Grit (Dirty #6)

  “I don’t want to do this.”

  “It’s loaded,” I say, ignoring her plea. “What are you taking precautions for?”

  Her lashes kiss her cheeks as she closes her eyes, releasing a long breath. “When Garrett raped me, it killed something inside of me. A whole piece of me was just changed—gone forever.”

  She swallows forcefully and my gut churns. I know. I understand exactly what she means.

  Rocky knows about my past. What happened to Olivia and me. How we were attacked. Both of us stabbed. And what I did in the name of revenge. How I murdered one man and persuaded another to take his own life. She knows the worst of me. But I don’t know the details of what happened to her. Selfishly, I don’t want to know.

  But that feeling she’s referring to—that long-gone piece that made her who she is…that I know well.

  “I didn’t think I could live through that, but I did,” she continues. “Then that night, when Bates showed up… It was dark.” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t want the memory there. “I thought he was you. I walked right into his arms.”

  My stomach twists again, a fist violently squeezing my insides. The need to kill Bates flares ferociously. I was able to stop myself that night, for Rocky, but with one sentence, it all comes rushing back.

  “When he grabbed me—when I realized who he was and what he was going to do—I knew for a fact I would never survive a second time. If my body could handle it, my mind definitely wouldn’t. Not again. I need to protect myself.”

  And there it is. Another sucker punch.

  It takes me several seconds before I can even find the right words. “That’s what the self-defense classes are for. That’s what I’m for.”

  Her lips turn up in a sad smile. “You can’t be with me twenty-four hours a day. Bates hasn’t been sentenced yet. And Garrett is still out there, walking around free. I need this. It makes me feel safer. Please understand. I can never allow it to happen again.”

  Three

  Rocky

  Link is distant. He’s present, but he’s not really here with me. His mind is whirling. I can see it in the blank expression he wears. In the detached look in his eyes.

  The gun bothers him more than I could have ever expected. Because I never once anticipated him minding at all. If anything, I’d think he’d feel better that I have it. I can’t say I really understand it either. He’s the first one to preach planning and self-defense—understandably with his past.

  That’s all I’m doing. Protecting myself. Preparing for the unknown.

  My big brother, Joe, is a marine. He’s trained well when it comes to weapons and firearm safety. He gave me the whole spiel. Keep it in the house, in the same place, close to my bed. Safety always on. Never pull it out unless I’m ready to use it. He taught me about the kickback. How to load and unload. Even how to clean it. Really, the only thing I haven’t done is fire it. Yet. He set up time at the range later this week for a lesson. Something he wants to do weekly. Brother/sister bonding time—Cutrone style. He’ll be training me in the same way Link trains my body for combat.

  It’s just one more step in being ready for…anything. One more way to keep us safe. This is what Link does. What he lives for. His coldness makes no sense to me. I want to question him. Ask him to explain, but his demeanor keeps me from bringing it back up. And to be honest, as important as his opinion is to me, I need this. I need him to be supportive. If he can’t do that, then I don’t think I want to hear his thoughts on the subject.

  I roll onto my side and stare at the TV. I’m not sure what Link is pretending to watch. I haven’t paid attention to it either.

  “How long have you had it?” he asks, breaking his silence and proving I was right. His thoughts have firmly been focused on the handgun.

  “For about a week,” I murmur.

  His fingers move over the last traces of bruising lining my arm. “They’re almost gone.” His voice is low and rough as he continues to caress the tokens Bates left behind.

  “I’m sorry,” Link croaks.

  I turn, quickly moving onto my back so I can see his face. It’s unreadable. Emotionless. The only clue he feels anything is the pulse throbbing in his neck. I know if I reach out and touch his chest, I’ll feel his heart thumping unsteadily.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from Bates. I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry—” His voice gives out and the desire to cry crushes me. Link is strong. His body is a rock. But inside, he is just as damaged as I am. Without making the conscious decision, I slide over him, coiling myself around his torso. I hold his head to my chest, hugging him.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” I tell him. “You got there. You saved me.”

  He shakes his head against me, his arms folding around my back. “I wasn’t there in time to keep him from hurting you. I shouldn’t have left you. You could have… He could have…” He stumbles over his words, but I understand. I could have died. Bates could have killed me. Or worse.

  “But I didn’t—he didn’t. Because of you.”

  He lifts his head, his eyes glazed when they meet mine. “I should have killed him.”

  And then I comprehend exactly why the gun bothers him so much. It’s not the gun itself. It’s that I need it. It’s a long, irrational list of reasons in his head why it all falls back on him. As if he isn’t enough. As if I don’t trust him to defend me.

  I lock my hands on each side of his face, making sure I have his full attention. I grip him so hard, I’m sure it hurts, but he doesn’t object. “I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. I tried. But he dropped me with one well-placed blow. If it hadn’t been for you showing up when you did, that cowboy prick would have killed me. You. Saved. Me. You. But it is physically impossible for you to be with me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. There are going to be times when I’m alone. When I want to be alone. And for those moments, I need the gun. I have no intentions of using it. It’s just nice to know it’s there when you can’t be.”

  He opens his mouth to reply, and I can tell he’s going to argue with me—deny what I just said—so I shut him up the best way I know how. I place my mouth over his and show him how much I appreciate him, how much I trust him, and how much I care about him with a kiss.

  Four

  Link

  I order flowers for Olivia’s grave. I’ve done this every Monday, like clockwork, for over four years. But today, for the first time, I place a second order. A single red lotus to be delivered here at the gym, to Rocky.

  Taylor at Forever Florist is shamelessly intrigued. “A single red lotus?” she verifies, her words stretching with curiosity.

  “That’s right,” I confirm.

  “The red lotus signifies emotional attachment and passion. It symbolizes the opening of one’s heart.”

  “Interesting,” I deadpan.

  “Who’s the lucky girl you’re opening your heart to?”

  I sit heavily, sinking into the cracked leather chair. I pinch my eyes closed and try to suck in a breath, but my lungs aren’t cooperating.

  She makes it sound simple.

  It’s not.

  It’s difficult as hell. It’s messy and complicated and twisted. Open my heart? I don’t have a fucking clue what that means. It implies my heart is a locked door and I’m willingly flipping the latch and inviting another woman in.

  That’s not how it happened. Rocky found a cracked window and snuck in. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to kick Olivia out. I don’t think I can ever be ready for that. Not completely.

  But now that Rocky found a way inside, I’m not asking her to leave either.

  “It’s just a fucking flower, Taylor,” I growl.

  “My mistake,” she states flatly.

  ***

  I hook my thumb into a hand wrap and roll it around my wrist as Augie bounces from foot to foot in the ring, pumping himself up.

  “Come on, man. You’re getting slow.” He smirks do
wn at me, wiggling his dark brows. “I’m going to kick your arse if you’re this sluggish on the mat.”

  I chuckle. I don’t think Augie has ever kicked my ass unless I let him. Sometimes it feels good to get pummeled. Reminds me I’m alive. Sometimes it feels better to do the pummeling. Reminds me why I’m alive.

  I haven’t been in the ring since the night Carter Bates gave me another scar to match the ones he left me with four years ago. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be sparring yet, but I need this today. Badly.

  “Don’t count on it,” I reply. “I just had a late night. Didn’t sleep well. Doesn’t mean I’m not on game.”

  His eyes brim with amusement. “So I’ll assume Rocky had a late night as well then?”

  We haven’t made any kind of announcements about our relationship, in part because I don’t think either of us really knows what the hell we are to one another, nor are we prepared to discuss it—with each other or anyone else. But it’s obvious we have something going on. We don’t hide it. We just don’t shove it in everyone’s faces. That doesn’t stop Augie from being a hopeful, nosey bastard.

  I ignore his question. Any way I answer will prove whatever he’s insinuating. I don’t kiss and tell.

  “You going to keep talking or are you ready to box?”

  He knocks his knuckles together and nods. “I’m always ready.”

  “Then shut the fuck up and put your mouth guard in.”

  “The lady doth protest too much,” he retorts.

  I flip him the bird and he grins at me while he slips the guard in place. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into everyone prying into my personal life. First the florist, now Augie. If he weren’t my closest friend, I’d nut tap him for that shit.

  I suppose I can’t blame people for questioning me. I haven’t shown any real interest in a woman since Olivia. There was Lea, but she was a well-kept secret. A warm body to help me cope when shit got too hard. There was a sort of friendship there, too, I think. A connection due to the tragedy we’ve both endured. But we always knew it was temporary.

  Rocky is different. Special. I know that. And so does everyone else obviously.

  I block Augie’s attempt to hook my jaw, dipping and countering with a blow to his side. He grunts and I back off, letting him catch his breath.

  Movement out of my peripheral catches my attention. I watch the man approach Joe at the counter, vase in hand. The single red lotus is vibrant in the otherwise dull gym. Joe directs the delivery guy to the office and all my focus centers on the door.

  Augie takes advantage of my slip and slams his fist into the side of my head. White light bursts through my vision. I take another hit to my chin before I get my hands up, impeding his next attempt. I’m definitely not ready to be in the ring yet.

  I grip the rope and spit my mouthpiece to the floor. “Asshole.”

  He laughs, unashamed, and shrugs. “Fair play,” he mumbles around the plastic in his mouth. He motions at his eyes with two fingers, letting me know I should have been paying better attention. He’s right, but it doesn’t make him less of a dick.

  I rub my chin and work my jaw back and forth. “That was a good hit,” I admit. “Shady as hell, but good.”

  “Hey,” Rocky calls. She rests her palms on the mat, leaning toward me. From this angle, I have a nice view of her cleavage, which means Augie does too. I glance over my shoulder at him and of course the fucker is blatantly staring at her tits. I step in between them, cutting off his examination, and squat in front of her.

  “I got the flower. I just wanted to say thank you.” She glides her tongue over her lip and inclines closer. “When you’re finished here, come find me so I can say it again. Properly.” With that image firmly implanted in my head, she pivots on her heel and strolls away.

  I don’t realize I’m smiling until I turn around and see the expression on Augie’s face. Both brows are high on his forehead, mouth hanging slightly ajar. He pops the piece from his mouth and grins knowingly.

  “Holy shite. What in fuck’s sake are you doing still standing there? Go get your proper thank you.”

  I don’t think there will be anything proper about it.

  “Oh, shit,” Augie mutters. “Joe’s staring you down.” He folds his arms over his chest, casually adding, “He’s probably not happy that you bang his baby sister.”

  “Fuck off. It’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like then?” he asks.

  I give him a warning glare. “None of your damn business.”

  He holds his hands out, trying to placate me. “All right, calm down. I didn’t realize it was like that.” Before I can confirm or deny or understand what he means, he goes on, switching rapidly to another topic. “Joe and I met a couple of gym bunnies this weekend. A bit younger than I’m used to, but sweet, and sexy as hell. We’re all going out Friday.”

  Well that was just fucking enlightening. I start unwrapping my wrists. My head isn’t into going another round with Augie—in or out of the ring. All I can think about is claiming my improper thank you.

  “You should come. Bring your girl.”

  My head shoots up.

  My girl?

  He laughs, I guess getting the reaction he wanted. “We’re meeting here at nine. Don’t be late.”

  Five

  Rocky

  I remember the first time I met Link. My initial impression of him was that he was an asshole. Just an arrogant douchebag who hired my brother. That was it.

  But there was a vacancy in his gaze that gave me chills. Something about him spoke to me and I knew on some level, he and I were similar. We had both been through something terrible that made us who we were.

  I never expected to fall for him. To want him and need him above anything and anyone else. To crave him more than I craved a drink. To hunger for him. For his body, his touch, his closeness.

  Not once did I consider one day I would ache to have his affection.

  Life is an ugly and wondrous thing. It beats you to a pulp and rewards you for surviving. Over and over, it’s an endless loop of ups and downs. Goods and bads. Pleasures and pains. Gifts and losses. We power through. That’s what we do. We embrace the calm and weather the storms.

  Garrett Marshall was a hurricane. Carter Bates was a tsunami.

  Linken Elliot is my tranquility.

  I bring the red blossom to my nose, inhaling deeply. I’ve never been a flowery kind of girl. Not even…before. However, this single lotus makes me feel weepy and emotional. Link spoke volumes with this one gesture. Without a word, he told me he was thinking about me. And that’s one of the nicest feelings in the world.

  I place the vase back on the desk just as the office door swings open. Link slips in and flips the lock behind him.

  One of the many perks of working here—office sex with the boss.

  “Come here.” His voice is soft, low, but there’s a clear command there. It sends an excited chill down my spine, but I don’t comply. Instead, I cock a brow in challenge.

  “You come to me.”

  He grins, the tiny dimple in his right cheek winking at me. Damn he has a gorgeous smile. I want to do all sorts of dirty things to it.

  Link pushes off the door, stalking toward me. He rolls the chair away from the desk, lifts me out of it, and plants his own ass in the seat as he lowers me onto his lap.

  “I want you,” he husks. “Right here. Right now.”

  “That’s good,” I breathe, “because I want to give myself to you. Right here. Right now.”

  His lips brush over mine, teasing. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows exactly what we’re doing in here.”

  I shake my head, inching my chest closer to his until there’s no space left between us. “I don’t care about other people.” I slide my tongue over his chin, licking my way into his mouth. He bites down, holding me in place. His hands slip underneath my shirt, fingertips pressing into my back. He sucks hard, prompting me to moan.

  My hands sink into his
hair, the strands cool and silky. I tug just because I can. Just because I want to touch him. His palms slide around, drifting to the front of my jeans. He pops the button and drags the zipper down. I mimic his movements, skating my fingers down his chest to his belt and work it through the loops. He rolls us forward until my lower back is flush against the desk.

  One large hand presses into my chest and I lie across the papers and files. I don’t think he realizes the effect he has on my body—and my heart. Link doesn’t say a lot, but he doesn’t need to. I know everything I need to based on his actions. I hold onto his forearm. Fingernails digging into his flesh. His eyes meet mine and I don’t know what emotion he sees there, but his body shudders and his hand trembles between my breasts. His eyelids fall, concealing his gaze.

  I slip my hand down to rest on top of his, quieting the shaking. I watch, mesmerized, as goose bumps race upward, lifting the hairs on his arm. He drops his head, laying it on my stomach. And we stay that way for several long seconds. Just holding on and breathing.

  I think he might have seen. I think he might understand what is getting harder and harder for me to hide.

  I love him.

  I cup his cheek, brushing my thumb over his day’s worth of growth. It’s rough, like his callused fingers. This is what I love most about him, I think. He’s hard and coarse, strong and lethal. He could easily overpower me. Hurt me. He has hurt others. But when he touches me, he’s always careful. Gentle.

  “I can hear your heart,” he murmurs. “It’s racing.”

  For you. It races for you.

  Link’s lips smooth along my shirt, the heat of his breath warming the fabric. He stops over my heart, tugging the material to bare my skin. He places a tender kiss there. Moves down, towing the shirt with him. He glides his tongue in a circle, licking my breast before he pulls my nipple into his hot mouth.