Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

I was so stupid. I knew better than to maroon myself anywhere. Tomorrow I would rent a car so I had my getaway. This was no longer a Torus job, I could leave at any time, and the more I thought about everything, the worse it got, until I knew I had to go. Pulling out my phone, I began searching for a cab company that would come and get me.

The doorknob turned, then again, then jiggled back and forth. Someone bumped it from the other side, but I didn’t make a sound.

“Loc?”

I concentrated on breathing.

“Loc,” Nick growled and banged on the door. “Let me in.”

It took a second, and when I spoke, it came out choked and hard. “Not right now.”

“Why are you mad? Why the hell would you be mad?”

“Just go away,” I ordered, hearing the humiliation and hurt in my voice, hating how vulnerable I sounded.

“I’m not going anywhere!”

“Keep your voice down,” I rebuked him, crossing the room to the nightstand and flipping on the small lamp there. “Show some respect for the people whose house you’re in.”

“I’m not the one—let me in!” he demanded, his voice booming.

I rushed back to the door. “Why don’t you go back downstairs and talk about me some more. That should be good for another laugh.”

“What are you—did I embarrass you, talking to Dez?”

Of course he had. “Yeah,” I croaked out. “All that talk about how important I was to you was just a load of shit I guess, huh, kid?”

“Kid?” he repeated, his voice dropping low, incredulous and icy. “What the hell are you—how many fuckin’ drinks did you have?”

“Go away,” I ordered him a second time. “Go back to the party. I’ll be outta here in just a bit, and you can go find a new––”

He kicked the door, hard. “You want a scene? I’ll make a scene. And it’ll look great in the documentary. Everyone, everywhere, will know you’re a fuckin’ lunatic!”

I took another breath. “You hurt me.”

There was quiet, and then the door creaked like he was pressing his weight against it. “I have no idea what’s going on in your head,” he said, and I could hear the desperate pitch in his voice, like he was working really hard not to freak out. “But if you think I’m just going to allow anyone, friend of the family or not, to be all over you, you’ve lost your fuckin’ mind.”

The hell was he talking about?

Levering off the door, I turned and unlocked it, then threw it open to find a seething Nick Madison standing there with his hands fisted at his sides.

“What do you want?”

He shoved me back, and I was suddenly annoyed that he had all that new defined muscle so he could move me if he wanted to. He slammed the door behind him. “What the hell is going on with––”

“Why did you tell Dez that I like to be fucked instead of doing the fucking?” I snarled at him before I turned and walked to the window, looking down at the now small crowd still milling around the tables.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled, reaching me and yanking on my shoulder so I had to turn to face him.

“You were talking to him and laughing and––”

“How many beers did you have?”

“I’m not drunk, I know what the hell you were saying.”

“No, I can guarantee you don’t. I saw you. You were bored, so you were drinking, and then probably got to thinking something really stupid, like I don’t need you here, because you’re a fucking idiot.”

“I’m the idiot?”

“Yeah,” he railed, stepping in close, taking a breath. “You’re stupid if you think I would ever tell anyone what goes on in our bed. That’s between you and me alone. Just us. It has nothing to do with anyone else, and no one but me and you have a right to know.”

I searched his face for any sign of a lie, and found none.

“How dare you think something so vile about me?” he scolded, and I could hear the frustration and anger in equal parts. “You know better. You know me better.”

God. Had I misread it? Had Dez’s laughter been nervous instead of chiding? Had Nick forced a smile as he threatened him? Had that entire interaction flown right over my head?

“You were talking to Dez and looking at me, and he was laughing, and I––”

He took hold of my face with both hands and met my gaze. “I told him, ‘You see that ring on Loc’s hand—that’s my ring. He wears that because we’re together, just us, just him and me, and if you want to be here and stay part of my world, then show that bond the respect it deserves,’” he said flatly, his breath hitching as his brows furrowed. “‘Laughing, teasing, that’s great. You hit on him and you’re dead to me.’”