Chapter 14
Jersey
I shouldn't care about what's happening in front of me right now.
The sight of other people running their hands over her bare skin shouldn't make me want to put people in the ground, but here we are.
I'm back at Catalyst, and this time, there's no direct order to be here. This isn't work.
I'd hoped that coming here would keep me from going to her house and sitting outside. I'd hoped that she'd be mad enough for the way I acted earlier that she'd never come here again.
But I was wrong.
She doesn't care about her safety, and that's more than a little evident by the way she's once again strapped to that fucking cross.
This time, her eyes located me, and she turned them away. She isn't squeezing them shut like she normally would. Her hands are clenched into fists, but she's glaring off into the distance, proving that she knows I'm here and isn't looking at me .
The sight of it, the lack of her attention, makes my skin crawl. It makes me want to go to her, pinch her jaw, and demand that she look in only my direction.
I can't do that, however. That would be breaking the rules.
The indifference in the way her jaw is locked makes me want to throw a temper tantrum like a toddler not getting their way, and I know that says more about me than it does her.
If I were a regular guy with an everyday life and a normal history, it wouldn't matter as much. If I were different, if I were capable of caring for someone, this would be an entirely different situation. I could make her mine. I could promise her the world and give her whatever it is she thinks she's going to find in a place like this.
But I'm not normal. My past proves that any life I build will only be destroyed. Being linked to me only leads to tragedy, and it would be wholly unfair to drag someone else through the devastation.
Knowing all of this doesn't make things any easier for me. I can tell myself that I shouldn't even look in her direction, but I find it impossible to look away.
I know what my attraction to her means, and that alone should be enough of a red flag to stay miles away, but what does it mean for Eli?
If my past proves that I always pick the wrong person, that for some reason I'm only attracted to women who will do nothing but cause me heartache, what damage will she do to Eli?
The sane side of me knows better. I know I had bad luck with one person, but the fallout from her betrayal and her promise to stay safe destroyed every good part of me, and I can't trust any attraction I have going forward.
Things would be much simpler if I had never laid eyes on Caitlyn Rudd.
I can tick off the list of things I never should've done, but hindsight is always clearer, and there's nothing I can do about my actions in the past. All I can do is make the right choices going forward, and I know it's best for everyone if I keep my distance.
Maybe I'll be able to start tomorrow because I find it impossible to look away from her right now.
I lift my glass, my second and last of the night, and drain it, wishing they served something much stronger than whiskey. A lobotomy sounds good right about now.
However, good intentions mean nothing if there's no action behind them, and the sight of the other man circling her like she's prey makes me want to beat his fucking head in. Something I'm sure would get me extricated from the club. That, in turn, would cause problems with Cerberus because we're still doing our best to figure out if there's anything illegal going on here at Catalyst.
The whiskey swims in my gut, but it would take another gallon of the stuff in order to listen to my sensible side, the one telling me to mind my own business.
Caitlyn can have her attendant pull her off the cross. Besides, maybe she likes what's going on. She's here for a reason.
"She looks miserable," Lark says, reminding me that I'm not here tonight alone.
The fact that he's seeing her naked makes me want to pluck his eyes out, but that's territorial, ownership, a claiming, and I have no right to any of that.
Despite my internal battle and what I've tried to convince myself is the best course of action, I stand, letting my empty glass hit the table with a thud.
"Atta boy," Lark says, smiling when I turn to glare at him.
Just sitting idly by and watching other people circle and touch her after what happened between us is impossible. I need to get a closer look to see that she's getting exactly what she came for from these people.
As I approach, my thoughts turn sinister. Did this man follow her home one night? I've seen him around her before. Did she bend over and take his cock so easily as she did mine?
My hands clench into fists as I shorten the distance to the cross, angrier at myself for letting any of it affect me in the first place, but then I see her face.
I take in her clenched fists and the rigidity of her body as the man runs his finger over the tip of her soft nipple.
She hates it. She doesn't want this man touching her at all.
It makes no sense. She's up there for a reason. She has come here and allowed herself to be tied up over and over. Why is she not enjoying the attention she's getting?
Instead of asking him to take a step back or getting the attendant's attention to remove the man she clearly doesn't want near her, she just endures. It's like watching a torture session where the victim has been beaten down so much they no longer respond to pain stimuli.
Only she isn't immune, I realize, as a single tear rolls down her cheek.
"My turn," I tell the man, my words more of a growl.
The man turns to look at me but doesn't make any effort to step back.
"Ask him to leave," I say to Caitlyn. After a brief look in my direction, she once again casts her gaze across the room, effectively ignoring me.
The man, brazen with her open rejection of me, chuckles, and the sound claws at my skin. I'm certain it’s enough to leave open wounds. I step closer to him, ready to deal him his own dose of pain.
"Please step back. "
I turn toward the female voice, recognizing the same attendant who has been helping Caitlyn on the cross since the latest owner took over.
I obey, but the other man runs his hand along her back one last time, an action that seems to go unwitnessed by the attendant.
The man walks away as if no longer being able to touch her ruins it all for him.
I watch, waiting for her to acknowledge me, but after she's down and her robe wrapped around her, she simply gives me one look over her shoulder before walking away.
Instead of storming off and getting lost in my thoughts, something that used to be very uncommon for me before I met her, I simply wave to Lark to let him know I'm leaving. He’d decided to drive tonight after I left him here to figure out his own way back to the cabin the last time.
I step outside and make my way into the shadows. I need to talk to her. I need to see if I can find reasoning or some level of understanding as to why she affects me the way she does. As someone who has had control of their life for years, her being able to show up and change things for me makes no sense.
I've laid my eyes on many women in my line of work, and not once have I found myself incapable of walking away.
Caitlyn's level of nonchalant control over my every thought is enough to drive me mad, and I need to end it.
When the side door of the club opens, my heart skips at the sight of her, making me realize very quickly that this endeavor is going to be much more difficult than I originally thought it would. I know it's going to take more than simply demanding certain actions of my body and mind to clear her from them, and that only confuses me more.
I've had no problems walking away from anything in recent years. Hell, I walked away from ICE after ten years of service with only a simple five-minute conversation with Kincaid, the president of the original chapter of Cerberus .
Before I can make myself known, I see the guy who refused to walk away from her earlier step out of the shadows on the other side of the parking lot. He has been out here longer, and I have no doubt he saw me leave the club.
Does he have any idea I haven't left? Does he know I'm here watching?
What would he do to her with me here?
Jesus... what would he do if he thinks he's alone with her?
I decide to let things play out. Maybe her involvement with another man would be exactly what I need to witness in order to break whatever spell she seems to have over me.
I force my legs to lock in place as I watch, the analytical part of my brain seeing the difference in how she looks at him versus how she looked at me when she saw me standing on her porch last week. There's a vast distinction, and I know she isn't happy to see him. I have no clue if they've had any interaction outside of the club before, but it's clear she doesn't want to speak with him now.
I move, making my way across the parking lot, picking up my speed when the man wraps his fucking hand around her upper arm, making her wince in pain.
I'm on him before either of them realize I'm in their presence. Pulling my arm back, I let it fly, hitting the piece of shit right in the fucking nose.
He releases her, his hands coming up to his face. The craziest part of all is that he looks at me, confusion in his eyes, as if he can't understand why he was hit in the first fucking place. I swear men as a whole these days are so fucking entitled they don't even consider what they're doing is wrong.