Wicked Angel Page 9

  She responded, Good answer. See you tonight.

  Yes, she would. I’m thinking we are long overdue for a little bit of exhibitionism. While everything we’ve done lately at the club has been outside of the private rooms in The Apartments, I was thinking of a bigger display. Maybe one of the new sex machines Jerico put in at The Silo. Or maybe I’ll get her off with my hand in the Social Room. Sex is not off-limits there, but it usually doesn’t happen. It would guarantee many eyes would be on us. I can certainly say it appeals to my ego, having everyone watch and knowing Elena is mine… if only for a moment.

  Two vaguely familiar doctors walk into the lounge. Orthopedics, I think. A man and a woman who are chattering away.

  Based on purely a glance, I can tell by the expressions on their faces that my reputation of being an asshole precedes me. They try to avoid eye contact, but not before I give them an engaging smile. They blink, jaws dropping slightly, before hastily turning away.

  I snicker, getting a little bit of amusement over how discombobulating a smile can be.

  The two doctors grab their food out of the refrigerator, then move clear across the room to sit away from me. The lounge is still small enough I can clearly hear them as they start talking.

  I continue to scroll through my phone and eavesdrop, because I’ve got nothing better to do. I need to push my thoughts of Elena aside, otherwise I’ll be walking through the hospital corridors with a hard-on.

  The male doctor launches into a complaint I only half pay attention to. It has to do with his ex-wife.

  Whatever.

  “I had it all planned out,” he tells the female doctor. “I was going to take him fishing. I requested this weekend off eons ago, and she agreed to it. And now she’s saying I can’t have him because it’s not my normal weekend.”

  So much drama. Rolling my eyes, I turn over to the weather app to look at the forecast for the next few days. I was thinking about getting my boat out of storage to take it out on the lake. Maybe I’ll even invite Elena.

  “I’m so sorry,” the female doctor says in commiseration. “Of all the weekends she would do this to you.”

  “Right?” the male doctor demands. “Father’s Day should inherently go to me, don’t you think?”

  My entire body locks tight, and I look over at the doctors. Father’s Day?

  I didn’t know that. Had no reason to. I don’t pay attention to holidays these days. I only look at my surgical schedule, my patient schedule, and that’s it.

  Father’s Day.

  I’d only celebrated five with Cassidy. Last year, I’d still been immersed in closing myself off from the world, doing outpatient rehab, and working insane hours. I hadn’t even known what had happened. Looking back, I’m quite sure most people made sure to stay clear of me, making sure not to mention it.

  If these two fuckers hadn’t walked in, I probably would have been oblivious about it this weekend, too.

  I’m not prepared for the overwhelming sadness sweeping through me. I’ve managed to put Cassidy out of my mind for the most part, and I’m not quite prepared to handle the resurgence of her memory. The mere thought of what I will never have with her again is crushing. I had moved her and April into my “past life,” where I keep them securely tucked away and treasure them from afar. I’ve had to accept I had five amazing years with Cassidy and nine with April, but that time is over now.

  It’s fucking over, and I’ll never feel Cassidy put her hands on my face and whisper, “I love you, Daddy, to the moon and back,” or have her crawl in bed with me and April on a Saturday morning to cuddle and watch cartoons, or ask me to fix her little scrapes with Band-Aids because I’m a doctor and Mommy isn’t, and—

  The pain hits me like a burning fire through every molecule of my body. Worse than I ever felt when my mom first told me April and Cassidy had died. At least back then, I was under the heavy influence of narcotic drugs to dull my physical pain. It had made it a little bit easier to cope with the devastating news.

  But now, this pain is oppressive, and I feel like I’m drowning. It’s even worse than how I felt when the judge convicted Pettigrew and sent him to prison for killing my family. He hadn’t shown a shred of remorse. I’d wanted to kill him, but I couldn’t. It had hurt so bad I’d never wanted to feel pain like that again.

  But right now? Thinking about Father’s Day, how I’m all alone, and how Cassidy is dead makes me feel like I might be dying right now. The pain is that devastating.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I push up quickly from the table. The plastic chair I’d been sitting in flips backward. The other two doctors look concerned, but they don’t say a word.

  I stumble past the table, then out of the lounge. I don’t even know where I’m going. Walking like a drunk, I careen off walls. Suddenly, I realize I left my cane back in the lounge.

  Fuck it.

  There’s a men’s bathroom up ahead. I push through the door, stumbling toward the sink. After I turn the cold water on, I throw handfuls of it into my face, realizing I’m gasping for breath.

  Panicking.

  I don’t how to deal with this pain.

  “Goddamn it,” I roar as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. A crazy man glares back. “Get a fucking grip, Benjamin.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I take several deep breaths. I will myself to move past the panicky feeling of losing everything that is important in my life again.

  Why is this happening? Why now?

  I suck in another deep breath, holding it deep in my lungs until my eyes start to water from the effort, then I let it back out slowly. When I force myself to look at my reflection again, the answer is clear.

  This is happening because of Elena. She had opened me up.

  Made me reach for possibilities.

  She’d burrowed her way into my life, and I’d thought she might be an angel sent to rescue me.

  A mirthless laugh erupts from within me. I give myself a chastising head shake in the mirror.

  “She’s no angel,” I tell myself. “Because there is no God.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Elena

  I can’t tell if I’m worried about Benjamin or pissed at him. We were supposed to meet up at The Wicked Horse night before last, but he hadn’t shown up.

  Hadn’t called.

  Hadn’t texted.

  Of course I reached out to him. I felt like an idiot, waiting at the bar in The Social Room for him, fending off other men’s advances while I sipped on a glass of wine. I texted him and when he hadn’t responded, I’d called. I’d gotten his voice mail.

  Benjamin is a punctual man, so when he’d been twenty minutes late with no word from him, I’d known he wasn’t coming. I didn’t even finish my wine—just threw a five-dollar tip on the bar top and left. It never occurred to me to stay and enjoy myself with someone else, because Benjamin and I had agreed to be exclusive. At that point, I was more worried than anything.

  Of course I thought the worst. Car accident, mugging, or brain aneurysm. For all I knew, he could be dead somewhere and I wouldn’t even know what happened. We weren’t close enough I could just jump in my car and drive to his house to check on him. I had no clue where he lived.

  So I went home, had another glass of wine, and went to bed. I’d slept horribly all night, tossing and turning as I wondered what happened to Benjamin.

  My worry on Friday gave way to anger on Saturday. I had to work all day, and I stewed over how he could so rudely stand me up. Based on the nature of the things we’d done together, he at least owed me a simple, “It’s been fun, Elena, but it’s time to move on.” Without those words, he’d left me in a state of worry. And it pissed me off even more. By Sunday morning, I was back to worrying. When I really thought about it, him just breaking it off made no sense. Sometimes, I’m not the best judge of character when it comes to men, but I hadn’t imagined there was something deeper between us. It was something I have never felt with another man. Call it chemistry or primal attraction, but
it was something so unique I can’t just dismiss it.

  I put on the finishing touches to my makeup—some pressed powder and lip gloss—and smooth my dress down. I’m practically on my way out the door to meet my parents for church, but I still have a few minutes I could spare.

  Nabbing my phone, I call Jorie, because it’s time to employ my bestie for what she does best—giving solid advice.

  “What’s up?” she answers on the second ring. She and Walsh don’t go to church, so I feel slightly guilty I might be messing with a lazy Sunday morning for them.

  “I need your help,” I say as I move through my house, turning off lights and the TV. “Well, Walsh’s to be more accurate.”

  “Walsh’s?” she asks in surprise.

  Guilt flushes through me, and I know it’s time to fess up. “You know the guy I’ve been seeing?”

  “Hot-wax dude,” she replies knowingly.

  “Yeah, well… his name is Benjamin. You can call him that now instead of ‘hot-wax dude’. But anyway, he’s the one who was at your birthday party.”

  “I’m confused.” And I knew this would take some explaining, but I try to let her work out as much as she can. “I thought you met him at The Wicked Horse.”

  “I did, but he was coincidentally at your party.”

  “And you didn’t bother to tell me this why?” she demands hotly, although I know she’s not angry. Just a little miffed I’ve withheld.

  Sighing, I hold my phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can take stock of the contents of my purse to make sure I don’t need anything else. “I’m sorry. I just sort of wanted to keep him to myself for a while. He’s a little mysterious, intense, and, well, different from anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “You could have told me,” she sniffs.

  “I’m telling you now. I need your help because I’m worried. He sort of went off the grid. Stood me up Friday night, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “And you’ve tried to call him?”

  I roll my eyes, knowing she can’t see it, so I make sure she hears it in my tone. “Of course I called him. A few times. Texted, too, but he hasn’t responded. I was wondering if Walsh has any insight he can offer. I have no clue how close their friendship is, but I thought maybe fairly close since he was at your party. I’m operating in the dark here, and I just can’t let it go.”

  “Elena,” Jorie says softly, dropping her voice an octave. “Are you sure you haven’t been dumped in a fantastically assholish manner?”

  That’s a legit concern. As my bestie, I’d expect her to consider these things and make sure I am, too. “Ordinarily, I’d say yes. But, in this instance, my gut is saying it’s something else. I just need to know.”

  “Okay, then.” Her tone is decisive, and she’s fully in. “Let me go get him.”

  It’s silent for a few moments. I use the time to grab my keys and head for the door.

  I’m just locking it closed behind me when she comes back on. “I’ve got Walsh on speakerphone. I’ve filled him in a bit.”

  “So you’re dating Benjamin Hewitt, huh?” Walsh says, and I don’t like the tone of his voice. I thought he’d tease me first, but he sounds worried.

  “I’m not sure dating is the word,” I reply hesitantly. “It’s sort of a Wicked Horse kind of thing, but there was a real connection there. I’m worried because he just sort of dropped off the face of the earth. I’m hoping you can give me some insight.”

  “You know about the accident, right?” Walsh asks.

  My brow furrows at this odd question. “The one that injured his leg?”

  “It was a bit more than that,” he says in a sad voice, and my stomach clenches. “His wife and daughter were killed. He was seriously injured. Spent a really long time in the hospital.”

  “What?” I rasp, feeling incredibly dizzy by this revelation. I had no clue, and I feel like reality slapped me with a cold, wet washcloth or something.

  “A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit their car head-on.”

  “He had a wife and daughter?” I murmur, voice barely audible.

  “It fucked him up in the head. I mean, he’s no longer the guy I used to know. Frankly, had I known you were seeing him, I would have discouraged it.”

  There’s censure in his tone. I imagine he’s giving Jorie the side-eye right now for keeping this secret, but he has no clue she didn’t know. I’ll fix that later.

  Walsh isn’t finished making his point. “He’s not a nice guy, Elena. Can’t say we were the best of friends before his accident, but we hung out. Golfed together a lot. Some poker nights. He came out of that accident completely changed. Closed himself off from everyone.”

  The information is overwhelming, but it doesn’t discourage me. If anything, I feel more of a pressing need to make sure he’s okay. “Do you know where he lives?”

  His tone is apologetic. “I don’t.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply glumly as I move to my car.

  “What are you going to do?” Jorie asks, her question laced with equal amounts of curiosity and worry. She knows me well enough to know I’m not going to do nothing.

  “Call him again after church,” I reply on a sigh. “Probably head to The Wicked Horse tonight to see if he shows up.”

  “Just be careful,” Walsh advises.

  “Wait!” Jorie exclaims with mild panic. “Is this guy dangerous or something? If so, you cannot go to The Wicked Horse to see him. Stupid idea. You probably need to let this go.”

  I can hear Walsh chuckling, and I imagine his arm going around Jorie. “Ease up there, mama bear. I don’t mean for Elena to be careful because Benjamin is dangerous or anything. I just mean he’s got a lot of baggage. Does she really want to get caught up in all that?”

  The answer is a resounding “no.” I don’t want to be caught up in that. It’s the story of my life with men. I end up taking care of them, helping to figure out a way to battle their demons. I’m done being the fixer of broken men, and yet… I can’t lie… I’m still pulled toward this man.

  I wish I could put my finger on what this is. Why am I feeling such a strong pull to someone who just spells bad news all the way around?

  The most I can do is try to reassure Jorie and Walsh. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I just really want to make sure he’s okay.”

  And once I discern whether he is, I’ll need some validation I wasn’t misreading the connection I thought we had. It’s fine if he wants to call it quits because he’s not emotionally ready, but I need to know I haven’t been imagining things.

  CHAPTER 15

  Benjamin

  It’s Father’s Day, and there’s nowhere for me to hide.

  I started the day off by taking my boat out to the lake. It was swarming with families—kids everywhere—and I realized it was a horrible mistake right away. I never even bothered to put my boat in the water.

  After I left there, I decided to go hiking, figuring I might get lucky enough for a rattlesnake to bite me—maybe put me out of my misery. I’d never noticed it before, but hiking was apparently a fun and popular family event. Again, more reminders of what I no longer have, so I hadn’t even bothered to get out of my car.

  I’d driven off, then ended up at some strip club. So I sit here drinking as I watch the women dance. It does nothing to take my mind off my daughter. Copious amounts of alcohol, undulating tits, and shaking asses as far as the eye can see, and all I can think about is how terrified Cassidy must’ve been at the moment of impact. She wasn’t killed right away the way April mercifully was. Cassidy had suffered before she died. It’s unbearable to think about, and I need something different to occupy my mind.

  I’m stinking drunk when I leave, but all I’ve lost still swarms through my mind. Regardless, the one thing I will never, ever do is drink and drive, so I ditch my car at the strip club and take an Uber to The Wicked Horse.

  I park my ass on a barstool in The Silo, which is usually where the kinkiest shit happens. N
o one here sparks a desire in me, though. Nothing I’ve seen has inspired me at all. Not even managed to get a tiny thump from my dick.

  At least I’m not thinking about Cassidy… much. I suspect it’s the combination of my inebriation, along with the wide array of sex acts going on all around me that is keeping my mind occupied.

  A large hand comes down on my shoulder and I turn to see Jerico Jameson, the owner of The Wicked Horse, seating himself on a stool to my right. I lift my chin in acknowledgment before swiveling to hunch protectively over my drink, hoping my body language indicates I’m not in the mood to be social.

  “If you’re looking for Elena, she doesn’t come in on Sundays. She spends it with her family,” Jerico says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I tip my head his way again, slightly surprised he would bring her up.

  “You seem to know an awful lot about your customers,” I observe, noting my slurred speech since it gives away the extent of my inebriation. It’s the first time I’ve spoken to anyone tonight other than to order a drink from the bartender.

  Jerico shrugs. “Not all of them. But Elena’s special.”

  There is no stopping the glare I shoot his way. His tone was way too intimate when he speaks her name, and I don’t like it.

  Jerico laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I only meant she’s best friends with the wife of one of my former customers who still remains a good friend of mine.”

  “Walsh Brooks,” I mutter in acknowledgment.

  Jerico nods and motions to the bartender, holding up two fingers and then pointing at himself and then me. He turns my way. “You know him?”

  “We used to golf together,” I say curtly as I drain my drink in preparation for the one Jerico just ordered for me. “Anyway, I’m not here looking for Elena. It didn’t work out between us.”

  Just uttering those words causes a wave of longing to hit me. I may have cut her out of my life, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still want her.