Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“You know you were supposed to have those sutures removed after seven days, right? Or maybe you didn’t know that, seein’s how you chickened out and ran.” His voice broke her concentration, and she jumped as she wheeled toward him. He was standing behind her, a couple feet away. His expression was impassive and sent a chill up her spine. There was a time he was incapable of being so impassive with her.

“I just hadn’t gotten around to. . .”

“It’s fine by me, of course, if you want them growing into your skin. It’ll make removing them all the more fun for you.” His eyes had the glint of hatred, and his smirk was mean. All she could do was swallow over the lump in her throat and try to hold his gaze.

“I should find Michelle. She’s probably worried.” She walked to the back door, listening as his steps followed her. When they entered into the crowded backroom, every eye in the room snapped to them. They walked through the crowd, his body following closely behind her own as the room stared in absolute shock at the two of them together. Finding her table empty, Bailey started scanning the room desperately as Darren chuckled behind her.

“Seems Michelle isn’t that worried about you.” He was leaning down to her ear from behind her body as her eyes found Michelle sitting at the bar with a drink in her hand talking to some guy. “Doesn’t she know how much trouble you can get into on your own?” His hand had found her waist, gripping her tightly as his lips remained at her ear. It was the type of touch that would have set her body on fire once upon a time, but now . . . now it was a taunt. He was trying to make her uncomfortable, and he was succeeding.

She pulled away, stalking to the bar. “Michelle, I think I should go.” She didn’t even wait for Michelle to notice her before she started talking.

“Bay! Sorry. I needed a drink, and they’re so damn busy I had to. . .” Her words trailed off quickly as she took in Darren, who was still shadowing her every move. “Oh! Dare. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Michelle. I’m going to take Bailey home.” Michelle’s jaw hit the floor at the same time as Bailey sucked in a shocked breath of air.

“No!” She turned to him quickly as his gaze shifted from Michelle to her.

“Yeah, maybe not a great idea.” Not even Michelle appreciated his offer.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to take her to the hospital to remove her sutures. I’ll see she gets home safely.” His eyes were staring at Bailey deadpan. He’d somehow mastered the art of impassivity since six years ago, and he was giving her nothing at all to gauge what he was saying. She wasn’t stupid enough to think this man wanted to help her. “And seeing you’re busy with your drink, and about every last person here hates Bailey, you should probably just thank me and let me get on with it.”

“I don’t need a ride, Darren.”

Michelle’s eyes moved back and forth between them as they stared at one another. Bailey was confused—more than confused. She didn’t trust him. She had once, and he’d deserved that trust.

“Come on, Bay. I would never hurt you.” And then leaning to her ear, he whispered. “Not physically anyway.” He righted himself, still piercing her with his cool gaze that left her wanting to shrink away from him. It also left her wanting to touch him, remind him of who she was, remind him that he’d been her friend once. She was mesmerized by just how familiar he was to her, and yet, just how much of a stranger he was now. She wanted the old Darren back so much it felt like a hand in her guts twisting her insides slowly as she watched him. “You know you want to.” His voice was nearly seductive, and Michelle’s eyes were still dancing about between them.

“Okay.” She was whispering when she said it, and she wasn’t even sure why she’d said it. Her cheeks started burning. She had an obvious blush—always had, and she knew damn well he could see it. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and just when she thought he might say something, Michelle interrupted them.

“You’re sure, Bailey?”

She nodded, still unable to look away from him.

“I said she’ll be fine, Michelle. You know me better than to think I would do anything to her.”

“I also know you well enough to know you’re acting weird as hell.”

He finally broke eye contact with her as his attention snapped to Michelle with an amused laugh. “Fine. I’m acting weird. Aren’t I allowed? I am being forced to deal with her again after all.” He nodded toward Bailey.

“It’s fine, Michelle. I’ll call you later.” She snatched up her small clutch that Michelle had brought with her to the bar, and then she stood awkwardly by as Michelle watched her. Michelle didn’t have a clue why Bailey was agreeing to go anywhere with him. She wasn’t sure she quite understood either. He’d asked. That was her rationale. He’d asked, and she wanted to see what would happen. If she didn’t go, she’d wonder. And truth be told, she knew she was safe with him—at least physically. He might torment her emotionally, and he was likely implying he would, or at least that he could, but he’d be hard-pressed to keep up with her own self-torture. She was the queen bee at emotionally putting herself through the ringer. Hell, going with him might just be another brand of self-destructive torture. Only time would tell.

Six Years Before

The music was loud, and the crowd was too. The bar was on Seawall Boulevard, or to be more accurate, it was on the beach. You could literally step right out of the bar onto a patio and down the patio steps to the sand. Couldn’t possibly be smart to put drunk people so close to the water, but hey, it was Galveston, and people liked to get their drunk on at the beach. Bailey was no exception to that equation—not on spring break when she’d been talked into going out by the illustrious Jess.

It wasn’t that Bailey didn’t enjoy a night out on occasion; it just usually involved going to the movies or out to dinner. Bars really weren’t her scene—at least not hopping tiki-style bars with entirely too many drunk people spilling their drinks on one another. It really was best just to get a few drinks in you. Made the drunks far more tolerable when you could just join ’em rather than trying in vain to stay out of their way. So, she was being a joiner tonight. One Mai Tai and two shots of rum later, and she was well on her way. The Mai Tai was weak, the rum was watered down, so while it might’ve been a good start, she was really quite lucid.

She was plenty lucid to see Darren watching her as she stumbled her way around the dance floor with Jess. She was also plenty lucid to be embarrassed when she managed to dance right into a guy, spilling her drink on his thong-clad feet. Shit, she was one of the drink spillers now too. She was also more than lucid enough to catch Darren laughing at her when she cringed as she peered up to the guy standing in front of her. Did she miss the way Darren’s face fell when said strange man pulled her into his arms and started moving her around the dance floor? Of course not. She was lucid after all. Painfully and obnoxiously lucid.

She also still had her Silo cup full of something. What was she drinking? She didn’t much care. It was tropical, and though weak, she was certain it had at least a marginal amount of alcohol in it. Might as well keep drinking.

The guy was handsome. He was also quite drunk. He’d said his name; she was certain of it, but she’d managed to forget already, and when his body closed in on hers, she could feel his arousal against her stomach. He was clutching her lower back, pulling and pinning her body to his. His other hand held hers as he spun her and moved her across the floor. Bailey was just barely managing to keep her drink from spilling as she held it in her free hand. Jess was already dancing with someone else, and so Bailey’s attention returned to the handsome man and his arousal held tight to her body.

Bailey wasn’t the one-night stand sorta gal, but it was seeming like a fine idea at the moment. For whatever reason, she needed this. She needed to beat Darren at his own game. He made her feel inept and juvenile, and she needed to be something other than that. Were she a bit more sober, she’d easily realize her behavior was proving just how juvenile she really was, but her lucid self was perhaps not quite as lucid as she thought.

“Take a walk with me.” The strange man spoke against her ear, and her breath left in a rush as she looked toward the bar.

Trinity was sitting next to Darren, stroking the inside of his thigh with her palm, but while her attention might be solely on him, his was not on her. He was glaring at Bailey, and she shuddered at the anger in his eyes. Anger wasn’t how he ever regarded her—not ever, but she’d be damned if he didn’t look two seconds from ripping into her. When he cocked his head to the side, he was warning her, but when Trinity’s hand moved up toward his groin and Bailey watched as he sucked in a quick breath at the touch, she made up her mind.

“Sure.” The guy pulled her toward the open patio, and she walked with him down the patio steps to the sea wall and the sidewalk that ran along it.

They moved slowly; the guy was staggering just slightly, and Bailey wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t too. When he pushed her up against the wall, she gasped. He was pinning her to the wall with his groin. He trailed his hand out to her own, taking her drink from her and setting it behind her on the top of the wall just behind her shoulder level.

“You don’t need that now, do you?” He was speaking seductively as he ground his pelvis against her.

“What she doesn’t need is you touching her, asshole. Get your fucking hands off her.” Darren’s voice was seething with hatred, and when she turned to look up the sidewalk from the direction they’d come, he was standing there alone, glaring at the guy who still pinned her to the wall with his erection.

“Fuck you. Who the fuck are you?” The guy spoke with all the surety his drunkenness afforded him.

“I’m her brother. Get lost.” Darren was still seething, and he’d not even bothered looking at her yet.

“You are not!” She burst out laughing, but it was more condemning than humorous.

“Bailey, shut up! You’ve already shown just how stupid you can be on your own.” His eyes flashed to hers as he spoke, and it stopped the laugh in her throat in an instant. He was furious. When his attention moved back to the guy who had finally pulled his body away from her to face Darren, it was only to threaten him. “You’re going to leave her alone, or I’m going to make you. Your choice. But keep this in mind. My only concern is her—not getting laid, not getting loaded, not looking like the stud you obviously think you are. There’s no possible way for you to come out of this ahead without looking like a douche bag . . . unless of course you walk away and go find some other drunk chick to fuck around with. Either way, I’m not leaving until you’re gone.”

Bailey knew her mouth was hanging open. It was two parts embarrassment, one part complete and utter arousal. She’d wanted to show him up. She’d wanted to make him jealous, and whatever he was, it wasn’t pretty. It was anger, it was irritation, and it was a glaring reminder that she couldn’t and shouldn’t have even tried to play this game. She’d done it for her dignity’s sake, but it had been a complete and utter fail.

The guy started shuffling his feet a bit, eyeing Darren as he contemplated, but it was obvious he’d lost his edge. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re a pussy-fucking bitch-boy with a hard-on for his sister.” The guy was trying hard to maintain his cool, not realizing in the least he was falling prey to Darren’s own brand of calm, cool control; he was also proving Darren’s point perfectly, though he was likely too arrogant and stupid to realize it, and his inability to stand his ground without looking like a knob was almost embarrassing.

“You can call me whatever you like so long as you move on.”

“Bitch.” He spit the words at Darren, and Darren’s only reaction was to roll his eyes as though he couldn’t believe he was being forced to stoop so low.

The guy started off down the sidewalk, walking out and around Darren in a wide arc. Darren’s arms were crossed on his chest, and he was studying Bailey as the guy moved away from them, taking Darren’s advice, though the occasional pathetic curse he let loose said it was a struggle to keep his dignity as he scampered away.

“You’re competitive, Bay, but I’d say this is taking it just a bit too far. How ’bout you fuck my girlfriend while I watch, and we’ll call it even.” His glare was calm, too calm. He was boiling under the surface of his sarcastic remark.