“Yeah, baby. A massage. Figure lying on your stomach might hurt a bit with your sore ribs.”
She just stared up at him.
“You don’t like massages?” he asked.
“No, I like them,” she said hoarsely. She just wasn’t certain how she felt about having his hands on her. It was bad enough him being here in her room . . . touching her was a step too far.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what? Give you a massage?”
“No. Yes. All of it. I know you feel guilty for what you said to me the other night. But, the thing is, this would have happened to me no matter what went on between us. You said this was Spencer’s fault and you’re right, it is. There’s something wrong with him. Something violent and dark. But you don’t have to do any of this . . . take responsibility for me, sleep in my bedroom, or offer a massage. I can look after myself. And what you said . . . it was only the truth. You don’t want me, and I need to stop living in dreamland.”
“You’re wrong,” he told her. “I’m not here out of guilt over what happened to you. But I do feel guilty about I said.”
“You don’t have—”
He reached over and placed his fingers against her lips. “Let me speak, sunshine. This isn’t easy, what I have to say. Can you just let me say it?”
Eyes wide, she nodded. She had a feeling whatever he was about to say, she really wanted to hear.
“I fell in love once. A long time ago. Before we lived here, we lived in Detroit. My dad,” he gave a bark of unhappy laughter, “my dad wasn’t a good guy. He liked to gamble and drink. He got into deep debt with some really bad people.”
He reached for her good hand and took it gently between his. The heat of his skin seared her and even though she was exhausted, she felt her body stir. Having West Malone sitting so close wasn’t something even her tired, sore body could ignore.
“He was an accountant. He started working for the Marceras family in lieu of paying off his debt. And once you’re in the family, you don’t leave. Not that he wanted to. That lifestyle suited him. But then the head of the family tried to recruit Alec. He was only sixteen.”
“Oh, shit.”
“He wasn’t interested in working for Marceras. When he refused, he figured they’d beat him. Maybe try to kill him. Instead they hit his weak spot. Us. They dragged in Beau and cut his finger off in front of Alec. Alec started working for them that night.”
“Oh my God.” She felt ill at the thought. And that must have shown on her face because he frowned slightly.
“You know what, this isn’t something you need to hear right now.”
“Please, I think I do.”
He frowned. “Don’t want to add to your nightmares.”
“West, I’ve had nightmares almost every night since my parents were taken by those rebels and beheaded. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’m stronger than I look.”
West’s jaw clenched tightly, and he looked away. “He ever send you to someone to talk about these nightmares?”
“A therapist?” She barked out a laugh then groaned a little as her body protested. “No.”
He returned his gaze to her. He studied her for a long moment then, to her surprise, he continued on.
“So Alec started working for the family. He tried to keep us out, but Marceras wasn’t having that. He’d invite us over for family get-togethers. That’s where I met her. Lana.”
She sucked in a breath. She could hear the pain in his voice. This was the woman Mia had spoken of. This Lana was West’s one.
“There was just something about her that drew me in. She had this laugh—it was ridiculous, so deep it almost sounded evil.”
“She had an evil laugh?” she asked incredulously.
“I know. Sounds silly but that’s the first thing I noticed about her. That evil laugh. She didn’t mean it to be. Lana was sweet. But shy, so painfully shy. Those first few get-togethers, I never even noticed her because she was doing her best to blend into the background. Until I heard that laugh.”
Did it make her a bad person to be jealous of sweet Lana with the evil laugh? Probably. Especially since she knew something bad had happened to her.