Ruthless Salvation

21

“Women’s toilet is clogged.” She gave a remorseful smile. “It’ll have to wait.” She tried to push past me. I shot out my arm and barred her exit.

“Outside. Now.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she gave me a jerky nod as though finally accepting the inevitable. I slowly lowered my arm, noting my body’s reluctance to pull away. She was so damn close, yet so totally unreachable. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and refuse to let go until she quit pushing me away.

We stepped into the cool evening air out front of the club. I led us off to the side away from customers trickling in.

Once we couldn’t be overheard, I took a deep breath and blurted, “I wanted you to know I’m clean.”

Smooth, motherfucker. Real smooth.

I swiped a hand through my unruly hair. “And I don’t know what to say about the other … if you were on the pill or not … but I can go grab Plan B if you need it. Or not. I didn’t mean to push you to … Fuck.” Words spilled past my lips without tact or intent. I hadn’t known what to say, so it had all come out wrong.

Storm sighed, a shadow marring her usual cheer. “Pregnancy isn’t an issue, Torin. And I’m clean, too.” She offered me a thin smile that grated on my last nerve. “So it sounds like neither of us has anything to worry about.” She rocked back on her heels, then turned and slipped back inside.

I made no move to stop her. I couldn’t. I was too busy keeping my short fuse from detonating. What the f**k was that? Did she just give me the brush-off?

Take it for the gift that it is, dickhead.

Shit.

Why the hell was this such a problem? Ever since losing my faith in human decency during my year away in juvie, I preferred to keep people at a distance. I should have been relieved that Storm had no expectations of me. It should have been my get-out-of-jail-free card, but instead, her casual indifference toward me felt more like salt rubbed into an open wound.

Frustration and anger blistered beneath my skin.

Without any other outlet, I kicked a rock at a parked car, then went back into the club just long enough to grab my jacket and keys. I had to get the hell out of there.

I SPENT an hour at the gym burning off steam, then went into the office above the club to do paperwork. Neither activity gave me the relief I’d hoped for.

When closing time came around, I found myself ducking out of the club minutes after Storm and skulking behind her in the shadows. I had desperately hoped that f*****g her would put an end to this damn obsession, but how could I let her go when something was so obviously wrong?

Like that’s the only reason, you sick f**k.

I needed to know she made it home safely. I wanted to see for myself.

You want to be near her.

What I wanted was to silence that damn harpy in my mind. I already carried enough shame with me, no reason to pile on more.

Storm went inside, and as usual, I waited to see the lights go on in her third-floor apartment. My angle from the street gave me barely enough visibility to see into her place from a distance.

Now came the hardest part. Forcing myself to leave.

It was a nightly battle I didn’t always win. But tonight, she gave me no option. For the first time since I started this masochistic practice, Storm pulled her drapes all the way shut.

She’d always left a gap before. Always. Why not now? Could the change in her routine be a coincidence?

Did I suddenly put stock in the unrealistic existence of coincidences? No. I was way too f*****g cynical for such whimsical beliefs. But that would mean she closed the drapes as an extension of that barrier between us. But that couldn’t be right because it would have meant she’d known all along. She’d known I was watching her … and she’d let me do it. And now … she was putting an end to it.

Fuck no.

I didn’t like where this was headed. In fact, I hated it. I hated the way she was withdrawing. I hated that some other man had walked her home two nights ago. I hated that something was so obviously upsetting her, and I was clueless as to what. I hadn’t forced her to have s*x at the fight. That was one thing I felt certain about. She had wanted me inside her as much as I’d wanted it—so what was the problem?

Was she sleeping with that other guy? Were they in a relationship?

It occurred to me that I could go up to her place and see if there were signs of someone else. Now, I was truly traipsing into stalker territory.

Did I care?

Not enough to stop myself.

I waited until the sun started to light the sky before letting myself in the building. I wanted to make sure she was sound asleep. One of the benefits of forcing her slimy superintendent to update the security panel was getting access to the code. Getting into her place wasn’t a problem. I’d copied her key ages ago. I hadn’t used it until now, but damn had it been tempting.

Fascination filled me as I took inventory of her personal space. The Lshaped studio allowed for the illusion of a bedroom, and the main living space centered around a tiny sofa, a two-seater dinette, and a small but modern corner kitchen. She had a good amount of stuff crammed into the apartment, but nothing of a personal nature. I didn’t see one photograph or memento hung on the wall or displayed on the windowsill aside from an empty ceramic vase.

I peeked into the bathroom, unable to see much in the darkness except to confirm only one toothbrush lay by the sink. No beard-trimmer. No men’s boxers lying about. Nothing to indicate anywhere that she had a man coming over with any regularity.

My relief was diminished by a gnawing sense of irregularity that I couldn’t explain. Maybe I was projecting a sentimentality she didn’t possess. Not every woman was a fan of photographs and momentos. Yet she seemed like the sort who would display memories to keep them close, even when limited on space.

That conundrum would have to go unanswered.

Unable to leave without seeing her, I rounded the corner and felt a piece of my soul sigh at the sight of her, like a weary traveler returning home. Something about her called to me on an elemental level. I’d spent my adult life always on edge, but with her around, I felt a foreign sense of peace.

It was no wonder I’d developed an addiction to her.