Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, cracked the seal, chugged half of it back then set it down next to his bag.

I wrung my hands together. “You really don’t remember me?”

His expression remained the same, which meant expressionless. “Listen, bitch, if you’re not here to suck my cock, then get the fuck out.”

“What?” My heart tore into shreds as I stared at this man I hadn’t seen in seven years, but loved every single day since. He’d never talk to me that way. Ever. He had to remember. He had to. “Connor,” I whispered as I moved toward him.

He tensed, eyes narrowing as he watched me, but he didn’t move. I stopped when I was an inch away and he had to tilt his head down in order to keep his eyes on me. “You loved me.”

He snorted, brows knitting and lips tight. “You’re delusional.”

I placed my hands on his chest, closing my eyes as the touch of him erased the years of separation.

I shouldn’t have. He told me not to touch him and I hadn’t listened.

He grabbed my upper arms, grip bruising, fingers that would leave marks on my skin. “Told you not to fuckin’ touch me.” I winced, but refused to cry out in pain. “I tell you when you can touch me and where. And right now, you’re pissing me off and I don’t even want my cock sucked by you, bitch.”

It didn’t matter what he did to me. All I cared about was getting through to him. “Connor, you have to listen to me. They’re giving you a drug. This isn’t you.” I was frantic now as he glared at me, his hands so tight I was sure he’d break my bones. “Toronto. Go to Toronto. Deck. Deck…” Shit, I didn’t know his last name. Connor had always called him Deck. “Deck is your friend. He’ll help you.” I inhaled a long, ragged breath. Oh, God, that wasn’t good enough. “Please. Just leave Colombia. Get away from Carlos. He’s not a good man.” Tears slipped down my cheeks from the pain, but more than that was the agony of seeing Connor like this.

He’d forgotten me.

He’d forgotten everything.

“You called me shutterbug,” I cried, my voice breaking.

His eyes widened for a split second then he abruptly released me and stepped back, his hands going to his head. “Get out. Get the fuck out.”

I saw it. It was there on the cusp, the sliver of something.

So, I didn’t leave. I pushed. “Georgie. She’s your sister. She’s in Toronto. That’s where you grew up. You went into the military with Deck.” I rambled on faster. “And your favorite color is blue like me because it reminds you of the ocean and how powerful it can be and calm and peaceful at the same time. You love every flavor of ice cream and hate carrots because you hate the color orange. Like really hate it.” He stalked toward me, eyes wild and tumultuous. I stepped back as I stammered on. He had to remember. People didn’t forget these things. “You buried your sister’s hamster in the backyard when she was ten.” What was the name he told me? It was something odd, like a food or… “Fiddlehead. His name was Fiddlehead and you’d rescued him from the science lab.”

My back hit the door and I reached behind me for the doorknob, my eyes on Connor as he continued to stride slowly toward me. I lifted my chin, breathing ragged.

His arm rose, hand curled into a fist.

Oh, God, he was going to hit me. I held my breath and turned my head, ready for the blow, but it never came. His fist smashed into the door beside my head.

“You talk too much.” His fingers weaved in my hair and then he fisted his hand, jerking my head back. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No,” I whispered.

His other hand roughly ran down the front of me, over my breast to my ribs then my abdomen to between my legs. My nightgown bunched as he cupped me—hard.

I couldn’t move. My body instantly recognized him and tweaks erupted between my legs. “Do you remember?” I whispered.

He scowled. “Bitch, there’s nothing to remember. Shut the fuck up about it.”

“Then why—”

He didn’t let me finish. “Haven’t fucked a chick in… don’t know how long. Never think about it.” He moved in closer so his chest was pressed against mine and I trembled. “Now I’m thinking about it. Open your legs for me.”

I barreled down on the crook of his arm with my fist and dislodged his palm from between my legs. “I didn’t come here to fuck you.” I elbowed him in the chest, but he was immovable. I knew that. He’d used his weight to get what he wanted all the time and I’d fought him. But it was playful. This wasn’t playful. “Carlos will kill you and me if he finds out.”