Only Trick (24 page)

When our bodies come to rest, he licks a slow path up my sweat-covered neck and whispers in my ear, “Hard enough for you?”

Chasing my breath that’s just too far gone to ever catch, I nod.

Wrapped around his body, we take the elevator up and he lays me on his bed. Somewhere between that first punishing kiss and my incredible,
hard
-earned orgasm, the pain evaporated and now I’m …
better
.

*

Confusion? Pain? Regret?
I wonder what’s going through Trick’s mind as he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me, head bowed. I sit up and press a soft kiss to his shoulder while wrapping my arms around him.

“When I was twenty I was hit by a car.”

My grip on him stiffens. I rest my cheek against his back, waiting idle for his next word.

“The trauma to my head involved some memory loss. They said it could be permanent or temporary … it feels permanent.”

Holding my breath, I remain paralyzed by his words.

“When I think about my past it’s … it’s like I can’t remember and I can’t forget. Sometimes I’m so lost I can’t find my own reality.”

Tracing my finger along the sanskrit that wraps around to his back, I blink through the tears … the raw empathy I feel for him.
Don’t look back in anger.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He lets out a small breath of a laugh. “Sketching my father playing his harmonica at the subway station. He made twenty-one dollars and fifty-two cents that night. I sold the sketch to a commuter for thirty.”

I stop my tracing motion. “But you told me about the day your parents
disappeared
.” I can’t bring myself to concede that they’re dead. “That had to be after you sketched your dad.”

“I’ve been gifted bits and pieces of my lost past from people who knew me. A pastor from an inner city church was one of those people. He visited me in the hospital every day after the accident. When I was ready to face the reality of my memory loss, he told me about the weeks I spent looking for my parents.” Trick turns and looks at me but only for a moment before he casts his eyes downward. “So sometimes I take those pieces and fill in the gaps to give myself a story … a past.”

Of course I can’t fathom what he’s really been through, but in a small way I understand what’s it’s like to take pieces of something and give it a life again. I do it every day. “Is that what happened last night? Were you giving yourself a past for my father and Rachel … for me?”

His eyes find mine again, and there they are—those million unspoken emotions. “Sort of.”

“I still don’t understand why you tried to shut me out.”

With a slight shake of his head, he sighs. “It was too much. Last night I wanted so bad to remember; I
needed
to remember, but I couldn’t. Five years of my life—gone, erased. What if I remember? What if I wasn’t a nice person? What if I did bad things?” He rests his palm against my cheek. “Will you still choose to love me?”

Placing my hand over his, I close my eyes. A world where I’m not loving Trick seems unimaginable and cruel. But since he snuck into my life and claimed my emotions, I have no idea how I would react. He’s good at keeping secrets, he owns a gun, and an hour ago I thought he was dumping me. Predicting my reaction to the shitload of unknown that happened in five missing years of a drug addict’s life is astronomically impossible.

Opening my eyes, all I can do is speak what my heart shares with his. “If you remember who you were, will you still choose to love
me
?”

He answers with a slow kiss. It may be a yes or it may be a no … or it may just be that in love and life certainty is never more than a breath away.

M
y phone alarm
screams at me, an unwelcome reminder that vampire season is here—I will go to work in the dark and come home in the dark. Leaving a naked Trick behind in bed is not an easy feat. Of course I love my job and the worthwhile feeling I get from helping others, but right now I want to help myself to a naked Trick. Indulge in the physical bliss of him inside me, possessing every single atom of my being.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself in realization that my clothes are downstairs strewn along the entry.

After padding across the floor, I cringe as the gate rattles shut, but Trick doesn’t stir. The elevator screeches to a jerky halt. I frown at the scattered buttons on the floor as I gather up my belongings.

“Fucking hell! Darby!”

I flinch with a white-knuckled grip on my wad of clothes. It’s possible he thinks I left … alone again in the dark. As the elevator ascends, I see black leather boots first, then jeans, a bared chest, clenched jaw, and finally steam seething from his nostrils. Opening the gate with caution, I press my lips together with a grimace as my stomach roils. With a hesitant step toward him, I gulp down my nerves and lift onto my toes, brushing my lips against his before depositing a small peck.

“I was just getting my clothes.”

Drawing in a breath and holding it, his gaze flicks upward as his head turns in a minute shake. “You should have woke me.”

Sidestepping past him, a sarcastic chuckle escapes me. “To ride down the elevator with me?” I pull on my leggings then steal a shirt from his dresser.

Trick turns. “Were you going to wake me before you left?”

“
Yes.
”

Maybe.

“I’m going to program the garage door code into your car and from now on you’ll park inside.”

After tying back my hair, I shove the ruins of my shirt into my handbag. “Mr. Roth, are you giving me unrestricted access to your place?” My brows peak.

Trick tugs his shirt down over his head. “I’m giving you unrestricted access to
me
. And I’m keeping you safe.”

“You think you’re my protector?” I ask while shoving my feet into my boots.

“Come,” he calls, heading to the elevator while leaving me … as always … scurrying after him.

*

Trick is an
extreme emotional roller coaster. I’ve been up and down and whipped in every direction, feeling scared, nervous, sick, and a whole lot of tummy twisting, adrenaline surging desire for more.

“Oh my God! What the hell happened to you?” Jade’s shrill startles me as I pull my scrub top over my head.

“What are you talking about?” I cock my head to the side.

“Your back.” She stares at me with cow eyes.

I walk over to the mirror and pull up my shirt, looking over my shoulder.

Crap!

I slide my shirt back down over my red welts. Ironically, they don’t hurt too badly. It’s hard to tell because I have a general soreness in most of my muscles, a few hickeys on my chest, as well as some bite marks. That’s what I get for asking to be fucked
hard
.

The “I fell,” or “I got mugged,” scenarios won’t work with Jade. She’s too smart.

“I got shoved up against an old elevator gate.” I sit on the bench and tie my shoes.

“Were you being mugged?”

I stand corrected.

“No … I wouldn’t say that.” Looking up, I wince, feeling a flush creep across my cheeks.

Her jaw plunges to the floor. “Sex? Are those marks from sex?”

My ego throws up its dukes at the incredulity in Jade’s voice. “Would that be so hard to believe?” I’m a miserable failure at keeping a straight face.

Jade laughs as I tighten my lips to hold back my own shit-eating grin. “Yes, it would be hard to believe, but you’re too honest to lie, so …”

I pull on my lab coat and adjust my badge. “So what?”

“So who’s the guy and where can I get me one?”

“He’s the squirrel.”

Jade finishes getting dressed. “A squirrel, huh?”

“No not
a
squirrel, I said
the
squirrel.”

She freezes, mid tie of her scrub pants. “I knew it! I could feel the sexual tension in the room that day. Oh my, he must be a real machine. Is he? Does he like it kinky? Oh God … I bet he does. Did he tie you up? Handcuffs? Let me see your wrists.”

“I’m not even going there, Jade.” I shake my head and walk out the door.

Yes, he’s a machine.

The sharp edge to his voice, a proverbial knife to my throat, Trick doesn’t need to use restraints … he paralyzes me with a look, ties me up with words, and controls me with his body.

*

The day starts
with such a high, but as the laws of gravity kick in I have nowhere to go but down. Around noon, I receive a text from Trick.

Trick:
Catching a flight to LA in 2 hrs. Call you later.

I start my slow deflate for the rest of the afternoon. As I walk to my car, I receive another text.

Rachel:
We need to talk. ASAP!

Lovely.

Me:
On my way home. I’ll call you later.

Rachel doesn’t respond. She’s used to working with a team of dogs following her around, tails wagging, just waiting for her to give a command. I’m not that obedient. I can already see her squinting at her phone wondering where my father went wrong with me.

I spy a black Escalade along the street in front of my house as I turn to pull in back. It would seem that Rachel just happened to already be in the city.
Stalking me.

My front door buzzes at the exact moment I walk in though my back door. I should rush to let her in; it’s starting to rain outside. Instead, I change into my workout clothes while the door continues to buzz at annoying intervals.

“Rachel.” I greet her with an innocent smile as if I just now heard the door buzz.

“Darby.” She ushers past me without an invite inside. “We need to talk.”

“So you said in your text.” I shut the door and follow her into the formal living room.

Rachel makes herself at home on the love seat, legs off to the side, crossed at the ankles, and hands folded on her lap. “I … well, Cal and I don’t want you to see Trick anymore.”

Damn!
She’s got a big-ass pair of balls under that black pencil skirt of hers.

My eyelashes flutter a bit as I smile. I’m buying time for my brain to formulate a thought-out response that doesn’t involve the words
fuck you
. “Wow, that’s a mighty big request.” I step to the couch, resting my hands on the back of it opposite her, fingers digging into the mustard fabric.