27. Reasons Shawn Vamos Should Walk Off a Bridge

TWENTY-SEVEN

#34 he dosnt take no for an ansewr

To my surprise, Carrick didn't walk home with me, but instead veered down a side street in search of "more fun." I wasn't sure what he was looking for at this hour, but I had a feeling it would come with a hotel room. I couldn't help being relieved that I didn't have to continue our conversation. I had enough to think about besides trying to act at least a little competent in front of Nathan's bully of a brother.

It was almost four in the morning by the time I rounded onto Riverside Drive. Across the river, the few lights glimmered off on the New Jersey side of the Hudson. They looked so peaceful. As if they were calling me to join them.

"Reminiscing about the good days, Sunshine?"

The voice startled me as I turned and saw Shawn Vamos step out of a shadow cast against Nathan's stately brick building.

I stepped back. At this time of night—or early morning—the street was fairly empty. Riverside didn't get much foot traffic, and while cars still flew by on the parkway, no one else was around to see our conversation except maybe the occasional garbage trucks getting to work.

Right now, it was just us.

Every tiny hair stood up on the back of my neck. "Shawn. What are you doing here?"

Shawn shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I wanted to make sure you got home safe. Since your boyfriend didn't."

I stepped back. Something in his voice didn't sound right. His eyes didn't look right either.

"You're drunk," I told him. "And probably high."

Shawn barked a laugh, too loud and intense. "Brain surgeon over here," he joked to absolutely no one. "What other gems you gonna point out, Sunshine? The sky's blue? Grass is green?"

"How about you're a dick?" I snapped.

"You already knew that one," he said, making a sudden grab for my wrist and pulling me to him. "Never stopped you before. In fact, I think you liked it."

"Well, it's stopping me now," I said as I tried to shove him away. "What don't you get here? I don't want you anymore. I don't care about the tape or whatever else you have on me. I'm taken, and he won't care about that anyway. You always said you don't want another man's sloppy seconds, so keep one shred of your dignity, and let me go."

"I don't think so."

The duffel dropped to the ground as Shawn pushed me against the darkened wall, where he'd been standing before, hard enough that my head smacked the brick, and I saw stars. His hands roved all over my body as he pressed rubbery lips to my neck and mouth.

How I'd ever been attracted to this, I couldn't fucking imagine.

"No," I said as I struggled in his grasp. "No!"

"You asked me what I want," he slobbered into my ear. "And I thought about it. I said you belong to me, Sunshine. I think you need to be shown."

"Get off!" I shoved him back, but it did no good. Shawn wasn't a bodybuilder, but he was still stronger than me.

He shoved one hand under my coat, groping like a teenage boy while his teeth bit into my neck like a clumsy coyote. He smelled like cigarettes and cheap booze, and his breath rattled like it was trying to keep up with a heart beating far too fast. I struggled, tried to kick out, but it was no good. I was pinned with nowhere to go.

It hadn't always been like this. In the beginning, he'd been sweet. Suave. Careful, even in the back of his car. Fingers that teased, a voice that crooned, convincing me that he was safe in ways no one else could be. That version of Shawn came and went over the years, but it was always in reserve, waiting in the wings to bring me back in after this version chased me away.

It had all been a game, this give-and-take. A ploy to manipulate a young girl the same way a charmer might hypnotize a snake.

And now it made me sick. And enraged.

"Get off me!" I shrieked again, this time directly into his ear.

I was quickly rewarded by a hard slap across the face.

"You need to shut the fuck up and remember your goddamn place, you little whore!" Shawn shouted.

"And you need to take your hands off my fiancée."

Nathan's deep voice thundered into the night, and before I knew it, Shawn's body was whipped off mine and smashed into the brick. Two quick punches to his gut, and he was crumpled over, gasping for breath just before Nathan pinned him by the neck with a powerful forearm.

I recognized the move—it was the same one he'd used on Carrick. But while that little tussle had been a warning, playful enough that Carrick had enjoyed it (and, I suspected, baited Nathan into it), this one was more than a threat. It was pure violence. Death balanced on a knife's edge.

Nathan quickly restrained Shawn's other hand above his head, a fucked-up parody of intimacy against a wall.

"Listen well, you worthless, predatory fuck," Nathan gritted, his voice barely intelligible in the dark night air. "Joni isn't yours. She doesn't belong to anyone. But she does, however, have my protection, which means that if I ever see you breathe in her direction again, I will snap your neck and throw you into the sewer for the rats to eat. You touch her again, you die. Do you understand?"

Shawn wheezed, eyes bulging.

Nathan, however, was unforgiving as he rammed his arm harder against Shawn's neck. "Do. You. Understand?"

The air seemed so stiff, I could shatter it with a hammer as I watched Nathan, and Nathan watched Shawn. Shawn's gaze, however, bounced between the two of us, but eventually, he nodded and flapped his hands in a weak sign of surrender.

Nathan loosened his hold just enough for Shawn to speak.

"S-sure." Shawn's voice was hoarse, like he'd been screaming instead of being strangled. "You got it." His blue-eyed glare alighted on me. "We're done."

I straightened and crossed my arms. "Fine by me."

Nathan finally released him, but not before shoving him against the wall once more for good measure. "Go. Don't let me see you again."

"Yeah." Shawn lumbered off into the night, clutching his waist where Nathan had drilled into his kidneys. He glanced back once more before he turned the corner and was gone.

Nathan looked like he wanted to start in his direction, but stopped when I grabbed his hand and pulled.

He turned and looked down at our joined hands. Immediately, I let go.

His brown eyes flared, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

"How did you know I would be there?" I wondered.

"Carrick," he said curtly. "He sent me a text saying you were on your way. I didn't want you alone on the street."

His fists opened and closed, and I recognized the signs of someone practicing measured breathing. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. I could practically count the beats along with him.

"Nathan, I—" I started, though I had no idea what I would say. How I would explain Shawn's presence.

"I don't want to know," he interrupted. "I can't—I can't talk right now, Joni. I'm too upset."

I hung my head, feeling utterly guilty. It was my fault he was in this situation. My fault he had been forced to assault someone outside his apartment building at four in the morning. My fault he was so overcome with anger he couldn't even speak.

Maybe Carrick was right. Maybe I was bringing nothing but chaos into Nathan's life, and I needed to bow out before I could do any further damage.

But the idea of roaming alone in this city, which suddenly felt dangerous in a way it never had before, kept me where I was.

"Let's just go upstairs," Nathan said, holding out a hand toward me, though he still couldn't look me in the eye. "I have back-to-back surgeries, and I have to be up again in an hour and a half. I need to get some sleep."

I nodded and let him walk me inside, his grip as gentle as ever. As we rode up in the elevator, I resisted the urge to burrow myself into his chest, to beg for him to wrap those big arms around me, providing shelter in a way I was starting to suspect only he could.

By the time we got to the apartment, I was shaking. Nathan hadn't looked at me once. He released my hand as we took off our shoes, then walked down the hall in silence, socked feet heavy on the hardwood floors.

He paused outside the bedroom door. "Are you coming?"

I looked up from hanging my coat on the rack in surprise. I'd honestly wondered if I should just spend the night on the couch.

"In a minute," I replied. "I'll be in soon."

He gave a curt nod and disappeared into the bedroom.

I showered quickly, changed into the T-shirt still in my bag, and tiptoed into Nathan's room to find the bedside light on for me. My fake boyfriend—fiancé—whatever he was…was already fast asleep. I watched him for a moment, enjoying the peace on his face while he slumbered. The anger, the confusion, and the tension were erased in his dreams.

Good for him. He deserved it.

As soon as I slipped into the bed, I was once again gathered into his chest while he slumbered. He nuzzled my neck and threw a heavy leg over my hip. His scent of sleep and soap and warmth wrapped around me as securely as his blanket.

"Come here," he murmured into my ear, though his breathing was heavy enough that I knew he was already asleep.

Her, I thought, even as my body naturally relaxed under his heavy, secure weight. He was thinking of her.

Not the woman Carrick told me about, but the one he had almost married.

Undoubtedly, someone who wasn't parading around in front of men for tips.

Someone who wasn't hiding her worst side from him.

Someone who didn't have secrets like me.

Still, I didn't move. I knew there was a good chance this might be the last night I'd ever spend in this bed, with this man, in this space where I knew I belonged.

I shouldn't have taken it.

But I never claimed to be a good person.

A flirt, maybe. A charmer.

But never good.

I was definitely not that.