The Protector 2

Chapter One-8

Still upset, but with a firm determination, I step into the house. I look around the living room, but can’t see Raven anywhere. Rita gives me an expectant look. Mac is fiddling with the laptop, Gunner is doing his push-ups. These people are my friends, and they risk their life in this job the same way as I do. It’s not fair that I keep information from them regarding an issue that affects our work so obviously. I go into the kitchen and take out a bottle of mineral water. I drink up half of it, and throw myself into an armchair. I clear my throat, and with agony, dig my fingers into my hair.

“The thing is, Raven and I… we knew each other from before.”

“You don’t say?” comes the cynical answer from Mac, and I quickly look at him. The guy is falling for Raven, which doesn’t surprise me at all, but I clearly won’t smash his face in for that. At least, not just yet.

“Well, f**k me! And I thought you carried every female client of yours thrown over your shoulder, into her bedroom,” Gunner adds rolling his eyes, because by now he has finished his routine, and has sat down next to Rita on the sofa. His woman nudges his shoulder, and he goes quiet.

I close my eyes, and make a point not to react to the teasing. My self-control has reached rock bottom, but I can’t afford to let my animal nature take the better of me.

“She hates me like s**t, and has every reason for it.”

“Did the school romance end in a lousy way?” Rita asks twisting a lock of hair between her fingers.

“Something like that,” I shrug my shoulders unwillingly. “But I will clear it with her now,” I nod, pointing towards the upper floor with my chin. “I’ll talk to her.”

“You’ll talk to her? You mean… you’ll talk it over?” Gunner raises his eyebrows a few times ambiguously, referring to the non-verbal aspect of our communication.

“Don’t be such a prick, man!” Mac interrupts.

“I mean, we will talk about it,” I look at him with narrowed eyes. He laughs out, and raises his hands. “Do whatever you need to do, boss!”

I consider the topic exhausted. I stand up and start walking up the stairs, to Raven’s room.

I’ve learned something since the last incident. Before I press the doorhandle, I knock. What’s more, I don’t even walk in after that, but wait for an answer, which doesn’t come at once. I knock again, now with a bit less patience, at which Raven says come in, with irritation. I open the door, and my eyes immediately fall on her. She is sitting against the backrest, her knees pulled up, with a book in her hands. Not that she’s reading, because I can immediately tell from the cover that the book is upside down in her hands.

“Can I come in?” I ask uncertainly, but instead of a response, she rolls her eyes, and her gaze wanders back to the page of the book in her lap.

I enter the room, and rubbing the nape of my neck, I stop in front of her bed. Raven ignores me.

“We must talk,” I blurt out at last.

“There’s no need,” she answers without looking at me.

“Yes, there is. And at once.”

“There is no need to explain things, Rafe. You are who you are. I’ve come to terms with that. That’s all.”

My lungs are burning, and my throat tightens as I heave a deep sigh. That one hit home.

“I’ve been acting like a jerk. Forgive me,” I continue, and Raven slowly lifts her eyes on me. “That was because you scared me. It freaked me out that you might get harmed. I’m sorry.”

She slowly nods, but doesn’t say anything. She obviously doesn’t want to make things easier for me, but since I’m not backing down, but I’m still standing in front of her with my hands in my pockets, she finally speaks up.

“That’s all right. Now please, leave me alone. I want you to leave the room.”

And I want to see you naked, lick every square inch of your skin, press you into the bed, and make you mine again and again – I think wantonly, but I have the feeling that my honest revelation would be rewarded with a kick in the balls, and it wouldn’t bring us closer to the solution. So I paraphrase my speech.

“I can’t do that.”

“What?” she picks up her head and drops down the book beside her.

“I will not leave here until you hear me out. I have to explain something to you about the time we last met.”

She stares at me incredulously, but I’m aware that she knows I’m talking about Halloween night.

“Are you serious, Harlan?”

“Dead serious.”

“Do you really want to chat about that night?” she asks cynically, almost with menace.

I swallow a few times, and smooth my hands over my stubbles in agony.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I want to, but I must.”

Raven shakes her head with astonishment, and laughs out bitterly. She pulls her hair to the side, so now it covers her full shoulder and it reaches down to her belly. She changes her position: crosses her legs, folds her arms, and rests her chin in her hands.

“I’m listening,” she says theatrically.

I stare at her with my lips parted. She sits on the bed like some grumpy dame. Beautiful. Mind-blowingly beautiful. Anger paints her cheeks red, her eyes glitter with passion. As I keep my eyes rested on her, I realize it won’t work like this. Not here, in the bedroom, where she sits between blankets and pillows tossed to the side. The sight is too distracting, and I don’t trust myself in the least. I need a more neutral terrain. Or at least, a place where there’s no bed. The bed/Raven Bertone combination causes me an instant hard-on. Not that I would need a bed to make her mine – I ponder. A table or a cabinet would suffice. Or just a vertical surface I can push her against while she wraps those sexy thighs around my waist and… - “f**k it!” the words break from me half-loudly, because I’ve once again wandered off in thought.

“What’s wrong now?” she spreads her arms.

“Not here,” I groan, and my throat is as dry as the Sahara. “Let’s go downstairs to the living room,” I mumble, and I’m on my way towards the door. I step into the hall, but looking back, I see that Raven is not following me. I sigh deeply. “Please,” I say gently, and it works at last. Although sulkingly, she gets up from the bed, and fixes the clothes on herself. I open the door for her, and she slides past me, making sure we don’t touch at all.

Raven

I had been lying curled up on the bed, fixing my stare in front of me, when Rafe opened the door on me. This morning’s developments completely knocked me out. I knew I had wound Rafe up by breaking the rules and leaving the house alone, and it’s also true that I’ve been teasing him purposefully these days, but his outburst still shocked me. How could he do this to me, with all the others watching us? How could he humiliate me again like that? Smug arsehole.

I just want to pack the little stuff that I have, get into my uncle’s car and leave this damned house without a word. The thought seriously tempts me, but my common sense tells me that my chances to stay alive without Rafe are no more than zero. Whoever wants to finish me, is not joking, and my shop shot to small splinters of glass is proof for that. I’m mad and frustrated, more than anything. But above all, I’m lonely and sad. For the last days I’ve been acting like a cool b***h for the others, flirting with Mac, trying to drive Rafe insane, but the truth is, I really need a little peace and some love. I simply need someone – a man – to love me genuinely, with dedication. That’s what I’ve wanted from Johnny. Have I made such a big mistake?

I have no idea what can be explained about the crappy business that happened between us, but my curiosity is even stronger than my feelings of hurt, so I follow him into the living room with a grumpy face.

When we are downstairs, the conversation of the others freezes at once, and an embarrassing air of silence sets in the room. As I look at Rita and the men, I remember that they were all witnesses to the previous scene as Rafe carried me inside from the garden on his back. My face turns red with shame. It’s so awkward. I probably didn’t look too dignified with my butt facing the sky and my legs kicking about.

Rafe’s hoarse voice breaks the silence finally.

“I must talk to Raven. Down here,” he adds, scratching his chin. “So, if you don’t mind…”

“We’re out of here,” Rita says, lifting her hands, and begins to push Gunner towards their room. Moving past us, she winks at me, and I return it with a little smile. On the go, Gunner picks up a bag of chips from the counter, and takes a bottle of water too, signalling that he, for his part, is prepared for the worst. Mac announces he’ll take a walk outside, and Rafe acknowledges it with a nod.

“Would you like something?” Rafe asks when we’re left on our own, but I only shake my head and settle on one end of the sofa with knees pulled up. He takes a bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a big sip. Then he walks back into the living room, and his stare rests on me for a long time. I don’t want to seem vulnerable, so I sit up a little straighter. He eventually sits down at the other end of the sofa, as far as possible from me, and turning his torso towards me, he starts talking. His tone speaks of dejection.

“I know you hate me, and I also know that you have every reason for it. I acted like a jerk back then.”

We fully agree, but this is old news.

“Whatever happened, happened. It can’t be undone,” I shrug my shoulders softly.

“This is true, but it’s not all that simple. I’d like you to know what motivated me.”

“What motivated you?” I stress the word purposefully. Well, that’s just great. So there was some extra motivation for which he treated me like a w***e?

“Why I a-a-acted so rude,” he moans, and he makes fists of his hands with frustration. I acknowledge with some bitter satisfaction that the stammering symptoms are surfacing in him again. He’s nervous. Then let’s give him a few more kicks.

“I guess, that’s your style. Some people can only do it like this,” I say, thrusting him below the belt, and by the look of it, I’ve scored.

He bites the corner of his mouth, and closes his eyes tight.

“That’s not true, Rae. You know fine well that things were very different between us beforehand. I had never been rough with you before. Okay,” he scratches his head, “other than the very first time. But then, never again. Right?” Since I don’t answer, he asks again, with a bit more stress. “Isn’t that right?”

I shrug my shoulders and look up to the ceiling. What does he expect now? Should I give him a standing ovation, because in the course of our nearly two-month relationship he was only a jerk twice? Well, I won’t cense him for that.

“Then the night of Halloween must have been quite special to you,” I note, and my voice is dripping with irony.