Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Cash
What in the actual hell?
“I know it sounds crazy,” Cece says, holding her hands in front of her. “But listen. Guys like that don’t see women as a threat. It’s kind of perfect. Roman has been training me, and I’m a good fighter, Cash. He thinks I’m almost ready to go in the field.”
“Almost? Then what the hell were you doing there tonight?”
“I went to my self-defense class. I missed the girls since I haven’t been going as much.
Leandra was there talking about how Danny is out there living his life, and her cousin is scared of every little noise.
I remember that feeling, Cash. She mentioned the bar he hangs out in, and I don’t know, I was pissed, and the bar is on my way home.
Thought I would go in and check it out, see if he was there. ”
“And then what? Take him out back and beat the shit out of him?”
“Yeah, that was the plan I was going to go with,” she replies with a shrug. A fucking shrug.
“So many things could have gone wrong with that, Cece. What if he had a weapon? What if his friends would have come out there? You could have been arrested, or hurt worse than anything you did to him.”
“I’ve been hurt, Cash. I’ve been nearly broken, but I survived. And now I know how to fight back. I know how to hurt back.”
“You’re not doing it. I won’t let you.”
Her head rears back and the look on her face is eerily similar to the one I’ve seen on her sister’s face. And we all know how well that tends to turn out.
“You aren’t going to stop me.”
Cece whirls around and stomps down the walkway to her house and up her stairs before punching the key in the lock and slamming the door behind her. Before she has a chance to relock the door, I open it and step inside, coming face to face with a very pissed-off woman.
“I’m trying to keep you safe. Why in the ever-loving hell would you want to put yourself in that situation again?”
She marches into the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cupboard, then fills it with water before taking a drink. When she slams the glass on said counter, she pins me with her glare.
“Because I have to. The only thing that has made me feel right in my skin—right in my head—has been focusing all the rage into something else. This is that something. I can’t explain it to you since you’ve never been through what I went through, but having this goal, learning how to use my body to hurt someone who hurts women, has given me a purpose.
I won’t let you or anyone else take that away from me. ”
We’re both breathing hard as we stare at each other over the counter separating us.
Neither of us says anything for several moments as what she’s telling me sinks in.
It’s the determination—the passion—in her voice that gives me pause.
But it’s more than that I hear from her lips.
She lost her power being on that compound.
It was stolen from her again when she was kidnapped and that disgusting asshole was on top of her.
She’s fighting tooth and nail to get it back.
To take her pain and bend it into something else, something that gives her back what was taken from her over and over.
I inhale a deep breath and blow it out, trying to make sense of all of my thoughts. There’s no way I can let her do this. She’s alone, and I don’t care what this Roman guy says, she’s not going out by herself—no matter how ready he thinks she is.
But I also understand her need to do something. The drinking didn’t help, the rage baking didn’t help, and the constant pressure she feels to move past years of hurt and abuse definitely doesn’t help.
“Here’s the deal, Cece. I can’t let you do this alone. I don’t know what Roman’s protocol usually is, but if this is something you need to do, you have to do it with me.”
“I don’t know if that’s allowed. Roman doesn’t know you and—”
“I don’t give a shit about Roman and what he does or doesn’t know. I know you, and I know that me telling you outright not to do this isn’t going to work. What I’m asking you is, please, if this is the path you choose to go down, let me go down it with you.”
“What do you mean exactly? You’re going to help me? Not try to stop me?” She eyes me suspiciously.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“What if I tell you I don’t want your help?”
I splay my hands on the countertop and lean forward. “Then I’m going to tell your sister what you’ve been doing, and you’ll have to deal with her without any help from me.”
“That’s low, Cash.”
“That’s the deal, Cece.”
Her eyes narrow, but I don’t waver. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m even suggesting going along with this crazy agenda she has, but I know I can’t let her do this alone. Even with me, this could go wrong in a million different ways, but at least I’ll be there to protect her.
She nods decisively. “Okay. I can live with that.”
“That means no running off half-cocked. You can’t be pissed and try to confront this Danny guy—or any guy—on your own. We have to be methodical and levelheaded, yeah?”
“It’s a deal,” she says, holding out her hand. I grip it in mine and then pull her over the counter, placing a kiss on her pink lips.
When I pull away, she has a slightly dazed look on her face. “What was that for?”
“Our make-up kiss,” I tell her. I bend over the counter and take her lips again, letting mine linger. The last thing I want to do is fight with her. We’ve spent enough time doing that tonight. “Come walk me out. It’s late, and we both have an early start.”
She walks around the counter and to her front door. When she opens it for me, I bend and kiss her again.
“And you won’t tell Lucy, right?” she asks.
“As long as you stick to our agreement.” Telling Lucy would have only been a last resort to begin with.
Cece trusts me to keep her confidence. If I couldn’t have convinced her to either stop with this insane plan or to at least let me help her, then I would have maybe considered it.
But I would’ve probably put some sort of tracking device on her car or phone, like she accused me of earlier, rather than run to her sister.
I know Cece well enough that it wouldn’t have stopped her anyways.
It would have only given her a reason to shut me out. This time, probably for good.
“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Lock up behind me.”
Walking to my bike, I get on and start it, watching as Cece closes the door before pulling out of her driveway.
On the way back to the clubhouse, one question keeps tumbling through my mind over and over.
What the hell have I gotten into?
Two days later, while working at the house, Cece came upstairs.
I’ve finished the hallway bathroom and have been working on pulling the flooring and making sure the boards are secure before I have someone come lay new carpet.
I opted to have hardwood downstairs, but I want the bedrooms to have a plush, warm feel.
Seeing as the house is old, it’s a good idea to double-check all the subflooring to make sure it’s sound.
I turned and Cece was standing awkwardly in the doorway of the bedroom I’m working in.
“So, I want to go back to the bar tonight,” she told me.
It’s not as though I’d thought she’d forgotten about anything. I’d never be so lucky. Honestly, as determined as she was the other night, I was surprised she didn’t tell me this yesterday.
“Okay,” I said, and she looked at me with a hint of surprise in her eyes.
“Okay? That’s it?”
I stopped trying to tear up a stubborn piece of padding that they must have used a gallon of glue on and stood up.
“I knew it was coming, sweetheart. I told you I was in whenever you needed me, and I meant it.”
“I don’t even know if he’s going to be there,” she said.
“Only one way to find out.”
And that’s how we ended up sitting in my truck across the street from the bar, keeping an eye on the front.
I’d come by earlier and checked for cameras in the alley behind the building.
Since there were none to be found, Cece decided she was going to somehow lure him out there.
I have an idea how she’s going to do it, and I am not thrilled with any man thinking he’s got a shot at getting in my girl’s pants in the back of a dirty alley.
Even if it’s only because she’s playing the part.
But she’s right about it being the fastest and least complicated way to get him where she wants him.
Still doesn’t sit right with me, though.
Not that any of this does. But it beats the alternative of having her sneak away and potentially getting herself into a situation she can’t get out of.
“I think that’s him,” she says, dipping down in her seat.
Looking over, I see the asshole from the other night walking toward the entrance with a couple of his friends.
They aren’t all dressed in the same pants and white T-shirts this time.
Instead of coming from work, they’re obviously on the prowl, wearing their finest jeans and fitted tees with about twenty pounds of gel in their hair between the three of them.
Fuck, I can practically smell their body spray from here.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—this works in our favor.
“Okay, let’s go over the plan,” I say.
“I’m going to go in there and flirt up a storm. Tell him you were my ex, and I just wanted to get rid of you quickly. I’ll tell him how I couldn’t stop thinking about him, blah, blah, blah. I’ll be out in forty-five minutes. Tops.”
“I fucking hate this,” I murmur, and Cece shoots me a sympathetic look.
“Thank you,” she says, and I look at her in confusion. “I know this is hard for you. That being here while I put myself in this situation goes against everything you stand for. And I know you’re doing it for me.”