Wrong for Me Page 12

  Her throat felt as if it were full of barbed wire. “No.” She had to force out the word. “I never thought that.”

  “Well, don’t think it. Because our friendship is not what I want to rekindle with you.”

  Her phone vibrated in her hand, and, when she looked down, she saw he’d sent her a photo. It was of a bed, big and wide and set low to the ground. The frame looked like it had been carved from a single, massive, blocky piece of battered and worn wood, while the mattress, by contrast, looked like a cloud floating on top.

  She stared at it, her emotions careering around wildly inside of her.

  Slowly she raised the phone back to her ear. “Why are you showing me that?”

  “Because we’ll be putting it to good use tonight.” There was no inflection in his voice. Just a statement of fact. “I wanted the frame to be strong enough for what I had in mind.”

  No, she wouldn’t ask what he had in mind. Just like she wouldn’t think about the empty, hollow ache between her thighs. The one she’d been trying not to think about ever since he’d had her up against the wall.

  “It looks expensive.” She couldn’t quite keep the husky tone from her voice.

  “It is. But I have money.”

  “Do you really need my opinion?”

  “No. But I thought you might appreciate the fact that the wood comes from an old factory that was abandoned eight years ago.” He paused. “Right about the time I went inside.”

  As if she needed another twist of the knife.

  She took a silent breath, leaning against the wall near the grimy windows, looking at the dirty, rundown street outside. “Seems appropriate.”

  No, she wouldn’t fight him, wouldn’t protest. It would only make things worse. She had to stop thinking of him as if he were the Levi she remembered and start thinking of this like the transaction it was.

  It was the only way she could deal with it.

  “Very,” he agreed. There was another pause, then his voice was quieter, deeper, softer. “I have plans tonight, Rachel. Big plans. Plans that involve a lot of pleasure for both of us, so don’t count on getting any sleep.”

  She closed her eyes, unable to repress the shiver that whispered over her skin. Don’t tell yourself it’s not anticipation. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  “Because my fucking you against that wall . . . that was just the start.” There was a promise in the words, a terrible promise. Terrible because it made her so conscious of that empty ache, of that need. Made her think about all the things she didn’t want to think about.

  Such as the feel of his cock, the beautiful stretch of him inside her. The pain of it, because he was big, and it had been such a long time for her, and he’d taken her so quickly. And how that didn’t matter, not when she’d been so wet, not when the pleasure had so completely overwhelmed her.

  She’d tried to distance herself from his desperation, tried keep herself separate, to disconnect. But when he’d begged for her to tell him she wanted him, his voice all ragged and cracked, the first hint of softness she’d seen in him, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from giving him exactly what he wanted. The words. The hand in his hair. And then, no matter how hard she’d fought it, the orgasm that had come for her anyway, detonating inside her like a bomb. And afterward . . .

  No. She wasn’t going to think about what happened afterward. What always happened afterward. The creeping sense of shame . . .

  “Do you want me to wear anything in particular tonight?” she asked, forcing the thoughts away.

  “No. You won’t be wearing it long, in any case.”

  Her heart gave a strange, fast thump in her ears. “Are you going to tell me what these big plans of yours are?”

  “Of course not. But at least now we’ll have a bed.” Another pause. “Though maybe we won’t need that either.”

  “Levi . . .”

  “Tonight, Rachel. Be at the apartment by seven. And don’t be late.”

  A vestige of her fighting spirit flared. “What if I am?”

  “Try it.” The roughness in his voice got even rougher. “You’ll find out.”

  Then he disconnected the call, leaving silence buzzing loudly in her ear.

  Slowly, she lowered her phone, putting it back in her pocket, her hand shaking.

  Zoe must have let the movers in, because Rachel could hear her out in the hallway, talking to them.

  And for a second Rachel didn’t want to move. She just wanted to stand there in the tiny, dingy room that still smelled of the cigarettes her gran used to smoke. Surrounding herself with a past she’d always wanted to escape, and yet now, when it came down to it, she was afraid to step away from.

  Because the moment those men came in and started taking away her furniture, everything would change. She knew it deep in her bones.

  And nothing would ever be the same again.

  Least of all herself.

  Chapter 8

  Levi pushed open the door to Gideon’s garage and stepped inside. His friend had sent him a text earlier that day suggesting he stop by since Gideon had something he wanted to show him. Levi hadn’t committed to anything since he’d had shit to do, but the meeting with Jason Ryan from Ryan Investments hadn’t taken as long as Levi had thought and his little shopping trip had hit with success earlier than he’d expected. He’d told Rachel to be there at seven, so he had a bit of time.

  Levi didn’t know what it was Gideon wanted to show him, but he had a feeling his friend was after something more. Gideon probably wanted to have a heart-to-heart after Levi had stalked out of the welcoming party without a word.

  Fuck, Levi really did not want to have that conversation right now. But then he couldn’t avoid Gideon either, or the questions that Gideon would no doubt have for him. Questions about Rachel.

  The garage was awash with light shining through the grimy windows and from the fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling. Gideon was bent over the same Cadillac he’d been working on the other day, fiddling with something under the hood.

  He lifted his head as Levi approached and grinned, grabbing the rag draped over the fender and wiping his hands on it. “Been wondering if you were going to show.”

  Levi stopped and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, I was going to text you back, but I had a lot of shit to do today.”

  Gideon dumped the rag on the fender again and leaned back against the car, the heels of his hands propped on the edge of the metal. His gaze was level. “Want to tell me why you walked out?”

  Fuck. Of course. This was going to be another goddamn interrogation.

  “No,” Levi replied. “Not particularly.”

  “This shit with you and Rachel—”

  “Is none of your fucking business.”

  “It is if she gets hurt.” There was no accusation in Gideon’s voice, just a flat statement of fact. “I’ve been looking out for her, Levi. The whole time you were away. She’s part of this family of ours, and that makes her someone I need to protect.” There was something very direct in Gideon’s eyes. “Even if that means protecting her from you.”

  Anger coiled in Levi’s gut, instinctive, defensive, his fingers curling into fists in his pockets.

  What the fuck did you expect? You know Gideon. You know how he protects the people he thinks need protecting.

  “You really think I’d hurt her?” Levi forced out, a part of him not wanting to know the answer.

  Gideon didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I do. I think that’s exactly what you want. Not physically, but I think you want some payback all the same.”

  It was like the thin end of a blade sliding between his ribs. Made all the worse because of course it was true.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, but, yeah, he did want some payback.

  Asshole. How could you do that her? You are hurting her, and you know it.

  Yeah and so? An eye for an eye, etcetera. That’s how it worked in jail, and Levi couldn’t shake off all those years of prison ju
stice just like that.

  He was only taking back what should have been his.

  Levi tried to get himself to relax because he hadn’t come here for a fight, not with this man who’d given him so much, and yet words he hadn’t meant to say spilled out of his mouth all the same. “Perhaps you should spend less time worrying about Rachel, and more time worrying about Zoe and the giant case of hero worship she’s currently carrying around.”

  Gideon stiffened, every line on his face carved from granite. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His deep voice was flat with authority.

  Levi met him stare for stare. “Not so fucking pleasant when the boot is on the other foot, is it?”

  The other man appeared to relax, but the look in his eyes was anything but relaxed. “We’re not talking about Zoe. We’re talking about Rachel. And you’ve changed, Levi. You’re harder, colder. Put it this way—if you were me, wouldn’t you be worried?”

  Good question. And one Levi didn’t want to know the answer to, especially when deep down he was afraid he already did.

  Ignoring the pain that came with that knowledge, he lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well. Prison can change a man.”

  Gideon stared at Levi for a long moment, then sighed, and the hard edge that had been there a moment before vanished. “I won’t let you hurt Rachel, Levi. No matter how fucked up you are. No matter how much revenge you want. Because you’re not the only one who’s been through some shit in the past eight years.”

  They hit him weirdly, those words. And he didn’t want them to have any impact, because obviously Gideon was talking about Rachel, and Levi was reluctant to think about what her life had been like since he’d been gone. What she’d been doing all this time. Obviously her gran had passed on—Gideon had mentioned this to Levi during one of his visits—and Rachel had managed to get her tattoo business off the ground, but apart from that . . . What kind of shit had she gone through, anyway?

  “Right,” Levi said, unable to help himself. “So I guess she had the shit beaten out of her too? And spent three months in solitary? Maybe she wasn’t allowed to go outside without permission or even walk to her own bed without worrying who was going to stab her in the back?”

  A shadow moved in Gideon’s eyes, and Levi abruptly felt like a complete dickhead. He remembered Gideon’s coming down to the station after he’d been arrested, arguing to get him out on bail, but the cops refusing, saying Levi was too much of a danger. Gideon had stayed there for hours, making a nuisance of himself, trying to get Levi out, until finally the cops had threatened to arrest Gideon too.

  This wasn’t only about Levi and Rachel. And she wasn’t the only one Gideon had tried to protect.

  But apologies were beyond Levi right now; he’d simply forgotten how to say the words, so he said nothing instead.

  “I know you had it rough,” Gideon said. “I’m not denying you did. I’m not denying that life dealt you a shitty hand. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just trying to point out that you’re not the only one, okay?”

  Fuck him. He was so fucking reasonable. And he always knew what to say to make you realize what a tool you’d been.

  “She’s moving in with me,” Levi said, because if he didn’t exactly agree with Gideon, then at least he owed the guy some kind of truth. “I had her pack up her apartment today.”

  Gideon’s eyes widened. “What? How the fuck did you get her to do that? And why?”

  “Where she lives is shitty and dangerous as hell. She shouldn’t be there anyway.”

  Gideon pushed himself away from the car. “Levi, I swear to God if you’ve—”

  “I want her with me.” Levi didn’t flinch away from the other man’s gaze. “I want the life I thought I’d have with her. I’m not going to hurt her; I’m not going to do anything she doesn’t want. I just want her with me for a while.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes. “And what does she say about this?”

  “She agreed.”

  “Like hell.”

  “She did.” Levi took his phone out of his back pocket and held it out. “Call her if you think I’m lying.”

  Rachel might tell Gideon that the choice Levi had given her hadn’t exactly been a good one, but if Gideon decided to talk to her about it, Levi was betting she wouldn’t tell him the truth. What was between Rachel and himself was their business, not anyone else’s. Not even Gideon’s.

  Gideon glanced at the phone, then back at Levi. He made no move to take it. “You didn’t answer my question. Why?”

  Okay, so at least there was some trust left.

  Levi tucked the phone away. “I told you. I always wanted a life with her; you must know that. Or at least you must have guessed.”

  “I did wonder,” Gideon admitted. “But you never made a move on her.”

  “I didn’t want to until I’d made something of myself. Until I had money and could take her away from this shithole.”

  Gideon frowned. “Nice thing to call your old neighborhood.”

  A familiar impatience began to rise in Levi. They’d had this argument before, he and Gideon. “You know my feelings about Royal.”

  “Yeah, and it’s changed a lot since you’ve been away.”

  Levi knew that. He’d seen the changes himself and approved. And soon, if he had his way and got the investment he needed, it would change again.

  But now was not the time to have that discussion.

  “I see that,” Levi merely answered. “Anyway, I’ve got money now. And now I want to take her away. Away from that shitty apartment at least.”

  Gideon was silent, staring at him. Then he said, “And she was more than happy for you to swoop in and rescue her?”

  Another good question. Rachel definitely wasn’t a damsel in distress who required rescuing. Both he and Gideon knew that.

  “She wants what I want.” Technically not a lie, but only technically. Yet again, it was a complicated situation, and Gideon wouldn’t understand it. Not Levi and Rachel’s history or the emotional undercurrents.

  Gideon wouldn’t understand their chemistry either.

  Gideon shook his head slowly. “She might, but moving into your apartment? I can’t see her agreeing to that.”

  “Like I said, call her if you want. She’ll tell you it’s all good.”

  “And if it doesn’t work out? What then? You just going to leave her with nothing?”

  Something inside Levi, something he’d thought long dead, shifted. His conscience. “Of course I wouldn’t leave her with nothing. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll find her somewhere else to live. Anyway, she’s a grown woman. She can look after herself.”

  Gideon gave him a dubious look. “Someone’s going to get hurt. You know that, don’t you? And it’s probably going to be her.”

  He’s right. She’s vulnerable, and you’re being a complete asshole to her.

  Levi shifted, grappling with his patience as he shoved the thought away. “You’re not my fucking father, Gideon. And you’re not my big brother. I don’t have to answer to you.”

  There was a tense silence.

  Gideon’s unwavering stare made Levi restless, uncomfortable. Jesus Christ, the guy could give some of the other motherfuckers in prison a lesson in menace.

  “You’re wrong,” Gideon said at last. “A big brother is exactly what I am. And if you hurt Rachel in any way, I’ll hurt you, understand?”

  Yeah, he understood all right. That was something else he’d learned in jail; fuck with anyone’s shit, and you were a dead man. Which meant he was walking a really thin line coming back here, wanting to do what he wanted to do. It would burn some bridges and then some. But he’d made his peace with that.

  He didn’t need any goddamn bridges, anyway. He’d build his own.

  “I understand,” Levi said flatly. “Was that what you wanted to show me? Or did you have some more fucking sermons to deliver?”

  The expression in Gideon’s eyes changed again, a fleeting look of frustration moving in
them before vanishing. “Nope. Sounds like you got it all figured out.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, okay then.” Gideon inclined his head toward the door that led to the lot out back where they kept vehicles waiting to be worked on and those waiting to be picked up. “Come on. I’ve got something for you.”

  Levi followed him out into the summer heat, threading his way through the parked cars, some of them gleaming, some of them battered and waiting their turn in the garage, until Gideon halted near the front of the lot, by the entrance guarded by a chain link fence.

  A convertible sat up on blocks, its black paintwork cracked and peeling, rust eating into the metal. Levi ran a quick, professional eye over it, only half aware he was doing so. It needed a ton of work, which made it barely worth the effort. What the hell was Gideon doing wasting his time with it?

  “I found this last week on Craigslist,” Gideon said, putting his hand on the door. “Classic 1968 Firebird.”

  “I know what it is.” Levi moved closer, examining the car. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. In fact, now that he’d gotten a better look, it was only surface rust. Probably wouldn’t take that much to turn it into a pretty sweet ride.

  He’d always liked Firebirds. Another thing he’d wanted to get for himself once he had the money.

  “What do you think?” Gideon asked.

  Levi shot him a glance. “It’s pretty good. Why? You thinking about restoring it?”

  Gideon’s gaze dropped to the car, and he ran his hand along the cracked paintwork in an almost tender gesture. “No. I was thinking you might like to restore it.”

  “Me?” Levi stared at him in surprise.

  “Yeah, you.” One corner of Gideon’s mouth curved. “Thought you might need a ride when you got out. And I thought you might want to familiarize yourself with engines again, have something to do.” Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the car and looked back at Levi, his expression unreadable. “But I guess you’ve already got something to do. And you don’t need to bother with engines anymore.”

  Levi’s chest felt tight, making a part of him ache, a part he thought he’d cut out while he was inside, because it was less painful without it. And, Christ knew, he didn’t need any more pain.