Falling into You (Falling #1)(34)

It’s two a.m., I’m sober, mostly, and I’ve got nowhere to be, and I’m walking. I’m not ready for the cold, quiet apartment, not ready to finish the big block. I’m trying to convince myself that I should forget Nell. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last two years, only now it’s even harder because I have fresh images of her, the scent of her shampoo in my nose, the memory of the tingle of the silk of her bra against my T-shirt. Fresh knowledge of her seductive beauty, the harsh chasm of pain in her heart.

So I’m not entirely surprised when 3 a.m. sees me approaching her building in Tribeca. The door to the building isn’t locked, oddly. For reasons I don’t care to examine, I’m pushing through and up the stairwell. I hear her voice first.

“Dan, I’m going inside. Alone. I’m tired.”

His voice is low, but audible. “Come on, babe. Watch a movie with me.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know what you want. And the answer is no. That hasn’t changed.”

“Yet I keep hoping.” His voice was amused but irritated. “Then why are we even dating?”

“You tell me. I’ve never encouraged you. I never said we were dating. We’re not. You just won’t go away. I’m not going to sleep with you, Dan. Not tonight, not tomorrow night.”

“What can I do to convince you?”

“Be someone else?” Her voice is sharp and biting.

I’m on the landing of the first flight of stairs, hand on the railing, head tilted up, as if I could see them through the stairs.

He snorts in laughter at the barb. “You’re such a fucking tease, Nell.” The amusement is gone.

“I am not.”

“You are too. You’ll kiss me, you’ll let me grope you, you’ll go out with me and all that other shit, but then we get here, and you close down.” His voice is rising, getting angry. “I’ve put up with this shit for three months. I’m tired of it.”

“Then stop putting up with it. Leave me alone. I have never promised you anything. You’re a nice enough guy. You can be funny when you’re not being a douchebag. But this isn’t going anywhere and it never was.” The silence is palpable. He’s pissed, even I can feel it from a flight of stairs away. I hear a key in a lock, a door knob twist. “Goodbye, Dan.”

Then a hiss from her, contained pain.

“I don’t think so, babe. I haven’t put three months of work into you, buying your drinks and your lunches and your coffee just to get dumped now, with nothing to show for it.”

“Sorry, Dan. I never asked you to do that stuff. In fact, I told you not to, and you insisted.”

“It’s called being a gentleman.”

“No, it’s called expecting me to put out in exchange for free drinks. Now let go.”

I hear a foot thump against wood, and door hinges creak open, shuffled, stumbling steps. “Like I said, Nell. I don’t think so. I feel like watching a movie. I’ll even let you pick.”

“Say what you mean, Dan.” Her voice is hard, but I can hear the fear.

“Is that how you want it? Fine, then, babe. We’re gonna go inside and we’re gonna have a good time together. You’re gonna show me how sweet your body is, and how nice you can be.”

“No. Get out.”

A scuffle. A smack of hand on flesh.

Dan’s laughter, amused and cruel. “Smacking me isn’t going to help, bitch.”

A whimper of pain and fear, and then I’m seeing red, creeping up the stairs. Old habits die hard; I’ve got brass knuckles on my fist, which I never really needed, but they came in handy and I always carry them because you never what could happen on the streets of New York, even to me.

I’m at her door, closed now. I hear struggles, muffled.

“Quit fighting me and I’ll be gentle.”

Motherfucker is gonna die.

The knob twists silently in my hand, and the hinges creak, but the sound is lost beneath Nell’s whimpers and Dan’s laughter as he holds her in place and fumbles roughly with her skirt and panties.

She sees me, and her eyes widen. Dan sees her reaction, turns and straightens in time to meet my fist. He’s a tough sonofabitch, I’ll give him that. Not many men can stand up after I’ve hit them, especially with brass knuckles adding force. His face is mask of blood, and bone shows white on his forehead. His mouth spreads in a rictus of primal glee.

“Colton! NO! He’ll kill you!” Nell is panicked, shrieking.

He wipes his eyes with his arm and takes a step toward me, assumes a fighting stance.

“You don’t watch UFC, do you?” He smiles at me, and I know I’ve bitten off a pretty big chunk in tangling with him. I do recognize him, now. Dan Sikorsky, heavyweight UFC contender. Brutal bastard. Rumors are he killed a guy in a back alley bare-knuckle boxing match.

I grin back at him. I was scouted by the UFC too. I turned them down. I don’t fight for money anymore. The brass knuckles go back in my pocket.

I glance at Nell. “I’ll be fine. But what the fuck are you doing with a guy like him?”

She seems puzzled. As if she can’t quite believe my nonchalant tone in the face of a bruiser like Dan. I flash her a cocky grin which I don’t quite feel.