Tin

CHAPTER EIGHT

RIKER

“Hey. You wanna go out and grab a beer with me?”

I picture Sid doing a double take, staring at her phone in disbelief. “What? You want to go out? Like, in public? What if people see you, Riker? They might realize you’re not dead after all.”

She thinks she’s so fucking funny.

“Nobody thinks I’m dead, Sid. Crazy, sure. And missing. Isn’t that a thing too? Whatever. I want to get out of the house. And drinking alone will only fuel the rumor mill, so are you in or what?”

She laughs. “Yes, of course I’m in. Where do you want to go?”

I stare at the fridge blankly. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. “I don’t care. Somewhere on the main drag? Near the water?”

I hear a horse snort in the background. She’s still at the ranch.

“Sounds good. Give me an hour and I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

My eyes automatically travel to my mattress. “Nah, that’s fine. I can just meet you.” I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to risk being stranded if there’s any chance at all of seeing Quinn tonight.

“That works too. See you in a bit.” She hangs up and I’m back to standing in my kitchen, aimless and annoyingly unsure of what to do with myself. What the fuck did I do with my time before Quinn filled every waking second of it?

QUIN N

I’m sitting here staring at Carson Winn and wondering who in the hell thought this would be a good idea. It’s not that he’s unattractive. I mean, I think he’s probably attractive. I’m not attracted to him, but I would be happy to believe other women are.

As expected, he showed up wearing a suit. No tie, but still. Very proper. I was almost relieved I gave in to Kirsten and wore the dress.

Aside from the nearly formal wear, Carson is completely clean shaven with short black hair and brown eyes. He’s tall and definitely hits the gym. He’s got the gym body. Not like Riker who has the hard work body. And yeah. There’s a difference. Personally, I prefer the latter. But this isn’t a competition. There’s no comparing the two, and I knew long before I ever even met Carson that I’d rather be spending the evening with Riker.

Nevertheless, here we are and I’m doing my best not to embarrass Kirsten. I’m listening politely and nodding every time I count to ten while Carson tells me all about his work and golf, the real passion of his life. Apparently, he’s really good. I’m assuming. He could be speaking another language for as much as I’m understanding.

He interrupts his story to point at my nearly untouched dinner. “Are you enjoying your beef bourguignon?”

“Oh. Yes.” I hastily reach for my fork and enthusiastically stab a slice of meat with it. “I’ve just been so engrossed in your stories I guess I forgot to eat.”

His head practically expands as my little lie goes straight to his inflated ego.

“You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” He smiles. Not a nice smile. It’s an icky smile that makes my insides churn. Then his eyes travel below my collar bone while his finger rounds the rim of his scotch glass, and I’m certain I can’t force down another bite of my food without throwing it up .

I do my best to smile back. “I can only imagine how many people have missed a meal because of you.”

As expected, he mistakes my insult for charm. “Yes, well, I’ll be sure to make up for it when the time comes for dessert.”

Seeing an easy out, I place my fork down in a hurry. “Oh, to be honest, I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

Carson’s menacing grin widens as he covers my hand with his, then leans over the table. “Who said anything about eating?”

I’m too stunned to even speak. And that never happens. What the fuck? Clearly, Nate doesn’t know this asshole as well as he thinks. Or else Kirsten doesn’t know Nate. Because there’s no way in hell my sister would have purposely set me up with pervy creeper over here, no matter how respectable his job and family are.

Clearly mistaking my silence for some sort of a yes, Carson flags down our server and pays our tab. Before I know it, we’re out in the parking lot walking toward his Chrysler 300. As if the drive here wasn’t bad enough, the drive home is going to be that much more awkward when he finds out I intend to go straight back to Kirsten’s place.

I’m standing beside the car waiting for him to open the door when I feel his hand on my back, then quickly move down over the curve of my ass.

“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?” I take a step forward to get out of his grasp, a mistake I realize too late, because it only places me deeper into the darkness between his car and the Suburban parked beside him. My heart begins to race, and it takes every ounce of effort I have to keep reminding myself that I’m here. In the present. I’m safe. I’m with a gross guy. But I’m safe. I’m safe .

“Come on, Quinn. There’s no reason to play coy with me.” Carson takes another step to close the distance I just placed between us. His hands are already touching me again. This time they start at my waist. But they’re roaming, so there’s no telling where they’re headed next.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your fucking hands off me.” I shove him hard in the chest, and he stumbles. He didn’t see it coming this time, but I won’t have that same advantage again.

“Would you chill the fuck out? Nate already told me all about you, sweetheart. So there’s really no reason to keep up this little act of yours. Just relax and we’ll both have a good time. I promise.” He leers at me, and my skin crawls.

“What exactly did Nate tell you?” I fight the urge to back up any farther. There’s nothing behind me except a brick wall I can’t get over or around.

Carson chuckles. It sounds downright evil, and it makes me feel dirty just having heard it. “He just explained why you came here. How you had to leave your hometown because of your reputation there and that Kirsten insisted you move in with her and Nate to get a fresh start.” He grips my chin with his thumb and finger. “It’s cool. I won’t tell anyone your little secret. They don’t even have to know about us hooking up. Although, truth be told, that would probably go a long way in fixing your bad rep.”

I close my eyes, certain he’s about to kiss me. I don’t want to see it. Don’t want to know what he looks like as he closes in on my lips with his. His disgusting lips. And his disgusting hands as they move up my waist and under my rib cage.

Shock is setting in, leaving me completely frozen and at his mercy. I have no choice but to simply zone out. I can do this. I can let go long enough to survive this. I’ve survived worse, so I know it won’t kill me. It won’t even hurt. Because I won’t fight. I’ll just disappear. He can do whatever he wants with my body. I won’t be in it. Damn it. I don’t want to be in it.

But I am. Because I can feel him. Can feel his mouth moving over the skin on my neck. He’s sloppy, leaving a wet trail behind, which runs cool as the evening breeze catches it the same way it does on my damp cheeks. Tears. Silent sobs ripple my chest as he continues to touch and caress me in ways that make me ache at the core of my being.

“Quinn?”

The sound of his familiar voice rips me out of my trance. My eyes open and search for his, locking on them instantly.

But I’m not the only one who takes notice of him.

“Do you mind, asshole?” Carson barks. “How about some fucking privacy?”

Riker’s still staring at me. Then, slowly, his gaze moves to Carson, turning hard. And terrifying. I’ve never seen him like this. He barrels straight for Carson, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as he practically carries him to the edge of the lot, then slams him into the brick wall.

“I’m going to kill you! You hear me? I’m going to fucking kill you!” He shakes Carson, repeatedly ramming the back of his head into the stone.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Carson tries to fight back, but it’s pointless. He may be taller than Riker, but height is nothing compared to brute strength fueled by emotions so deep and dark I know Carson doesn’t even have the capacity to feel.

Riker ignores his request to be let go and looks over his shoulder at me, still keeping Carson pinned in place. “Call the police. Right now.”

His tone is completely different from ten seconds ago. Even the ferocious glare in his eyes is gone. There’s something else there now. Sadness. Worry. Pain. It’s even more terrifying than his anger .

“I can’t.” I shake my head. It’s the first time I’ve been able to move since Carson first assaulted me.

“Yes, you can,” Riker reassures me calmly.

But he’s wrong. The tears continue to stream down my face because now I’m not the only one being hurt by this. Riker’s in it too. He won’t walk away untouched by this, and that knowledge is enough to make me want to dissolve into a puddle on the cold, hard pavement. “I can’t call the police. I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t.” I don’t know what else to say.

He doesn’t understand. “Why not? Quinn. I saw what he was doing. I saw it!” He nearly chokes on the words, forcing them out through clenched teeth.

“Please,” I beg. “Just let him go. And take me home.” I timidly place my hand on his shoulder. “Please.”

Carson hasn’t said a word since realizing Riker has the upper hand between them.

Still holding him by his shirt, Riker begins to move him into a more natural position again, letting him put weight evenly on his feet.

“You listen to me, you piece of shit. You never, never touch her again. I ever see you so much as walking in her general vicinity, I will come after you. And I promise you, Quinn won’t be able to save your sorry ass a second time.” He doesn’t wait for Carson to answer. Just releases his grip on the now-ripped dress shirt and then turns away.

Riker’s barely reached my side when Carson comes at him from behind. All I see is Riker’s fist swinging past my face and making impact with Carson’s jaw. Two more punches and he hits the pavement, giving no indication that he’ll be able to get to his feet again anytime soon .

“Quinn. Quinn!” Riker’s hands are firmly on my shoulders, holding me in place. “Quinn. You need to take a breath for me. Okay? Deep breath. Come on. You can do it.” His deep voice is calm in spite of everything else around us.

I try to do what he says, but my whole body is shaking so hard I think I might be having convulsions. Unable to do anything but nod, I close my eyes and try to retreat to somewhere within. Somewhere far, far away from here.

I’m already drifting off into the black abyss that is my soul when I vaguely take note of being carried. I can smell him. Feel his skin on mine. The stubble on his jaw brushing against my forehead. And I start to come back. Because there’s nowhere safer than here. With him.

Next thing I know, I’m sitting in his old Ford pickup and listening to the sound of his voice. He’s talking to someone. It’s not me. He’s on the phone.

“Sorry, Sid. I know it was my idea. I feel like an ass, believe me, but I can’t make it. Not tonight.” Out of the corner of my eye I watch him push the phone across his dash. It slides until it gets stuck right below the windshield.

“I ruined your plans,” I croak.

His hand reaches out to rest on my leg, squeezing it lightly. “You didn’t ruin anything. Besides, you know damn well I’d rather spend the night in with you than be out with anyone else.” He smiles, but it’s not the same as before. He’s not the same as before. Because of what he saw. He’ll never be able to unsee it. And he’ll never be able to look at me the same because of it.

“Thank you.” The words seem hollow in comparison to what he did. But they need to be said, so I say them.

He just shakes his head. “No. Don’t thank me for doing the only acceptable thing.” The hand he has on the steering wheel curls into a fist before it flattens out again, slamming into the rim. “Fucking Carson Winn! Motherfucking piece of shit!” Then out of nowhere, he turns toward me, anguish in his eyes. “I swear if I had known he would do something like this...that he was capable, Quinn, I never would have let it get this far.”

“What are you talking about?” My throat clenches up mid-sentence as another tsunami of emotions threatens to take me down. “This was not your fault. If anything, it was mine.”

Riker doesn’t say anything. He just yanks the steering wheel to the side and then slams on his brakes, parking on the shoulder. He pulls me into his lap, cupping my face in his hands, and leaves a trail of kisses from my temple down to my chin, until he finds my lips and covers them whole with his.

“Nothing about what happened tonight was your fault, Quinn,” he whispers. “Nothing.”

I suck in a ragged breath and squeeze my eyelids shut. He kisses them too.

“I want you to hold me.”

His arms are wrapped around me tightly. “I am holding you.”

I open my eyes again and meet his gaze. “No. Not like this. I want to feel you. The weight of your body on mine. The warmth of your skin. I want it all. I need it. Please.”

Riker doesn’t say anything. He just turns the key in the ignition and shifts into drive, pulling the truck back onto the road while I stay where I am, my head resting on his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart all the way back to his place.

Once inside, neither of us says anything as he unzips my dress and lets it fall to the ground, where I step out of it on my way to his bed. I lie back onto the mattress while he takes off my shoes and removes his own clothes .

It’s the first time we’ve ever undressed without any sense of urgency. Without a basic need for one another. Now the need is one sided. I need him. And he pities me. That maybe hurts worse than anything else that happened tonight. Even if Carson didn’t get what he wanted, he still succeeded in taking something from me.

Before tonight, Riker didn’t know. He was the one person in my godforsaken life who didn’t look at me and see someone weak and broken. Damaged. I needed that. I needed him to just accept me at face value, never questioning my past. Never expecting a future. Now that’s gone. I can see it in his eyes. Feel it in his touch.

He cares. Maybe more than he should. More than I want him to. But things have shifted. We’re not equals in this anymore. He’s become the caregiver. I’ve become the victim. I hate being the victim. And as absurd as it sounds, I’d so much rather he was using me for sex right now, instead of caring so much that he’ll never want to touch me again out of fear he might hurt me too.

I tilt my head up from where it’s nestled to his chest. “Thank you.”

His fingers gently dance over my shoulder. “I already told you not to tell me that.”

It’s the opening I was hoping for. I lift myself up and move my leg over his hips to straddle him. “Then let me show you instead.”

He looks confused. “What are you doing?”

I bend down to kiss him. “What we always do.”

But he turns his head. “No, Quinn. Not tonight. Not after what happened.” He lifts me by my waist and sets me back down on the mattress beside him.

“But nothing happened. You stopped him.” I’m lying of course. Something happened. A lot happened. So much more than he could possibly even know happened. But I want to erase it from my mind. His mind. I want to erase it right out of existence, and there’s only one way I know how to do that. “I’m fine. I swear.” I can feel the lump in my throat growing as it climbs. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of him again.

“No. You’re not.” He scoots himself up against the wall, not quite sitting upright, but enough to face me full on. “And who would be, Quinn?”

I want to punch him. I want to scream. Why is he making this so much more difficult than it already is? “Stop it! No one asked you to worry about me. The only thing I come here for is sex. So if you’re not going to fucking screw me right now, I might as well put my fucking clothes back on and get out of here!” I have every intention of getting up in a huff and stomping out of his apartment, but he’s already got a hold on me and he’s not letting me go.

“I’m not worried about you.” He flips me onto my back and moves over me, encasing me with his entire body like a cocoon. “I’m merely doing what you asked me to do earlier. Holding you.” The whole time he speaks, his tone never reflects even an ounce of emotion. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m the one whose feelings are running amok and fucking everything up. But I can’t stop them. And I’m too desperate to care that I’m begging him to sleep with me now.

“Please.” With his weight on me, I can’t even move my arms, so my hands are pressed to my chest. My heart’s pounding so hard and fast I think it’s trying to escape. And I can appreciate the sentiment. That’s all I want too. “Please, Riker. I just...I need you to still want me. If you stop, if you can’t see me as anything but this fragile, wounded woman, then that’s what I’ll become. I don’t want to be her. I want to be the girl who struts in here owning the room because of the way you look at me. Please. I can’t lose that. You can’t let Carson take that. It’ll be worse than anything else he could have done to me tonight.” I’m gasping for air, trying to stop the tears. I have no choice but to look at him looking back at me, because we’re so close there’s nowhere else to aim my eyes. So I close them. And he kisses me.

Hard. With a need so overwhelming it’s almost desperate, and I feed it with my own frantic urgency.

“Feel that?” His raspy growl is strained and breathless as his mouth hovers right above mine. “I know you do. That is me wanting you with every fiber of my being. But I'm not going to have you. Not tonight. Tonight, I'm just going lie here, holding you in my arms. Feeling your vulnerable and exposed body against my bare skin. Wanting you more and more with each passing second because you're the sexiest goddamn woman I've ever laid eyes on.” And the hunger in his eyes flares wildly as he says it. “But I'm not going to have you. Because I need you to know that a real man can respect your boundaries. A real man knows that your body is sacred, and his physical needs are not. And because consensual sex is never about exerting control over someone else to get what you want. It's about being in control of yourself. So yes, believe me, I still want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman in my entire life. But I want you to want me for the right reasons. In the right way. Because there's no way in hell I'm going to connect what we have when we're together to what happened in that parking lot tonight.”

His lips taste salty when he brushes over mine, and I know I’ve been crying again. I don’t care anymore. Nor do I care that I know that from here on out we’ll be lying every time we claim we mean nothing to each other. It won’t keep us from lying any more than it will keep me from knowing the truth.