Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2) Page 14

  By accepting my request and taking the mug, his hand was effectively gone from my back. I breathed a little deeper, grabbed a few napkins from on the bar like they were what I’d forgotten.

  “It was lovely seeing you, Mr. Mulroney,” I said, taking my drink back as I stood, not giving him the opportunity to try anything else. “I have to get back over to my friend though. We’re having a girls’ night.”

  Step two: let him know that he was unwelcome to follow me.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you back at Rock Beach while you’re here. Have a wonderful evening.”

  Step three: let him think he’d be able to see me again soon, when there was no way that was going to happen.

  Spinning on my heel, I beelined for Eve and the safety of our table, smiling calmly at my friend’s wide-eyed concern.

  “Is he following?” I asked quietly, sinking into the safety of my chair and setting our drinks down on the table.

  Eve gave a slight shake of ‘no’ and my breath escaped in a relieved rush.

  “Who was that?” Eve asked with a low voice but with a smile, giving the appearance she was talking about something completely different.

  I was about to respond when her question echoed behind me in a very growly, manly rumble.

  “Jules, who the hell was that? Are you alright?” Mick demanded, taking a commanding seat at our table, not even bothering to ask if the chair was open.

  I shivered at the raw possessiveness layering through his tone. I was glad he’d come over—even if Freddy was now glaring at me with a twisted expression on his face. The very large man sitting at our table cracking wide open the girls’ night line I’d just given him.

  I held my smile, refusing to give away that anything was amiss. “He’s just one of the frequent guests from the resort. He’s related to the mayor and a few congressmen, so I was trying to be polite.”

  “Darlin’,” he drawled with a harsh laugh. “I don’t give a damn whether his cousin is the Pope, he made you uncomfortable—he touched you—and right now, I want one good reason why I shouldn’t give Benny a new welcome mat by turnin’ his face into a permanent fixture on the floor.”

  My heart hammered its way right up into my throat.

  More than his accent, possessiveness coated each and every one of his words so loudly I was having trouble thinking straight. In fact, the only thing I could think was that I wanted to crawl rightionto his lap, kiss away his murderous frown, and show him there was nothing to worry about.

  This was the first time I’d seen him like this. The first time that his friendly giant persona dropped faster than my mother’s frown at the prospect of setting me up with an up-and-coming politician. No one I could think of, aside from maybe Mrs. Potts, would’ve ever offered to step in to protect me like this. Of course, my mother gave me tips on how to politely defend my own honor without causing a scene, but the little voice in the back of my head told me she would’ve sacrificed a lot—sacrificed me—if it meant saving face.

  Still, as giddy as his display of possessiveness was, I’d dealt with Freddy myself. I may have needed to hear how he’d swoop in and defend me, but that was different than actually needing him to.

  “Because I handled him and the situation in a way where no one got hurt. It’s really fine. He’s just had a few drinks. This sometimes happens at the resort.”

  I winced. Not like it made it any more acceptable for him to act like a pig.

  Unfortunately, money and status can sometimes buy you a blind eye, especially from my parents.

  His jaw tightened and released like a ticking time bomb and his hands remained clenched together on the table, fighting with himself not to turn around and punch a hole through Freddy’s face.

  I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t have. But I did.

  I reached my hand over the table and placed it gently over his clasped ones, feeling both the tension and heat coming off them in waves. My eyes shot to his, an instinctive reaction to touching him. It was quite possibly one of the most platonic gestures in the book and yet it felt like when I reached for him, I reached right down through the vulnerable crack in his collected, friendly exterior, and touched a piece of his soul.

  His nostrils flared. “It shouldn’t happen. Not to you.”

  “I’m okay,” I assured him with a softer tone, soothing the fuming protective beast that snarled in his eyes. His tension began to drain, replaced by a different sort.

  “Damn.” Dragging in a long breath, Mick sat back in the chair, disengaging his hands from mine and running one through his hair. Immediately, I reached for my drink, embarrassed that he’d pulled away from me again.

  It was hard to miss Eve’s quick ‘don’t give up’ glare to me when Mick’s focus momentarily shifted to his brother’s approach.

  “I thought you weren’t coming over?” Mick asked with an arched brow, his voice still gravelly with fading adrenaline.

  “Changed my mind,” Miles replied with a lazy smile, and I was the only one who noticed the way Eve’s cheeks turned pink. “Plus, the way that Easter egg is glarin’ at you, figured I might as well join the party.”

  “E-Easter egg?” I stammered, looking between the twins.

  When I saw the Madison brothers for the first time, they were repairing the bar in the clubhouse, and all I noticed were the similarities between them. Now, having been around them and their personalities, their differences were as great as the Grand Canyon; one look from the blue-eyed twin could turn my world on its axis while Miles’ hazel glance felt like nothing more than a cool breeze.

  “Miles…” Mick warned.

  Miles ignored his brother. “Easter egg. What we call the people who frequent your elaborate home.” His smirk grew as he explained, “Because it looks like the only way to get in is by having the Easter bunny shit his favorite pastel colors all over you.”

  I stared blankly for a second, hearing Mick swear underneath his breath. And then I burst out laughing, completely surprising them both.

  Truly, it could have been the two drinks, but the image of a giant Easter bunny pooping all over Rock Beach’s finest guests had me laughing until my sides burned.

  When I finally dragged in a few normal breaths, Miles was looking at me with a look of surprise and acceptance on his face. I knew why. He expected me to take what he said like an insult and respond like my mother would have, with some snide and demeaning retort about his worn attire and complete lack of class. He’d goaded me to see if I’d respond like the stuffy, secluded princess everyone thought I was.

  “You’re right.” I smiled. “And I have proof.” They all stared at me. “I know for a fact that when you crack them open, there’s only money inside.”

  The whole table roared with laughter, eliminating any lingering tension from my interaction with Riggs.

  “I’d be careful givin’ him more ammunition there, darlin’,” Mick warned, and my breath stuck in my throat.

  It was the first time he’d called me darlin’ in front of other people.

  “Yes, Jules,” Eve added with a devious grin. “Don’t egg him on.”

  I covered my mouth, tears balling at her ridiculous but well-placed pun. That was what I loved about Eve. She jumped right into any situation or conversation with full enthusiasm. And I caught a glimpse of the heated look that passed between her and Miles. There was definitely something that lingered there.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment, ladies. Don’t go anywhere,” Mick said, addressing that last part to me.

  As he walked toward the bathroom, the mood at the table shifted completely. The ripple of heat between Eve and Miles had vanished and Miles stared disinterestedly at the bar.

  “So—” Before I could even get one word out to strike up a new conversation, my phone began to buzz on the table, and I saw it was Gwen calling.

  “I’m so sorry guys.” I sent Eve my most apologetic stare as I stood and held up my phone. “It’s Gwen. I’m just going to go outside to tell her
we are still here. I’ll be right back.”

  And with guilt trailing me like a shadow for leaving those two alone at the table, I exited the bar and picked up the call.

  “Don’t worry about it, Gwen. We probably aren’t going to stay that much longer anyway,” I assured her through her effusive apologies for being stuck at work and unable to meet up. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  One more apology sprinkled in with her goodbye, and I hung up my phone, a chill running through my body an instant later.

  “Some girls’ night you’re having in there, sweet cheeks.”

  The chill hardened to ice in my veins. That’s where it had come from. Him.

  Slowly, I turned to see Riggs leaning casually against the side of the building, standing between me and the door back inside—back to the safety of my friends.

  I gave him my best unperturbed smile. “It did get interrupted by the Madison brothers. They’re the construction crew who were working on the clubhouse a few weeks ago, I don’t know if you saw the renovations. They stopped over to say hello.”

  I tried to play it off casually—threading the needle between truth and white lie. I didn’t really care what Riggs thought but the vile look on his face made my skin crawl, like I wasn’t protected or respected outside of Rock Beach.

  “Sleepin’ with the help now are you?” He sneered, staggering toward me. “Little Miss Royal Jules lowering herself to fuck Carmel’s commoners.”

  I stepped back. His tone and menacing glint in his eyes were something I’d never experienced before. On a normal day, Riggs Mulroney was a leering and self-centered pervert. But tonight, he was also drunk and insulted, and I was the one who was going to pay the price.

  He stepped closer, his gait growing increasingly uncoordinated. Making a split-second decision, I tried to dart around him before he had the wherewithal to stop me. But for someone who looked so tipsy on his feet, rage had a way of giving back to him the steadiness and swiftness that alcohol had taken.

  I let out a yelp as fat fingers clamped around my upper arm hard enough to bruise and he whipped me back against the side of the building. A pained cry exploded from my throat as my back slammed into the decorative stone façade—the only good thing was that my head hadn’t hit first.

  “Why you dirtying yourself with commoners, Jules?” he demanded with a sickeningly light tone.

  I choked on a response—stunned that someone I knew, someone who thought himself civilized, had just shoved me against a wall. Reality disappeared like sand in my grasp as his hand slid up over my shoulder and closed around my neck, making any answer impossible.

  “Is it because you like it dirty?”

  His face and disgusting breath drifted over my cheek, and I fought the nausea that rolled in my stomach but had no place to go.

  “That’s it,” he said as though I’d agreed with him. “The princess likes a hard, dirty fuck. Lucky for you, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  My body tensed as he pushed himself against me, his free hand reaching around my breast and squeezing hard.

  I cried out though his grip stifled and strangled the noise, and tried to push him away. At least it forced his hand from my breast in order to pin my wrist to the wall.

  “Don’t fight me,” he spat angrily. “I know this is what you want.”

  His hand cinched around my throat tighter, air hardly able to squeeze in. Blackness crept in from both sides of my vision and I felt him start to rub the hard nub of his erection against me. Acid eroded my throat and tears burned the corners of my eyes.

  In that moment where consciousness began to evade me, I thought how ironic it was that my mother always justified her reasons to limit my exposure to activities outside the resort because there were terrible people in the world who did terrible things that I knew nothing about, I’d been privileged to live in such a safe, wonderful place where only kind and civilized people were allowed in. How ironic that it was one of those very kind and civilized people who was choking the life from me so he could rape me.

  “Motherfucker.”

  The blackness bled from my sight and the heavy, stinking weight that was pressed against me disappeared.

  I blinked several times before being able to focus on Mick who’d yanked Riggs off me and crushed him into the side of the building.

  Mick had come to save me.

  The thought sent a searing hot pain through my head, and my hand pressed to my forehead as I sagged against the wall. It felt like a very painful déjà-vu—but it must’ve been from the lack of oxygen.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doin’?” Mick rasped, slamming a fist straight into Riggs’ shocked and sputtering face. “What the fuck kind of man treats a woman like that?”

  Riggs let out a pathetic high-pitched whine as Mick punched him again, a mixture of slobber and blood now running down his chin.

  I stood shell-shocked at what was happening. First, a guest from the resort—a person that I knew and who’d always treated me with respect—had just choked and tried to molest me. Now, the man I couldn’t stop thinking about, the man who thought I was too good for him, was beating that despicable guest to a bloody pulp.

  I’d never seen a man hit another man before, aside from in a movie. The swift sounds of flesh hitting flesh reminded me of when Mrs. Potts would take the bellman’s shoes after a rainy day of work and smack them together to get all the crusted mud off the bottoms before taking them inside to be cleaned and polished.

  “Mick!” Miles yelled, bursting out of the bar.

  This time, the roles reversed and Mick ignored his brother’s warning, continuing to lay punch after measured punch into Riggs’ face. If there were such a thing as polite punching, that was what this was.

  The most frightening people aren’t the ones who are chaotic and emotional in their rage, they’re the ones who are calm and collected as they dole out justice, their anger released in precisely measured and perfectly timed assaults.

  And every word, every hit, every grunt, showed that Mick knew nothing else of the world at that moment than trying to rid it of Riggs’ particular brand of scum.

  “Fucking hell, Mick!” Miles latched on to his brother’s arm, trying to yank him back as Mick pulled back for another strike to the man whose face looked like an Easter egg saturated with purple, blue, and red.

  Mick glared at his brother. Miles’ determined face fractured with the slightest amount of fear at what his twin was capable of—something he’d obviously never seen before.

  “Mick…” I choked out his name, my injured throat stinging with the effort.

  Blue eyes flickered with the hot flame, snapping to mine, and, like the sun breaking through the clouds, his whole demeanor changed; his furious trance broken.

  My eyes dropped, realizing I hadn’t even taken stock of myself. With a small whimper, I adjusted my shirt; it was yanked to one side, partially revealing my bra, Riggs had tried to pull it down over my breast. Trailing lower, my stomach turned, seeing the button and zipper of my jeggings undone.

  Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes as embarrassment flooded me.

  I had nothing to be ashamed of; I was the victim. Once more my voice had been taken from me, only literally, this time.

  With fumbling hands, I quickly righted my pants, protected by Mick’s intense stare the entire time.

  “Jules,” he rasped my name. Releasing his locked grip on Riggs who collapsed to the ground, Mick stalked over to me, tenderly cupping my face and scanning for damages.

  I shivered. How he managed to touch me so gently with such ferocity raging in his eyes was something that took my breath away.

  “I-I’m fine,” I assured him, feeling like it was what we both needed to hear. “I’m okay, Mick.”

  His thumbs traced over my lips, needing the physical proof of them moving to make him believe the words that they spoke.

  His face contorted into a mix of despair and disgust as his hands fell away and he turned ba
ck to his brother who was begrudgingly making sure that Riggs was still breathing, if a little—or a lot—worse for the wear.

  “What have I done?” Mick muttered with a strange sense of horror to his voice.

  My mouth dropped open, about to protest that he’d just saved me, that he’d been my hero, when he snapped at his brother, “Take Jules home, I’ll deal with him.”

  Miles looked up from where he knelt on the sidewalk. Then I noticed the few people who’d exited the bar and were watching us from a measurable distance.

  This was going to draw a crowd, and Riggs probably needed medical attention.

  “I think you’ve dealt with him enough,” Miles charged with a frustrated sigh, ignoring the curious stares. “You take her home. I’ll handle this.”

  “I can take myself home—” I started, forcing the words past the feeling of burning rocks in my throat.

  “No!” they both shouted at me before continuing their stare down.

  Miles stood and stalked over to his brother. “You can’t be here when the police get here,” he said, emotion making his voice more distinguishable when he added, “You can’t be here. You can’t have anything to do with this… or with her.”

  I stopped breathing, confused by the hushed discussion that I should have been a part of since it involved me. Why couldn’t Mick have anything to do with me?

  Mick

  “You can fucking argue with me later,” Miles snarled at me, his voice even lower as he pulled me to him. “Right now, you need to take her and get the fuck out of here. I will handle this. I will cover for you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the handful of people now crowded around that disgusting fucker. “Plus, this seems like more of a Miles-mishap anyway.”

  “You shouldn’t have to take the blame for this.” I stared hard into the mirror of my twin’s eyes. I was already pissed at myself for acting like a fucking animal, no matter how much that motherfucker deserved it, and now, guilt laid like a capstone on top of it all.

  First, Ace. Now, Miles.

  “Sometimes, little brother, even doing the right thing has consequences,” he replied with a heaviness that sank right into my bones, right into the genes that were exactly his own and felt the same acute pain he did. “So, it’s a good thing I don’t care about those anymore.”