I know exactly where Rebel is taking me before we’ve made it more than two blocks from work. I should have known he had something up his sleeve when he told Florence that he had plans for the evening, but I was too preoccupied with staying collected to put much thought into the remark.
Now I wish I would have been paying closer attention.
“Rebel, I just want to go home,” I say, releasing a pent up sigh as I glance across the seat to him. For the briefest moment, I consider playing the sick card, but why bother when we both know it was a lie.
Rebel is wearing that maddening smile of his that’s barely there, but still manages to send a shiver down my spine. It’s as devious as it is sexy. It tells me he has a lot on his mind, and it probably doesn’t involve clothing.
“That’s where we’re going,” he replies smoothly.
I roll my eyes in response. “Not your home.” My body begins to vibrate with rising anger, but I catch myself before I do or say anything that will ruin my plans. I have to see this through, even if it means going down paths that could hurt me in the end.
“You’d rather go to yours? Fine by me. I’ll have Gerardo turn the car around.” Leaning forward, Rebel lifts his hand to knock on the darkened partition. Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm, stopping him.
“No, your place is fine,” I tell him. In fact, it’s perfect. Being at Rebel’s place means that I won’t have to deal with him in mine or the memories it’s bound to turn up. Being at his though? I have more than a few bad memories to fall back on if I need something to keep me strong. It was in Rebel’s apartment that I learned I was sleeping with twin brothers. It was in his apartment that I saw Florence giving him a blow job. And it was in his apartment where those photographs he sent me originated.
Rebel’s hand reaches toward mine where it now rests on the black leather between us. I watch as his long fingers trace the tops of my fingers, the gentle caress of his skin against mine creating a coil of heat in my core and dredging up a moan from deep inside my chest. Somehow, I manage to get a hold of myself before it can come out, and I force it back down, determined to keep my head around this man. I can’t let this sweet, caring side that he’s suddenly adopted get me off track.
Stick to the plan, Josephine!
“You’re not afraid my brother will be there?” Rebel asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Will he be?”
“No.” The corners of his lips twist slowly, and I get the distinct impression that he’s hoping I’ll ask him to elaborate.
Fine, I’ll bite. “Is he teaching today?” I inquire. Although I’m not particularly interested in seeing Ransom, I have to admit that Rebel’s behavior intrigues me. Did something happen to Ransom?
“I wouldn’t know,” Rebel hedges, then, taking hold of my hand and pulling it onto his hard thigh, he laces our fingers together, his grip tight. “I kicked him out.”
My eyes shoot wide. “You what? Why?”
Rebel’s dark eyes meet mine and despite it being the middle of the day, it feels as if darkness has fallen. “I couldn’t continue living with him. Every time I look at him all I can picture is him fucking you. You have no idea how that screws with a man’s head.”
I can imagine. If either of them took a walk in my shoes? Well, let’s just say I doubt they’d be walking around looking so damn smug all the time. “Does he have anywhere to go?”
Rebel’s black brow arches a fraction as if he’s wondering why I’d ask such a question. “Are you hoping to stop by and do his laundry for him? Maybe give him a blow job while you’re at it?”
“No, I think that’s more your speed,” I snipe back, irritated that he’d draw that type of conclusion about me. It’s just more fodder for my revenge cannon. Yanking at my hand, I try to take it back, but predictably, Rebel refuses to let me go.
Drawing in a deep breath, he casts his gaze out the window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Taking his lead, I stare out my window. I may not have possession of my own hand, but he can’t force me to look at him. “Oh, yes, you did,” I bite out.
He inhales another deep breath, and then Rebel makes a liar out of me. I feel his body shift on the seat, and then he is grasping my chin and turning my head toward him. “Look at me, Josephine,” he commands when I continue to struggle against him. It’s disgusting how quickly I comply. It’s as if he has some kind of supernatural control over my body. All he has to do is use that voice, and I surrender completely.
“That’s better,” he murmurs, his midnight gaze holding mine. His thumb tracks across my bottom lip, smearing my lipstick as he watches. Everything that involves Rebel involves destruction. He’s destroyed my body and mind, and now, if I’m not careful, my spirit will be next. He knows exactly how to play me in order to get the results he’s looking for.
“Do you really think I would purposefully hurt you?”
“You have before.”
“Aside from the physical,” he says, exasperated.
“Again, you have before,” I tell him, staring him in the eyes. I want him to see just how badly he’s dug the knife in, but I also want him to see that he hasn’t broken me. If that was his goal, he’s lost. But the longer we stare into each other’s eyes, the more the doubt begins creeping in.
Rebel looks saddened by my words. Is he regretful of his actions...or did he just not realize that he was hurting me with them? I find both options difficult to believe. Rebel doesn’t do anything that isn’t deliberate. Every move he makes is calculated. He’s a very purposeful man.
“I’m sorry, pussycat,” he says softly, causing a twinge of misplaced warmth to slither into my chest. I draw back at the sensation, cautious not to allow it in too deep. “That was never my intention.”
Instant anger erupts in my gut, and I feel my body hum with it. I want to scream at him, to unleash all the hurt that’s built up inside of me so he knows what it feels like to be me. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop, giving me the out I so desperately need.
“I changed my mind,” I tell him as I throw open the door. “I can’t do this with you.” Fuck you. Have a nice life. Sayonara. They’re all responses that form on my tongue that I have to swallow back down.
At least I know where I’m at, and since it’s rush hour, there are cabs everywhere. It won’t take me long to catch one. It’s just a matter of whether or not Rebel will catch me first.
“Josephine, where in the hell do you think you’re going?” Rebel bellows behind me as I rush down the sidewalk, weaving my way through pedestrians. They’re giving me weird looks, making me feel like a criminal being pursued by the cops. “Get your ass back here and talk to me you stubborn...”
I hear the frustration in his voice. For a brief moment, it gives me pause, but I force myself to keep going. I can’t worry about his feeling right now when mine are so jumbled. What I need—desperately—is space.
I don’t know how long or how far Rebel chases me, but I eventually find a cab that’s pulling up to a curb a block away from Rebel’s apartment. As the passenger gets out, I grab the door before they can close it and hop inside. I tell the driver where to go, all the while searching for signs of Rebel, but I don’t see him anywhere.
I don’t breathe fully until I reach my apartment. Even then, I perform a thorough search, just in case he somehow found himself a key. Yes, my locks have been changed since Ransom was last here, but it seems important to remember not to put anything past either of them.
I head straight for the shower, turning the temperature up hot enough to burn my skin red, and it does wonders in silencing my brain. I need the quiet, especially after these last two days. The escape from my thoughts is welcome. It’s a challenge to keep them at bay when I lay down in bed for the night, though. I keep trying to picture this stupid black screen, but it just reminds me of Rebel’s eyes and hair and, well, pretty much everything about him, and I end up back at square one.
Remembering a trick that Annie once told me about, I focus my thoughts on something bright and cheerful. A meadow of daisies blanketed in sunshine unfolds behind my closed lids, but I struggle to hold onto it. Before I know it, Rebel is trudging through the flowers, smashing them all under his polished loafers as he comes for me.
It seems that no matter what I do, I can’t escape him. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.
Or maybe I really have lost my ever-loving mind.