

“Fine,” I giggled, feeling courage I didn’t usually have.

I pushed myself off my stool and stumbled slightly.

“Oops,” I mouthed theatrically to Julia.

I was drunker than I’d realized. But hell, my brain was fuzzy and I wasn’t thinking. That was all I wanted. I walked slowly and carefully along the bar, determined not to wobble. It was busier now that it had been when we’d arrived, but it was still by no means packed.

When I had almost reached his side I realized that I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I glanced back over my shoulder at Julia, but she was engrossed in conversation with Tony. I was on my own.

“You live in the area?” I asked, sidling up to him and easing myself onto the vacant stool beside him.

A little voice inside me told me not to be so fucking lame, but I tuned it out. Who cared anyway? I was homeless and unemployed. I was gonna have a little fun. Besides, what would I have said to him if I hadn’t been fuzzy drunk?
What do you think of the latest polls
? I wasn’t exactly a flirting pro when I was sober.

Steely blue eyes stared back at me. I blinked, trying to hear him over the music in the place. The volume seemed to have ratcheted up to double its previous level in the time it took to walk over to him.

“What was that?” I pulled my hair out of the way and leaned in closer.

“Yeah. Near here.”

“Oh cool.” I stared around me. There were thirty different guys in the bar now. I caught some of their eyes and they held lingering eye contact. I knew I could go up to any of them and start chatting. Some of them might even be interested in having a conversation. So what was I doing chatting to this guy? Even in my drunk state, I could sense his barriers. He didn’t want me talking to him.

Well, hell if I knew. Because none of the others, with their identical haircuts and uniform clothing, interested me. Except for him. He did. This strange, mean-looking mystery man.

“You like this place?”

His hand clamped tighter around his drink. “It’s fine.”

He wasn’t exactly being unfriendly. But he wasn’t welcoming either. “You had a bad day?”

I know, I know. I sound like one of those guys who try and chat up a chick in a bar. I’ve had them too. The moment you seem uninterested they get all aggressive and start to make out like it’s your fault for having a bad day or your period or whatever. I hate those guys. And here I was, acting just like one of them. Making out like this guy’s disinterest was somehow his fault.

I don’t know. Maybe I just needed… I just couldn’t handle one more rejection.

He glanced up at me again. This time, I registered the look in his eyes. It wasn’t irritation. It was surprise. “You could say that.” He looked back down at his beer again, and then, to my surprise, he glanced up. “What happened to your head?”

I know this is going to sound strange, but after spending the past several hours trying to make myself forget, I honestly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. My expression must have shown my confusion.

“Here,” he said, reaching up.

I flinched as his strong fingers brushed against the bottom of my beanie, where my bandage poked out. My eyes widened as I stared at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

He shook his head, that curious expression still on his face. “Don’t be,” he said slowly, like he was considering something.

I blinked, still surprised by my reaction. “My apartment was burgled. I was there.” I shrugged.

His expression darkened. “Some sick fuck hit you?”

I nodded. It was stupid, I knew, but there was something comforting about his tone. I felt protected. Safe. Despite how I’d reacted by instinct to his touch.

“You want a drink?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah. But I think you have a better chance of getting served in a dry county than you do right here.”

When I glanced at Tony, he was leaning over the bar making out with Julia, who was kneeling up on her stool in order to reach him. A queue had formed at the bar—something I’d never seen in Tully’s. I had to hand it to Julia—she knew how to cause a scene.

He followed my gaze. “You’re right.”

We lapsed into silence. “So… want to go someplace else?”

Surprise flickered across his face. Surprise and hesitation. I swallowed, reminding myself that it didn’t matter a dime if he came with me or not.

Rock bottom, Amy. Rock bottom.

“You got someplace in mind?”

I shook my head. “You’re the local.”

He looked thoughtful. “Come on,” he said, a couple moments later.

A bolt of excitement surged through me as I stood up and followed him in the direction of the door. I stopped by Julia and practically had to tear her face off Tony’s.

“We’re going someplace else.”

She frowned. “Where?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She shook her head. “And how do you know he’s not a murderer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you’re the one who basically instructed me to sleep with him.”

“That’s different.”

I laughed. “What? I can sleep with a murderer, but not go have a drink with him?”

She smiled. “That’s not what I meant. Give me a sec. I’ll come with you.”

“What about Tony?”

“Fuck him.”

“No.” We’d always had each other’s backs, but that had never gone so far as one of us leaving a date to play third wheel babysitter for the other.

“Whaddya mean? I’m just looking out for you.”

I stroked a long strand of blond hair away from her face. “Julia. You’re being overprotective. It’s sweet. But you don’t have to come. Stay here. Be gross and PDA’y with Tony.”

She made a face.

“I insist. I’ll call you when we get to the next bar.”

She shrugged. “Fine. But if I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

Amy

I woke up with a start. My head was thumping, like it always was these days. But this was different. I clenched my fingers to my temples in an attempt to stop the pain.

Ugh.

I opened my eyes slowly, each shaft of light setting my head on fire again. I cursed myself for not learning from my experience the day before. I opened my eyes again and looked around. Something wasn’t right. Julia’s apartment was light and airy. Bright. This place as different. Dark and oppressive. I sat bolt upright.

Where the hell am I?

The bedroom was neat and tidy, but sparse. Memories of the night before flooded back to me. Him. Mean-looking mystery man.

Oh god.

I wasn’t usually a victim of morning-after regret, but then I didn’t have a whole lot of experience of fuck ‘em and forget ‘em encounters. Usually, I got to know the guy before I went to bed with him…

I groaned and pulled the black quilted comforter up to hide my face. I couldn’t actually remember going to bed with him, but patches of the night before were flooding back to me. I squeezed my eyes closed. I’d known I was drunk, but I hadn’t cared. I’d been seeking oblivion after all.

We’d left Tully’s and strolled down the street. I’d done my best to act flirty and mysterious, but… fuck. I’d clung onto his arm and demanded to know what a sexy guy like him was doing alone in a bar. I remembered the look on his face.

But it got worse. Much worse. The last thing I remembered was a dark and crowded bar, where we’d somehow managed to find a small round table all to ourselves. Which wouldn’t be so bad. Romantic, even. Except I hadn’t seen fit to sit across the damn table and chat to him like a sane human might have. No. In my intoxicated state, I’d thought it was a good idea to climb up there and…

I closed my eyes and hugged my arms around myself.

I’d tabledanced. I’d fucking tabledanced.

That was all I remembered. And believe me, I was thankful for that. I could only imagine the cringe-inducing, porn star performance I’d put on for him. Maybe it was a blessing that I couldn’t remember it.

I threw off the covers and glanced around the room for my clothes. It didn’t take long—the room was so sparsely furnished that there was only a dresser aside from the bed and the nightstand. My clothes from the night before were neatly folded on top.

I pushed myself off the bed far too quickly and my vision swam. I bent double, waiting for the unpleasant sensation to pass. The doctors had told me to call them immediately if I felt faint, but somehow I doubted this counted. It was less to do with my head injury and more to do with the goddamn tequilas I’d thought it was a good idea to order.

When I felt semi-normal again, I padded to the dresser and picked up my clothes. I frowned. My underwear wasn’t there. I looked around again. It wasn’t lying on the floor, either. It took me a couple seconds to realize that I was still wearing my sensible black bra and panties.

Huh.

I couldn’t think about it any further because the smell hit me then. The most alluring smell I could have sensed at that moment. Bacon.

Figuring I had no way to avoid him short of trying to pry open the tiny window, I climbed inelegantly into my clothes and padded out of the room.

The bedroom led straight into a tiny living room. Past that was a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. He glanced up and I felt a pang. He looked even better than I remembered, in black boxer briefs and a tight-fitting white tee that revealed his strong muscular arms.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep blue eyes burning into me.

And in that moment, I really wished I could remember fucking him.

My stomach rumbled hungrily, reminding me that it was rude to just stand there and leer. “Morning,” I whispered, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“I figured you might be hungry,” he said, turning his focus back to the bacon with a smile.

I got the feeling it was a facial expression he didn’t use much—yet here he was smiling at me, and cooking me bacon as he did so. I took another step closer, looking around. Like the bedroom, the rest of his apartment was neat. But that was all I could say about it. There were no soft furnishings, no pictures; just the bare essentials.

“You just moved in, huh?”

He glanced up at me, fixing me to the spot with those penetrating blue eyes. My stomach lurched—how the hell could I forget fucking him? How was that even possible? Even from several feet away, one glance from him set off desires in my body that old boyfriends had only managed with actual physical touch.

He shook his head. “I travel light.”

“Oh.”

He reached over and grabbed two plates from a drying rack. “Good night?”

I froze.
Oh shit
. “Yeah it was great,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted up in amusement. “What was your favorite part?”

I closed my eyes. He wanted me to rate his performance? What kind of narcissist did that? I shrugged. “Hard to pick a favorite.”

He laughed then, deep and hearty.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded.

He shook his head as he piled the bacon on top of thick-cut slices of bread. “You don’t remember.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and deliberately. “Hey, what’s new, right?” I said, as breezily as I could.

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened,” he said neutrally.

My stomach plummeted. I don’t know why, but I felt such disappointment. “Oh. Okay.”

He threw the pan in the sink and wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from the rail of the stove. “I’m Ryan.”

“I know, I remember.”

“Also known as mean-looking mystery man.”

It took a couple seconds for his words to sink into my hungover brain. When they did, I threw my head back in embarrassment.

“I told you that?” I said, groaning.

I glanced around the room again even though there was nothing to see; anything to avoid his eyes in that moment.

“Oh, sure,” he grinned, picking up the two plates and carrying them toward me. He dropped them on the table and turned back to face me.

“Oh god.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was cute.”

You did?
I swallowed those words and went to join him on the shabby couch. I thought back. When had I told him my nickname for him?

“What other embarrassing shit did I regale you with last night?” I asked, stacking the crispy bacon between the two huge chunks of bread.

He’d just taken a huge bite of his food. “Where do I start?” he said eventually.

My eyes widened.

He shook his head and grinned. Again it seemed like that was out of character for him, but I told myself to stop overanalyzing. How the hell did I know that exactly? I’d only just met the guy.

“Hey, come on,” he said softly. “I was kidding. Your friend called when we were in the bar. It was loud. You told her where we were and that you were with me.”

I nodded, feeling momentarily relieved. And impressed—not only was he built like a fucking professional fighter, he had a sense of humor too. Then the image of me table dancing popped into my head again. “Was that before or after I decided to put on a show?”

He laughed. “Oh before. I had to get you out of there pretty fast after that. The manager wanted my balls.”

“You brought me home.”

He looked serious again. “Yeah, well. I couldn’t get any sense out of you and your friend didn’t answer when I tried calling back from your cell.”

I nodded. Probably busy getting naked with Tony back at her apartment. I felt a pang of jealousy. I wasn’t even capable of a night of no-strings sex? “So nothing happened…?”

He shook his head and put his empty plate back on the table. I had barely eaten half of my food. He obviously had a ferocious appetite. Just not for me.

“No. I brought you back here.”

“And took off my clothes.”

He bristled. “No. I showed you the room. You undressed before I’d even left.”

I cringed.

“Hey come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It sounded like you needed a blowout with all the shit that’s going on.” He gestured to my head.

I shrugged. Sure. A blowout. The reality was, it hadn’t solved anything; just delayed it. Except now I didn’t feel like shit about the assault. My brain was a weird melting pot of disappointment and fear I’d missed out on something great.

“So you really don’t remember a thing? From the attack?” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head. “No. I guess I told you. I woke up in the hospital a month later. I can’t remember a thing. I’ve tried and tried. Probably too hard. That was why I just wanted to go and get drunk and…”

“Usually people drink to forget. Not remember.”

“Do you?” I whispered, putting my plate down, half-eaten.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” I glanced around. Was this my cue to leave? Did I leave it up to him to ask for my number, or did I just ask for his? I didn’t know. I’d never encountered a guy like him, and suddenly I wanted to know more.

“If it worked, though,” he said, almost as an afterthought.

“What?”

“Nothing. I mean… You know. You’re desperate to remember. Well, there are a lot of people desperate to forget.”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

I looked up at him. He was staring at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. All of a sudden, he seemed sad. He shook his head and the moment was gone. He stood and picked up the plates from the table.

“Hey thanks for last night,” I whispered, to break the silence.

He shrugged. “That’s okay.”

I looked down at my hands. “I better… you know…”

He looked at me silently.

“Julia’ll be worried about me.”

He nodded and turned back to the kitchen. “Sure. Well, hey. Nice meeting you. Just pull back the deadbolt.”

I opened my mouth to say something else, but then stopped. It was pretty clear that was the end of us as far as he was concerned.

“Okay. Goodbye then, I guess.”