Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(69)

The third, well, that’s a bit embarrassing. Simple but extreme case of road rage. Some douche in a Porsche cut me off on the Audubon in Germany, after I’d just blown close to a couple million on a Bugatti Veyron, trying to ease the hurt. So I chased him down, till I had him cornered in the parking lot of a grocery store. That’s when I got out, picked up a grocery cart, and sent it flying through his front windshield. Yeah, not too proud of that one. Someone even got that one on camera, posted it online and it went viral. The guy was greedy though, and didn’t want to tangle with me, so just settled.

But if I keep going at this rate, I won’t have much room on my arm left. My buddy Damian’s been trying to get me over to his place again, for one of his get togethers. There are always girls there that like the hard stuff. He knows it’s good for me, to feed the demon a little so it doesn’t get crazy. But hell, I can’t even bring myself to fuck another woman, my dick just won’t have it—like it’s saving itself for Ava, as if it’ll ever have the chance to be with her again. And not being with someone, not getting that side out of me, just makes me feel like a ticking time bomb. It’s only a matter of time before I go and do something really bad, like kill someone, most likely myself. I know it. Damian knows it.

Fuck.

I need to get her out of my head, but I have no fucking clue how to do that. I’ve never had this problem with a woman before. There are times when I wish I had just left her there, stranded on the side of the freeway—my tragic beauty—but most times, I’m so grateful that I didn’t. That night with her was the best night of my life.

My saving grace, all this time, is that work has kept me busy, most times. All of the movie was shot on location, in six different countries, which kept me moving. And being the last movie in the series, it was good and violent, so lots of action scenes. Only downside was Candace. Remind me never to fuck a co-star, especially one I have to do sex scenes with. Got them done, but I know she was getting a sick pleasure knowing I didn’t want to touch her. Guess it added to the character though, cause she’d been the traitor all along. But when we weren’t filming, she was still at me, trying to lure me back to her. She liked us being a couple, or ‘power couple’ as she called it. But we were never really a couple, we were just two people working together who figured out we both liked the same kind of sex. Nothing more. And that’s something I’ve always made clear to her, but she’s so high on herself, she doesn’t think any man can resist her. And the more I brush her off, the more determined she gets, even after all that stuff with Ava. Like she’s out to prove that no man could want someone else over her. Already got a couple missed calls from her since getting off the plane, both of us being back home now. But I’m done with her. Fucking done. I know our paths will cross again, doing whatever finishing work is needed on the movie, and then there’s the publicity tour, but after that I won’t have to see her again. Still, I’m dreading it. I’m dreading all of it.

I roll onto my stomach and rake my hands through my hair. That’s when I smell the jetlag on me. That’s also when I think of Ava, smelling my arm pits. I laugh on the outside, but want to howl at the moon on the inside. Instead, I get up and go take a shower.

Half hour later, I’m clean, dressed in jeans and the Metallica shirt, and wondering what the hell to do with my Sunday afternoon. Normally I’d do laps or something, but I haven’t been able to go in the pool since that night. I think of visiting my mom, but remember she has her Bridge games on Sunday. I think of hitting the bag, or going to spar at the gym, but I feel more sad than angry.

But I know one thing. I can’t fucking be here.

Every damn thing I see reminds me of her.

I head back downstairs and pass the living room. Something dark flashes out the patio sliders, but when I stop, I see nothing. I walk over to the glass and look around the backyard, then find myself staring at the pool. That memory comes back, of wrapping her in a bear hug, and hearing her laugh. I close my eyes, remembering the feel of her body against mine, when a noise sounds. I look to see a couple crows land by one of the recliners. I watch them for a long minute, take one last glance around, then turn and head to the garage. A minute later, I’m behind the wheel of the car I picked up Ava in, and backing out the garage and heading down the driveway.

It isn’t me that drives to Los Ramos, it’s the car I tell myself. I have no idea what I’m doing. Maybe I have it in my head that I might see her on the sidewalk, see her beautiful, blue eyes and maybe she’ll give me one of her rare smiles, and tell me in her soft voice it was all just a joke. But when I pull into the parking lot at Bucks, it all comes back to me.

Fuck.

I close my eyes, picturing my last moments with her, and hearing her words. They rip into my chest, making it feel like my heart’s laying wide open. I’ve often wondered how things would’ve turned out if I’d simply thrown her over my shoulder and taken her with me. I could’ve justified it by those marks on her wrists, and that fear in her eyes—both as good a reasons as any to get her out of there. But I know that fucker had a hold on her, somehow, some way, and as soon as I wasn’t looking, she’d have gone right back to him. My mom did the same thing when I was a kid, after her sister finally convinced her to take me and leave my dad. She lasted a week, then went running back to him, bruises and all. I know she regrets it now, but at the time, she was still so hooked on him, she hadn’t been ready to leave. But by the time she was, it was too late. I forgave her for it a long time ago, but the anger is something I’ve never been able to let go of.