Rush (25 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

They had to stop at a store to pick up clothes and other things her mother would need now that everything she’d owned was either burned or damaged except for the things in her purse, which she’d managed to grab before fleeing the house. Lucas stood by, his hand practically hovering over his wallet. Mi nearly groaned out loud when the total popped up on the register. She handed over the credit card she’d given her mother, hoping it wouldn’t be declined. She sent up a silent prayer laced heavily with guilt. Really, couldn’t one damn thing go her way for once? Surely she’d reached some sort of cosmic limit with all of the crappy things she’d been through.

Lucas frowned at her deep sigh of relief as the register printed out the receipt. She could practically hear his brain cells sizzling in frustration. She appreciated his offer of help, she really did, but she just couldn’t take anymore from him. Her mother was her responsibility. The more involved he got with her mother, the more he’d expect to
be
involved. He’d want answers to the questions Mi so desperately
didn’t
want to answer.

They stopped by Mi’s house to pick up a few more items. Mi hadn’t been back to her house since the night she left with Lucas. She had expected it to be a mess, especially after the police had gone through it and dusted for fingerprints, but it was clean. So clean she knew in an instant a cleaning crew had been through the house.

Standing in the living room with Lucas while her mother used the bathroom, she rolled her head his direction. “You had my house
cleaned
?”

“Yeah,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug.

She put her hands over her face and would’ve sat down except all there was to sit on was his awful, jagged furniture. Which looked absolutely ridiculous in her house. Just another thing on the long list of things Lucas had done for her. She didn’t know why she was surprised he’d had her house cleaned, too. She should have expected it.

If she needed to dry her hands he was practically there holding the towel for her. If she felt the slightest twinge of hunger, he was there with a plate of food in his hands. If she could have come up with one thing she’d done for
him
she might not have been so upset. But there was nothing. Unless you counted the sex. Except there again he came out on top, giving her at least two orgasms to his one. Damn it.

“Stop doing stuff like that,” she said.

“What?”

“Cleaning my house, bringing my stuff over to your house, helping me take care of my mother, letting me live with you, feeding me all the time, protecting me, giving me more orgasms than I give you.”

A corner of his mouth bent up. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I tell you what, I’ll let you give me an orgasm as soon as we’re alone.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,
Querida
.” He leaned down and nipped her earlobe. “Very serious,” he whispered, sending an illicit chill over her skin.

“I mean it, Lucas.”

“I know.” He rubbed the sting from her ear lobe between his thumb and finger. “I like doing things for you.”

She liked it, too. “But it’s not even. You’ve done way more for me than I’ve done for you.”

“We’re keeping score?”

“Well, no. I mean, yes… sort of.”

He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in close. “Then by my score I owe you. Unless we’re talking orgasms, in that case you definitely owe me. I’ll begin collecting as soon as we get home.”

“Deal. But you’re wrong about owing me.”

“Am I? Let’s see… I now have a couch I can take a nap on without damaging vital organs. I have someone to take care of my cat. I now have a job I’m fairly good at. I don’t have to eat alone anymore. I now know there’s another type of bullet that has nothing to do with guns. I’m with someone my sister finally approves of. I have someone in my life who won’t fuck her personal trainer on the side and isn’t screwing me to get at my money. And my favorite: I’m owed about forty-seven orgasms.”

She laughed and it felt so good. “By my calculations I only owe you sixteen.”

“Fine. Look, I get that you’re independent. I’ve tried to respect that. But you can’t fault me for wanting to do nice things for you.”

“I’m not… I’m just not comfortable with how
much
you’ve done for me.”

“How about I take those sixteen orgasms and we call it even?”

She punched him in the shoulder. “Be serious.”

He chuckled and rubbed the spot. “Ouch.”

“Miyuki!” her mom yelled.

Both of their heads came up and she jumped out of his arms.

“Shit,” she muttered and headed down the hall. Halfway there, she turned. “I mean it. Cut it out with all the nice stuff for a while.”

“All right,” he grumbled. “But as soon as those sixteen orgasms are paid up the moratorium is off.”

Insufferable man, she mumbled to herself as she headed down the hall to see her mother. But damn he could make her laugh and sigh in ecstasy better than any man she’d ever known. She shouldn’t think about tomorrow. She shouldn’t think past the sixteen orgasms she owed him. Oh, how she wanted to though.

She didn’t find her mom in the bathroom. “Mom?” She looked in her room, then the spare bedroom. She finally found Faye hunched down on the floor next to the bassinet, rocking back and forth. “Mom,” she whispered, kneeling down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Ethan.” She grabbed the front of Mi’s shirt, pulling Mi toward her. “You did something to him,” Faye spat, twisting Mi’s shirt in her fist, drawing her off balance. Her blue eyes, dark with anxiety, gave her an almost feral look.

Oh, God. “He’s okay. I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Then the devil has him. I know it.” She jerked on Mi’s shirt. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not, Mom. I swear. He’s okay. Nobody’s got him.”

Mi should have expected it, but Faye was too quick. The crack to the cheek sent Mi against the wall. Her head hit hard and she slid to the floor. Then her mom was on her, pinning Mi’s arms down with her legs.

“You were always a terrible liar,” Faye spat, wrapping her hands around Mi’s throat. “It’s your fault. All of it’s your fault.”

Mi kicked, trying to buck her mother off, but Faye was bigger, stronger.

“You killed Ronin!” her mother yelled, digging her fingers into her daughter’s neck. “I hate you! I hate you!”

In the next instant Mi was freed. She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, gasping and choking. Lucas bent down to her, holding a kicking and screaming Faye around the middle with one arm.

“Mi! Holy shit. Are you all right?” He turned her toward him, his gaze locked on the marks on her throat. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m calling an ambulance.”

She grabbed a hold of his pant leg. “No,” she croaked out.

He wrestled Faye to the ground, placing a knee on her back, holding both of her hands in his in a tight grip. “She tried to kill you.”

Mi rose up on her elbow, fingering her sore neck. “No ambulance,” she wheezed.

“She needs to be locked up, Mi. She tried to
kill
you, for fuck’s sake. I don’t care if she is your mother, she belongs in jail.”

Panic flooded back into Mi’s system, making it harder to breath. Specks floated before her eyes. “No!” she managed. “No police. No.” She wrapped her arms around his leg, holding on for all she was worth. “Promise me. No.”

“
Querida
,” he moaned. “Don’t ask this. You’re hurt. She
hurt
you.”

“I’m fine.” She used his leg to haul herself up to a sitting position and leaned against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

He pulled out his cell phone and began dialing.

“No!” She batted it out of his hand. “No police, Lucas. I swear to God if you call the police we are over.” She drew back, breathing hard, meaning every word she said. He had no idea what was at stake. She hadn’t worked so goddamned hard the last thirteen years to let him fuck it up now. “No police.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t know her, couldn’t believe what she’d become. Her words seemed to freeze him. Behind his stare she could see him weighing the truth of her threat. She held her breath ready to back up her words with action. Mi’s gaze cut to her mom, who quietly sobbed into the carpet her eyes pinched shut.

Oh, God. Mi made a move to crawl to her mother, but Lucas put a hand up, stopping her.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he snarled.

Mi sat back, and their face-off continued. Dark eyes bored into hers. A sob hiccupped in her throat as the enormity of what had just happened came crashing down around her in big flaming chunks. Her mother had tried to kill her. Jesus. Fuck. She thunked her head against the wall once, twice, trying to dislodge the memory of her mother’s face above hers, murder in her eyes.

“Stop that,” he commanded.

“She tried to kill me,” Mi whispered, the words torn from deep inside her. She covered her face with her hands and broke down, drawing her legs up tight. “She ac-ca-cused me of k-k-killing my dad.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, sitting down hard on the floor.

Mi pulled her hands away from her face and glared at her mother. “Why, Mom? Why? Why did you do that? Why do you hate me so much?” Her tears flowed freely, hot and full of shame. “What did I do wrong? What did I ever do?”

Faye stared back from her place on the floor, her gaze empty and searching. Lucas hauled Faye up and marched her out into the hall, leaving Mi’s words ringing hollowly in the empty room.

Mi dropped her head onto her knees. It was all so fucked up. Lucas, her mom, her brother, all of the people who mattered. She had nothing and no one. She was alone with her secret.

“
Querida
.” He picked her up and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding against her cheek. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do for you.”

She clutched the front of his shirt, bringing his face down to hers. “No police. Promise me.”

“Why? You have to tell me why.”

“Don’t make me chose.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She pounded a fist ineffectually against his chest. “Promise me.”

“Mi—” he began to protest, but stopped when he saw the fierce look on her face. She’d left him no choice. He nodded, his face set in rigid lines. “I promise.”

She sagged against him. “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his hard-set lips. “Thank you.”

He set her away from him. “She ever lays a fucking hand on you again—” He let the threat hang in the air between them unsaid, but it was as real as if he’d written it in blood. His gaze dropped to her neck where he lightly traced the marks her mother’s hands had made. The space between his brows creased in a deep frown, his jaw ticking from being clenched so tightly.

“Where is she?”

He glanced up, surprised. “I locked her in the closet. Why?”

“
What?
” She tried to scramble off his lap, but he held her fast.

“Stop it.”

“I need to see her.”

“Hell, no.” He held her tighter, burrowing his face in her shoulder.

“I have to see if she’s okay.”

“She’s fine. Give it a minute.”

She realized he was trembling. This big man who had seen battle, quaked as badly as she did. She held onto him, burning with a mixture of shame and regret. Shame for what he’d seen and regret for not being able to choose him above all else.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse. It wasn’t enough. She could apologize a thousand times and it would never erase what had happened in this room. It would never be enough. He should run, just go as far as and fast away from her as he could. “Oh, Lucas. I’m so sorry. You deserve better. I can’t be what you need. What you deserve.”

“Shut up.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have tried to do this. I just wanted you so much. Even knowing it would end. I don’t have any regrets. I hope… please don’t hate me. Please know how much I…”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

Leaning her back over his arm, he kissed her, sealing her words away. He was rough, kissing her as though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance again. She absorbed his heat, his anger, his fear and frustration, wishing it all away. He held the back of her head in his hand, fastening her to him. The other hand crept under her shirt and splayed across her back. She moaned into his mouth, aroused despite the circumstances, but that didn’t seem to please him.

He pulled his hand out, parking it on her hip, and broke the kiss. “Damn it.” He looked down at her and all she saw was sadness, his dark eyes shining like slick black pools.

“I’m sorry,” she said

“Stop saying that.”

“But I am.”

“When we get home—”

“Nothing’s going to change,” she broke in.

“—we’re going to sit down and figure this out.”

“It’s not your problem,” she insisted.

He stood up and set her back down on the bed. Fisting his hands in his hair, he paced away, then back again. He stopped and pointed a finger at her. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Do you hear me?”

“But it’s true.”

“The fuck it is.”

“Lucas, stop. You can’t fix this.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. “And you can? How’s your way working so far? Your
fix
almost got you killed.”

Sucking in a breath, she flinched as if he’d hit her. “Screw you.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Do you know what seeing her on top of you, her hands wrapped around your throat, did to me? Do you?”

“I don’t care.”

“It fucking scared the shit out of me.” He gave her a little shake. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Why not? What do you care? What does anybody care? My own mother hates me.”

“Why do I care?”

She tried to break free from his hold. “Just forget it.”

He let her go. “Damn it, Mi. Don’t you get it?”

“I said forget it.”

He brought her face around to his, made her look him in the eye. “I more than care,
Querida
.”