“Oh,” she says shyly.

  “Let’s work out.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look, we don’t know each other well. I know more about you from the fucking Internet instead of from your lips, but it’s okay. I have a hell of my own to live, and when I can’t turn my mind off, I run.”

  “You want me to run with you? You don’t want to have sex?”

  “Oh, angel, I want to fuck you. I am a man.” As much as I shouldn’t want to fuck her, I do. As much as I should walk away, I don’t. Instead, I tell her exactly what I think in the moment. “I will fuck you, but not right now. Your head’s not there.”

  I sit up, taking her with me. Then she surprises me when she follows me out of the bed. I grab my shoes and head to the door.

  At the top of the basement stairs, she hesitates. I take her by the hand and guide her out into the space of her kitchen.

  “I-I,” she stammers as she fights to get her breathing under control. “I don’t go out at night.”

  I want to call bullshit, but now is not the time. My body is already amped up to feel the burn through my muscles.

  “Angel, you’re not alone.” I kiss the top of her head and pull her into me. “You feel me? You feel me here with you? No more fighting the darkness alone. I’m here. Right. Here. With. You.”

  She nods against me.

  Giving her a moment to get her breathing under control, I simply hold her. When she is steady, I separate us, and then we head to the back door.

  Sliding on my shoes, I realize I’m still in my club clothes. Not only do I desperately need a shower, but this is not ideal for a workout. Well, it will slow me down so that maybe she can keep up.

  Silently, we pound the pavement together. The steady thumping of our feet is in sync with each step of our jog, becoming its own lullaby of sorts. It’s not long before she is breathing heavily but steadily and seems to have worked out some of what is going on in that beautiful head of hers. My feet ache from the tight confines of my shoes, and I swear my pants are ready to bust at the strain of my oversized thighs stretching as my muscles move.

  When we slow, I look to see the sun rising. I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from me.

  Lorraine looks at me as if I’m as crazy as she is.

  “What?” I hold my hand to my chest in mock offense. “I’ve never seen the sunrise with a woman before.”

  I haven’t, not like this. Sure, I have taken women to bed and woken up with them, but never have I spent the morning on a run and watched the sun come up on a new day and a new beginning with a woman before.

  “It’s not my thing.”

  “You’re a good man, Jason.”

  I tip her chin to make her eyes meet mine. “Angel, the only good thing about me is right in front of my face. I’m a monster inside, and you should know that.”

  Something I have seen too many times before flashes in her eyes—challenge.

  Frustration grows inside me. Like a parasite, it latches on, and I feel the tightening in my chest.

  “I don’t see a monster.”

  My tone is sharp as I hold myself back. “Men like me don’t change. Evil is in my veins.”

  “Then why bust through my door to save me? Why take me to the hospital? Why get me out of my self-made prison to see the dawn of a new day? If you’re so bad, why be so . . . good?”

  I trace my finger over her jawline. There is trepidation in her eyes, but the challenge remains firm. “There is no good inside of me. There is in you. I’m here for you, though not because I’m some knight in shining armor. Angel, you’ve gotta know, don’t ever try to fix a man, especially one like me. You can’t tame the beast inside me.”

  She thinks for a moment, her eyes glistening with a pain from long ago. “I may not be able to tame the beast inside of you. I may not be able to beat back the darkness in your depths, Jason. I may not be able to fix myself, and I know I can’t fix anyone else, but maybe I can help you fight back, kind of like you are with me right now.”

  Never have I thought about someone fighting for me. The frustration I was feeling, the anger that was building from her challenge, changes. New thoughts invade my mind.

  Could I fight back, put the evil inside of me at bay?

  I would like to hope so, but I know reality is nowhere near as nice as fiction.

  I pull my hand from her chin and notice how large my fingers look against her pale skin. These hands have brought pain. These hands have brought death. These hands are tainted with more darkness than anyone could ever understand.

  “There’s no help for me. I’m not sure I want it.” I turn away from her and start the jog back to her home. I need to breathe, and I need the exertion. I need to push myself to the limit. I need to get away from her before she really starts to think she can save me.

  She falls in step beside me, and then we head back to her house. She stops when I do and doesn’t go any farther. She steps closer to me like I am some kind of armor for her. Then she looks up at me with lost eyes, and I know damn well I have to get her inside at the very least.

  I walk in, and she follows behind me. I watch her do some sort of surveillance walk around the house, checking all the windows and doors. She looks over her shoulder at me, seeming to make sure I am there with her.

  My stomach twists from knowing how terrified she is and that I am allowing her to think of me as some sort of hero. I’m no one’s hero.

  She turns around and looks me in the eye then back down. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, and fuck if I don’t want it between mine. But I can’t.

  Missy was crazy, and her fucking issues and mine didn’t mix. This girl is beautiful and fucked up at the same time, and I would just ruin her further. I would destroy the ounce of sanity she still holds, which is dangling from a very thin, invisible string. A string that would be sure to snap if I let anything more happen to her.

  I want to fuck her again. I want her eyes on me, watching me, only me.

  “I’ll be back later to get your alarm reset. Until then, get some rest.”

  The challenge I saw in her eyes earlier is gone. She simply nods her head and lets me leave.

  “She’s got you fucking twisted,” Brock says from the other side of the pad he is holding to protect him as I beat the hell out of it.

  “I’ve got me twisted.” I kick, and even with the padding, he stumbles back two steps. “I’m everything I never wanted to be, but fuck if it’s gonna change.”

  My entire body hurts. I shouldn’t be here, not after the head injury I sustained, but I have to fight. I have to feed the need inside of me to fuck shit up. I have to release the aggression that builds day in and day out. It’s fucked up. The Ping-Pong ball in my mind knows it’s all wrong. Everything about me is wrong, but I can’t control it.

  I also can’t get those angel blue eyes out of my mind.

  I can help you fight back.

  If she only knew what really lies inside me, she wouldn’t help me fight it back. She would fight to be free from me. It would be the smartest thing she could ever do for herself.

  She needs to get as far away from me as possible. I damn sure am not strong enough to walk away from her.

  Funny, I can beat the shit out of men twice my size, but I can’t resist the blond haired, blue-eyed pussycat on Hollow Terrace.

  I told her I would fix her alarm, and I will. She is also going to get the fuck out of that house. It can’t be healthy to stay there. Then again, it won’t be healthy to stay with me, either.

  I have to fight inside to keep myself away from her. She’s a mess and I’m trouble with a capital T. She has no idea the monster she had in her bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lo

  I watch him walk away. His muscles flex in his clothes. He is strong, so strong, and I can’t help wanting to absorb that energy. I need it for what we—I mean, I have planned. I know I’m a mess, but in order to clean up a mess, sometimes you have to become one.

  He gets in the car and sits in his seat, running his hands through his blond hair. He looks up at me and nods, then twists his finger as if to say turn around before he points to the door. He mouths Go, and it’s as if I can hear his rough, deep voice saying the words to me.

  His voice, even imagined in my head, wraps around me like a shield of strength and protection. There is no hesitation or thought. I look around the house that built me then crushed me, that terrorizes and consumes me with the borrowed strength of a man who calls himself a monster. I know I can finish what we—I mean, I have started.

  I lock all three dead bolts and the doorknob and then lean against the wall and slide down it, coming to a rest on the floor.

  He is gone, and I am here . . . alone. I take comfort in the sun being up and in Jason, the man with a pain of his own, the man whose stature and stare could leave anyone trembling, the man I allowed to keep me safe from her—myself—last night.

  Boots and Socks are sunning themselves in the window while I sit here, watching them in their relaxed state, envious of them. My eyes grow heavy, and I allow them to rest, but just for a moment. I know the house is locked and secure, because he made it so.

  I jump when I hear a loud knock on the door. I rub the back of my neck as I stretch. It aches from the way I was positioned. I must have fallen asleep.

  Socks and Boots jump off my lap.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” I say to them as I crawl to the window next to the door and peek out.

  Green eyes meet mine, and I instantly feel ease wash over me.

  I unlock and open the door for Jason, who walks in with a toolbox and a bag. He is dressed in gray sweatpants and a black, sleeveless shirt, and he has a black baseball cap on backward. He looks every bit as strong as he did when he left, maybe even more so.

  “I’m gonna fix this quickly. It shouldn’t take long, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” I know by the look in his eyes he sees the fear inside of me. “I can’t stay again.”

  I nod rapidly. “I know.”

  “You are off for a couple days. It was in your discharge papers from the doctor. Get this fucking place on the market. You need to move on,” he says as he walks by, setting the bag by the door where the alarm wires were cut.

  I watch as he works quickly, as if he has done this a hundred times before, and maybe he has. He is a mystery to me, a beautiful, strong conundrum of anger, attitude, and angst. I want to know more about him, but I know he doesn’t want me to. I can’t blame him. I am tainted and tormented by one horrible day. April 20, the day hell erupted from the depths and was no longer just a frightening story to scare a child into behaving. It became a reality, one I face every day.

  I start to feel my body on the verge of shaking and trembling. I can’t let this happen. Not in front of him. Not when I want him to stay.

  Anxiety drowns rationality, and I scurry into the kitchen where I feed the cats first then quickly start to make two sandwiches, just to keep him here for a little while longer.

  “I’m all set,” he says from behind me.

  I turn around and hold up the plate. “It’s a thank-you.”

  He closes his eyes, and I immediately feel let down, rejected.

  “Can I get it to go?” he asks with a forced, airless tone.

  “Of course.” I turn around and open the cupboard with parchment paper and cling film. I lay it out and wrap it in the paper, folding it into an envelope like I did when I was younger and worked at the sandwich shop on weekends.

  I liked having my own money. Heidi had Ryan, and they spent all of their free time together. He showered her with gifts and affection. I didn’t have time for boys. I wanted to work to buy the things I wanted, the things Ryan gave her that my parents thought were extravagant indulgences. Things a middle-class family couldn’t afford.

  At work, I met friends. I loved talking with the customers and got to know the regulars and what they would order. I also met a boy. The first night I agreed to meet Stephen after work was the night I was late.

  Emotions creep up in my throat, but I force them back as I wrap the cling film around the turkey and provolone sandwich on rye bread.

  When I turn around, I force a smile, and he looks back and forth between my eyes and forces his own smile. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time he has smiled at me. His teeth are perfect, straight and white. They don’t match the rest of his rough exterior.

  “You got a bag?” he asks.

  “Of course.” I know there is too much excitement in the response, because his shoulders automatically slouch in some sort of defeat.

  I open the cupboard and push up on my toes to reach the brown paper bags I haven’t ever used but know are in here.

  I feel his body heat behind me as he leans close and reaches up to grab them.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He takes in a deep breath, and I look over my shoulder at his eyes looking down at me.

  His voice is thick and gruff when he replies, “No problem.”

  He doesn’t move. I am sure that him staring at my lips means he is going to kiss me. I close my eyes, waiting, wanting, expecting . . .

  I feel his hot breath come closer and closer, and my body becomes tingly as heat rises from my toes up to my belly, intensifying the sensation.

  A knock at the door causes me to jump. In doing so, my head hits his jaw. He groans.

  “I’m so sorry.” I turn quickly. He doesn’t move, and I feel his erection against my stomach.

  I quickly look up at him, and he takes a step back, rubbing his hand back and forth over his hat, before he walks to the door.

  “Wait, don’t open it!” I panic as I peek around the doorway to see if he listens.

  He doesn’t stop. He unlocks the door and opens it without even looking.

  “What’s up?’ he asks in a somewhat cocky tone as he shoves his hands down the front of his waistband and adjusts himself.

  “Good afternoon.” I hear the familiar voice of Ryan Bennett and freeze on the spot. “I’d like to speak to Lorraine.”

  “About what?” Jason asks, not moving.

  “A personal matter,” Ryan clips back.

  “She’s busy,” Jason hisses.

  “If that’s true, I’d like to hear it from her.” I see Ryan push past him, and Jason grabs the back of his collar.

  “Did I invite you in?” he snarls.

  “Jason,” I gasp as I walk toward them.

  “You know this dickhead?” he asks as Ryan pulls away from him and stomps toward me.

  I nod and swallow hard. “He was my sister’s boyfriend.”

  “Christ, Lorraine.” Ryan looks around and points to the stairway. “What the hell is this? Where is all your furniture, your photos, a sign of life?”

  “Why don’t you back the hell off, son?” Jason asks, walking toward me.

  “Who the hell is this joker?” Ryan points at Jason.

  “This is my . . . friend Jason,” I answer.

  “Friend?” Ryan asks, seeming unconvinced.

  I look at Jason, hoping I haven’t offended him. He seems to be questioning my answer as well.

  “I certainly hope so,” I whisper.

  Jason’s eyes widen just a bit before looking away from me to Ryan. “What can we do for you?”

  “I heard through the grapevine she allowed someone to enter into her home,” Ryan says, looking around, “if that’s what the hell this is.” He looks back at me. “This needs to stop, Lorraine. You need to move on, have a life. If you can’t do it here, you can come back home. You smiled there, lived.” He walks around, waving his hand about, and then stops and looks at me. “We miss you. Come home.”

  “This the doctor’s kid?” Jason asks.

  I nod and look down.

  “Well, Ryan,” Jason starts, “Lo has decided she’s gonna put this house of hell on the market and get herself a new place. She is working things out.”

  “For two years, she’s been working things out. If she’s telling you that, she’s lying to you and herself.” I can tell by his tone that Ryan is angry at me.

  I shake my head. “I’m not lying to anyone.”

  “You should probably hit the road, Ryan,” Jason says firmly.

  “Lorraine, you and I need to chat . . . alone. Please tell this . . . gentleman that you are fine with me here.”

  I nod. “You were leaving anyway. I’m fine, Jason. I truly appreciate everything.” I look up at him, and he appears angry, but he finally nods.

  “Take care, Lo.”

  I walk him to the door, and when he opens it, I grab his arm. His body tenses, and then he pulls away.

  “See ya, Lo.”

  I feel an immediate sickness, a sadness, as he leaves without even a glance at me.

  “Lock the door,” Ryan says in a quiet calm that is all him.

  I shut the door and lock it then turn to him.

  He looks at me with hunger and sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you so damn much.”

  I don’t know what to say to him, but I don’t have time to say anything before he is in front of me, his arms wrapped around me. I hear a sigh as he kisses my head over and over again.

  “Ryan,” I say softly. “Please don’t.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m home now for good. I’m starting my residency at Henry Ford next week.” He pulls back and looks at me. “Dad told me about yesterday. He worries about you and wants you to come home. We can handle it. We can. I know it. I just want you to feel safe again.” He pauses, as if he is gathering his thoughts. “Lorraine?”

  “Congratulations,” I say, stepping back and away from him.

  He nods. “Thank you.” Then he turns and looks around the house. “I’m going to really help you this time. Let’s call the Realtor and start making this place presentable.”

  “I can’t live with your family again,” I say quietly.

  “That’s fine. We’ll get you a place.” He walks toward my parents’ room. “Somewhere in a building with security. Where the hell do you sleep?” He looks back at me.

  “The basement,” I answer.