Stripping Her Defenses (10 page)

“I thought that was it. I thought, after going on that stage and being booed off by drunken assholes who got pissed because she stood there as still as a fucking statue, shakin’ out of fear, that she’d be done, totally over the stage. Only she wasn’t. Three days later, she came in, apologized, and asked me for one more chance.

“Everyone thought I was out of my mind when I gave her that chance, but they didn’t see what I saw. I looked into her eyes and saw determination. Fierce kind of shit. The type of drive that told me, without saying the words, she thought this was one of the most important things she’d ever do. I didn’t get why a chick would be so damn hung up on getting naked on the stage, but my gut told me she needed this, so I gave it to her.”

Ice smirked at me, although it wasn’t a cocky smirk. It was more of a small smile filled with a fondness I wished he didn’t have for my wife. “Damn, was I ever glad I gave her a second chance. Was she perfect? Fuck no. But she got up on that stage, and after a minute or so of getting comfortable dancing to the music, I saw something I’m not sure I’ll ever see again in my lifetime. I saw a woman coming into her own, out of a debilitating shell. It was more than having an epiphany. You could tell when she came off that stage, all warm, genuine smiles and sparkling eyes, that she had found something most people spend their entire lives looking for and never truly achieve. Freedom. Down to the bottom of her soul, fucking freedom, man.

“Whatever ghosts she had walking into my club, whatever emotional chains that had held her down, were finally gone. She was free from whatever inner torture she’d been going through and ready to move on with her life. And move on she did.”

I balled my fists on top of my thighs. I wasn’t ready to hear about Kara moving on. I didn’t want her to move on; I wanted her back by my side. Hopefully, he wasn’t about to wax poetic about having a relationship with my wife, because if he tried, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t reach over and snap his fucking neck.

“Calm your shit down, man. Hear me out. I like having this conversation with you about as much as you want to have it with me. Anyways, she started moving on with her life, laughing more, making friends, going out with some of the girls on her time off. She worked my stage for four years. And in that time, she became an essential piece to this club. Not because the customers loved her, but because she became a sort of den mother, helping the girls, helping the boys running the club, and helping me in this office.

“She also spent her spare time going back to school for photography classes to pursue her dreams. Now, I told you all of that shit so I could tell you this next shit. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and after what I’ve had with Kara, I don’t want to fuckin’ know. What you need to know is, if you do anything to dim that light shining from her eyes, to fuckin’ break her into the fragile little doll that walked through my doors lookin’ for a waitressing job, I will end you. They’ll never find your body, but most importantly, they’ll never know it was me who made you disappear. You understand what I’m saying?”

Damn. Getting lectured about the woman who meant more to me than my own breath—yeah, it burned. It took everything I had not to reach over and punch him in the face for trying to put me in my place and insinuating about his intimacy with Kara. I restrained myself for one reason, though. He’d been here for her when I couldn’t. He’d been there for her in ways she needed. He’d done for six years what I hadn’t been able to do in the last couple years of our marriage.

Damn, didn’t that realization suck?

No matter how much it burned my ass, I had to walk out of this room, leaving this man intact, because he’d taken care of Kara when I’d only contributed to her breakdown. As a result, I was going to take his shit. I was going to accept it and swallow it like that giant goddamn emotional horse pill it felt like, practically choking me, hoping I walked away a better man because I’d done so.

With nothing left to do other than swallow my pride, I nodded my head in his direction. “I appreciate what you did for Kara, looking out for her like that. I’m not going to explain our shit, but I will tell you that I’d rather eat a bullet before I ever hurt her again. She may not be what I was looking for when I came here, but she’s exactly what I needed to find, if you know what I mean.”

Ice nodded in understanding. “Good enough. Now let’s get the fuck out of this room before we both grow vaginas and start crying or some shit.”

And with that abrupt change of subject, the gruff battle-hardened warrior that was the Regulators’ President got up and walked out the room, expecting me to follow him.

I did, but not because I felt obligated to do so. No, I followed him out because he was leading me back to the one person I’d follow anywhere in the world.

Kara.

Chapter

10

Kara

I’m a coward.

That was easy to admit after what I’d pulled on Riley last night.

I knew he’d been expecting for us to talk after my show, yet I had run out of that club like my life had depended on it as soon as I’d left the stage. I knew Coal, the Regulators’ Vice President, had been extremely disappointed I hadn’t stayed and made some rounds on the floor. I get business is business—I was there to do a job, getting paid damn good money for it—but I couldn’t stay and face Riley yet. When Coal had seen me start to cry, he had immediately asked if there was someone he needed to put to ground.

That had only caused me to cry harder.

I’d never want Riley to face more of that after the showdown with Ice and Hammer in the back. I’d quietly told Coal there wasn’t a need for that; I simply couldn’t stay for the rest of the night.

Coal was a gruff, quiet, all action and no talk, kind of man. In fact, him asking me if he needed to put someone in the ground was probably the most I’d ever heard him speak. Although I knew he was trying to comfort me in his own way, the comment had been more than disturbing. Under that gruff exterior lay a good man. He’d always been nice to the girls here at the club, and I was aware he probably would have taken someone out in a heartbeat if I’d told him someone had hurt me.

Riley might have hurt me during our marriage, but I’d hurt him far worse during and after it. The guilt of that truth was why I couldn’t face him last night. I needed a little time to get myself together, figure out what I would say and how to apologize. However, more than that, I needed to figure out how to tell the man I loved that he needed to give up whatever notions he had about us working out and then walk away.

I was certain some women would call me crazy for trying to push Riley away. After all, who wouldn’t want a man like Riley solely dedicated to them? A man who loved a woman so much his hands trembled when he saw her. Who would break down a door and face down armed men for the chance to speak with her.

Once upon a time, I had that man. The problem was, my fairy tale had turned into a nightmare, and a good portion of the reason why was my fault. Dayona, my psychiatrist for the last seven and a half years, would tell me for the hundredth time that I was being too hard on myself. That I shouldn’t try to shoulder the blame for something I hadn’t known about or could possibly have comprehended at the time. I tried my best to listen to her when she told me not to carry the blame and guilt I felt, although it was hard to do. If only I had truly understood what had been going on with me then as I do now. Perhaps I could have gotten some help after I lost the baby and salvaged my marriage before it had been too late. But between my anger at Riley, my grief over losing my son, and my hormones being all over the place, I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to get professional help after getting out of the hospital.

Depression is a bitch like that.

Depression doesn’t care if it sends you spiraling into uncontrollable moods with irrational thoughts that made it hard for others to deal with you. Depression with added abandonment and daddy issues was a double dose of a psychological nightmare. However, depression with an extra side of ‘perfectionism disorder’ on top of abandonment and daddy issues proved to be the perfect combination for the slow, tragic death of my marriage.

During my marriage, I’d blamed all of our problems on Riley and his desperation to put distance between us by volunteering for missions in addition to his mandatory ones. Now, I understood that, while Riley taking off all the time hadn’t helped our problems, his habit of taking off hadn’t been the real problem.

I had been the problem.

Apparently, I’d been suffering from moderate bouts of depression that slowly, but surely, had sucked the life right out of me. I had been a robot moving from one day to the next; gradually drowning under emotions I hadn’t understood. The uncertainty in myself and my life had exacerbated my underlying issues about my father abandoning my mother and me. Paranoia over Riley leaving me had begun to skew my thoughts on how I could keep him home and happy with me.

If only I’d realized those crazy June Cleaver ideals of mine had pushed him away instead of pulling him to me. If only I’d realized something was off about my moods and thoughts, then I could have gotten some help for the perfectionism disorder combined with my depression. If only I hadn’t lost our son, I wouldn’t have spiraled into a serious depression that caused me to make irrational decisions, such as leaving my husband.

Sometimes, I felt as if the ‘if only’s’ of my life would be the death of me.

Dayona said I can’t focus on my past mistakes, though. I had to forgive myself and move forward. I did my best on the moving forward thing, even if I was still working on the forgiveness part.

My psychiatrist also told me that it was okay to be mad at Riley for leaving me so often. Although I feel more guilt when it came to Riley, than anger. At times, the animosity did rear its ugly head. I might have had my problems, but I had needed my husband. I had needed the man who had vowed through sickness and health to stand by me.

Dayona liked to point out that perhaps, if Riley had known about my depression and perfectionism disorder, he would have stood by me. The bitter piece of Kara buried deep in my memories wasn’t so convinced she was right.

All in all, seeing Riley had brought back up all of my regrets and resentment. Last night, I couldn’t handle that. Today, as I sat here at my kitchen table, nursing my first cup of coffee, I was determined to find the words to heal the wounds I’d caused and send him on his way.

I’d just taken another sip of my coffee when there was a loud banging knock against my door. Cautiously moving towards my apartment door, I grabbed the baseball bat I kept by the entrance for safety and then looked out the peephole to see who it was. My breath caught in my chest as I took in the frown on my visitor’s face while he waited for me to answer. Taking my eye away from the small glass opening, I laid my forehead against the cool wood of my door and silently cursed.

It could be worse.

But it was still really damn bad.

Another round of loud thumps rattled my door, startling me, and then Declan’s loud voice shouted through.

“I know you’re in there, Kara. Answer the damn door.”

There was a time I had looked forward to hearing my former brother-in-law’s voice. He was a great storyteller and had told the best jokes as we had all sat around his Grandpa Pat’s kitchen table for family dinners. This time, his voice didn’t sound so friendly.

His fist hit my door again, this time so hard I was amazed he hadn’t broken it down. “Dammit, Kara! This is complete bullshit, and you know it. Open this fucking door!”

I stood there, debating my options. I could sit here and ignore him. He’d have to go away eventually. Or I could open that door and start the process of facing my past.

To be honest, I didn’t want to talk to Declan. He was no longer my brother-in-law, and while I did feel remorse for skipping out on not just Riley, but the rest of the Sullivan family, I didn’t feel obligated to explain myself to Declan. Riley deserved an explanation, so Riley would get one.

I squared my shoulders, preparing myself for the famous Irish Sullivan temper because I wasn’t going to answer that door, when fate handed me a giant kick in the ass.

Old Mrs. McGillicutty.

“Young man, if you don’t stop raising a ruckus, I’m going to call the police on you! Obviously that young lady isn’t home or doesn’t want to talk to you, so take your derriere out of here.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, that old woman was at it again. Old Mrs. McGillicutty had to be pushing eighty, yet that didn’t stop her from butting in to everyone’s problems. So far, I’d managed to avoid her motherly nagging because I led a quiet life. The other neighbors around us, though? Not so lucky. I’d seen her giving one of our other neighbors, Brent, a hard time for not holding the door open for his girlfriend. She’d lectured him for forty-five minutes on how men these days didn’t have any manners or knew how to be a gentleman. Poor Brent had opened the door for his girlfriend every day since.

Declan would never know what hit him when it came to Mrs. McGillicutty.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry if I disturbed you this morning,” Declan apologized sincerely.

“Posh, young man. I don’t want to hear your excuses; I want to hear your footsteps as you leave. Go on now, get going. If you don’t go, I’m sorry to have to say that I’ll have to make you leave.”

Oh boy. This wasn’t good.

Mrs. McGillicutty was about to break out her black belt Tae Kwon Do. Literally.

The old woman had bragged for six months straight after earning her black belt down at the seniors’ community center. Now, she acted like a vigilante from time to time, threatening to beat up anyone who didn’t pick up their dog’s poop from the apartment’s grassy areas or anyone who had the nerve to litter in the parking lot.

Looking up to the ceiling, I asked whoever was up there for a freakin’ break. First Riley last night and now this. Could it get any worse?

Walking back the couple of steps towards the front door, I could picture Declan’s incredulous face as he processed the old woman’s threat. Declan had been a
seal
with his brother, and it wasn’t everyday a battle trained
seal
was threatened by someone who could be their grandmother.