A Dark Path – Chapter 16
It was nearly 10PM and he was still trying to assemble a barbeque grill on the patio when he heard a car pull into his drive. He wasn't expecting company so he met her at the door with a pistol in his hand. He couldn't be too cavalier about his safety. Even with Roman dead and Jack Reese out of the picture, Mickey Rayborne was still out there.
She was trying to get out of the car and he knew – before she said a word, before the smell of liquor hit him - that she as drunk. Not tipsy, not mildly under the influence, but stinking drunk. That she managed to navigate her car from her side of town to his without being pulled over or killing someone was nothing short of a miracle. Had he done this? Had the pressure taken her from a place of confidence to this? He put his pistol on the table in the foyer while she rounded her car, straightened.
She seemed shocked to see him. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"I live here," he replied neutrally stating the obvious. This seemed to throw her and she returned a bewildered look. "Dani?" he called her back to him as she drifted away, "why are you here?"
"I can't understand why I can't let go," her voice was cloudy but her message clear.
He wasn't sure who she meant – him or her father. He hoped against hope – she couldn't let go of him.
"Maybe you're not ready to let go," his hope helped her along, but remained neutral lest her quandary be about her father instead of her partner. He continued to be preoccupied with the thought, the hope that it was him she didn't want to let go of.
This made sense to her pickled brain. "You know what I'm not," she said angrily, "I'm not ready for this. Dammit! Why you do this to us, Crews?" she hit him in the shoulder. He didn't answer, so she hit his again and she kept hitting him. Until he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.
He felt her sag heavily against his chest and the fight go out of her. He gathered he against his arms and mumbled apologies interspersed with kisses into her soft brown hair. He shushed her and the house was quiet and still. Time stopped and they were just there – together. Neither really wanted to move on, but both knew they had to.
"Why do you always have to get drunk to come here?"
"I'm not brave enough to look you in the eye," she stumbled over the words and spoke into his chest, "I can't tell you how I feel without it."
"Yes, you can," he implored, "You've always been able to tell me anything,"
"I don't want to lose this, us, you. I think I….no, not think - I'm sure….I want you to…" she wandered off metaphorically. The wave of liquor coming off her could have gotten him drunk.
"Come on, " he steered her into the house, "let's get you to bed." She snickered a small laugh.
"I didn't mean like that," he qualified in a chiding tone.
"What if I did?" she questioned. She managed a pivot on his stairs, which was a remarkable feat considering her level of intoxication. His position a full step lower put her at his level and her arms wound around his neck, "what if I did?" Her voice was a husky murmur against his lips as she pulled him down to her.
He didn't resist; he didn't want to. He knew this was wrong; she was confused and drunk. This was only going to make things worse, but the moment her lips touched his he lost most of his argument. Conscious thought fled. He could still make out the taste of coffee on her lips and before he had time to fully realize it his mouth was fused her hers in a heated kiss.
Her tongue moved against his and she moaned need into his mouth. His desire was a horse charging from the gate. It covered ground in large leaps. His hands were in her hair and then her body was aligned with his. Just as suddenly her hands were on him and everywhere she touched was on fire.
His better angel sounded warning bells in his head and his conscience won out in the end as he gently pushed her back by her shoulders. "I want this, I want you, but we both know this is a mistake," he soothed her with his tone as his hand brushed hair from her face. "You know that don't you?"
She bit her lip and nodded, "I should go." She moved to flee and he stopped her physically.
"Uh-uh," he was stern. "How you got here without killing someone or being arrested is a miracle, but you're staying put now."
Her brow twisted in question. "How's that gonna work?"
"I'll sleep on the couch," he suggested.
"You think you have to?"
"Yeah," he sighed and ran a hand through his short red hair. "I don't think its safe for me to be in a bedroom with you,"
"We are so screwed up, Crews," she said sadly.
"We were both screwed up before we ever met," he argued, "but together we are like mixing drugs and alcohol." He reminisced about something wistfully that she didn't imagine him ever doing. "That's why I thought Tidwell was good for you, safe, clean, normal."
"Oh, is that what you thought?" She was angry again in an instant. She didn't want him deciding for her. She didn't want anyone choosing her life for her. "Did you ever stop to think that I don't want safe? I don't want normal? I can't do clean and safe? I know what living feels like on the edge, " she taunted, "I like it. It feels good."
"While it lasts," he countered his smile was both coy and melancholy, "but then what?"
"You're such a liar, " she shot at him. "All this crap about "living in the moment." Well here it is – the moment - and where are you?"
He hung his head and shook it. "You're 100% right, Dani. One hundred percent," he looked and locked her in a heated stare, "but what you're asking for is dangerous."
"I'm a big girl, Crews," she threw her best shot at him. "Or maybe all that time in prison made you prefer men," she was mean on purpose. Dani was good at this. Making things just about sex; making things mean and impersonal so she could walk away clean and not regret it. But this they'd both regret and she knew it – deep down she knew this was just another way to push him away, but one that worked.
His eyes flickered and narrowed. She'd struck deep and hit hard. The dangerous animal inside him was coaxed into the light. He reacted strongly, forcing her against the wall.
"You know damned well what I'm capable of," he hissed. "Don't push me," he threatened and her smirk was his undoing. He kissed her brutally. His body pinned hers against the wall as she clawed at him and struggled for control. It seemed like they were fighting; only what they both fought was internal. He pulled away and used his strong lean fingers to force her to look at him.
"Scared yet?" he was cruel and smiling.
"Not even close," she taunted and slapped him.
"Don't do this," he demanded. "Don't…."
She interrupted him, "don't what? Don't be fucked up? Don't not know what to do? I can't help myself. I can't not care?" she shouted.
"That's it," his tone was low and fierce. It brooked no argument. "You are going to bed and we'll finish this when you aren't drunk."
"I'm not that drunk," she taunted licking her bottom lip.
"Yeah, Reese," he said softly, "you are." He ended further discussion by throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs. He deposited her on the floor beside his vast bed and commanded, "Now stay here. Go to sleep. You come back down those stairs and I'll cuff you to the bed."
"How do you know I wouldn't like it?" she was spiteful and bitter.
"I'm sure you do, sweetheart," he was now in full control of himself, "but that's something we'll save for another time."
"In your dreams," she threw a shoe at him. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I'd ever fuck you Crews." She shouted at the slammed door.