Skin to Skin

Page 42

Body spent, I collapsed on top of him and his arms came up to enfold me. He smoothed his hands down my back soothingly as we fought to catch our breath, and as we laid there, melded together, he whispered softly in my ear, “I’m pretty sure you’re my everything, sunshine.”
Chapter 20
The bell chimed above the door at the shop and I hollered out, “Hey! Welcome to Skin Deep, I’ll be right with you!” I laid the box of supplies I was unloading on the table in the supply room and hurried out to help the customer who’d come in.
Brandon was in the back with a client, working on a back piece. This was the fourth and final session but it was absolutely breath-taking and the client had been raving about how much he loved it, even though it wasn’t finished. It took up his entire back and was very detailed, but very simplistic at the same time.
Luke had gone home early to take Emma and Everly to the baby’s doctor appointment. She was due to have shots today and, after Allie’s unintelligible phone call to Emma after Liam’s appointment last week, Luke wasn’t letting Emma take her on her own. He said that Allie had been crying so hard about the fact that Liam had screamed when he got his shots, and that Jackson had to practically carry both the baby and Allie out of the office because she was crying so hard right along with him. I’m assuming he gathered that much from Jackson on a separate call.
It’d been three weeks since the “incident” as we referred to it. We’d still not heard anything from Noah, other than the fact that everything did point right to Greg, because there’d been nothing else to report. But that didn’t mean that we weren’t still very careful…or that I felt like I didn’t have to look over my shoulder every five seconds if I was alone for just one minute.
The nightmare I had last night still lingered in my mind if I stopped to think for just a moment, so I’d been trying to stay busy all day. Brandon had helped, giving me tasks that he and Luke usually did just to keep me occupied. Not to mention the way he’d taken my mind off of it last night…
I walked around the corner and stopped behind the counter, the smile dropping from my face immediately as my nightmare came to life.
Standing before me, nonchalantly, like he had not a care in the world, was Greg. He leaned on the counter and smiled at me. It wasn’t the menacing smile that haunted me; this was his All-American Boy smile that reeled me in to begin with.
“Hey, sweetie! How’ve you been?” he said, brightly.
My vocal chords were frozen, and so was my body. I could only blink rapidly as I stared at him, terror rippling over every inch of me.
The smile turned down and, not quite frowning but close, he asked, “Aren’t you glad to see me? I’ve missed you so much, you know.”
The silence was deafening as I stared at him. It was only broken by the very faint buzzing of Brandon’s machine back in his studio. I was hoping that Greg would hear it and realize that I wasn’t alone. Maybe he would leave…
He shifted, leaning forward on the counter. “You ready to come home now?”
Pulse pounding, I finally found my voice. “You need to leave.”
He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s not very friendly of you, Chloe. I thought after all this time you’d be happy to see me, to get back to the way things were. I forgive you, you know. For throwing me in jail like I’d really done something wrong.”
A harsh laugh escaped my throat. “You practically cut my child from my body, Greg. You DID do something wrong! I don’t know how you got out, but you need to leave now.” Calling up false bravado, I straightened to my full (though not really threatening) height. “The cops are on their way.”
He chuckled. “Nice try, sunshine,” he said mockingly.
I gasped at the usage of my nickname from Brandon.
Greg’s face crumpled, the rage I was so much more familiar with working its way to the surface.
“You think I don’t know about your little fling with the pretty boy? Huh?” He snarled, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that the sturdy wood groaned. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been letting him stick his Goddamned dick all up in your fuckin’ cunt? You’re a whore!”
He roared the last bit and I cheered internally, knowing there was no way that Brandon didn’t hear that. But I didn’t think of the consequences.
I didn’t think of the fact that Brandon would see red and come charging around the corner, past the counter full-tilt and tackle Greg to the ground. I didn’t think of the fact that Greg could have been armed.
I didn’t think that Brandon could get hurt…until I saw the gun.
I heard the blast and saw Brandon flinch; I heard Greg yelling as he shoved Brandon off of him. I saw the blood bloom on Brandon’s arm and I was fleetingly grateful to see it coming from the fleshy part of his shoulder, seeming more like a graze than anything. But then dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I saw Greg jump to his feet and level the gun at Brandon’s head where he was moving to get up.
Brandon froze, his eyes trained on Greg, watching every move. I’d come around the counter, moving instinctively toward them, to try to break them apart or something…I wasn’t sure. Now, from my position, I could see the client Brandon had in his studio peering around the corner. He motioned carefully, staying hidden as much as possible, to let me know that he’d called the cops.
Hope rose in my chest but I choked it down, refusing to let it show on my face. Brandon held his hands up, flinching as the muscle in his arm pulled at his wound, which was steadily oozing blood, the drops of bright red splattering on the floor in a gruesome masterpiece of horror.
Greg, without taking his eyes off of Brandon, barked, “Chloe. With me. Now.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. The helplessness of the situation was killing me. There was no way I was risking Brandon’s life by refusing, but I could see him shaking his head at me, pleading silently for me not to move.
I took a shaky step toward Greg, watching the anger and fear grow on Brandon’s face. I could feel his desperation, knew that he was berating himself for attacking Greg without thinking, without assessing the situation.
Suddenly, Brandon’s client stepped out, holding the phone out in front of him. “I called the cops. They’re on the way but you have time to leave. Just leave her alone and get the hell out of here, man.”
I saw the color leech from Greg’s face as he realized that there was someone else there. His hand holding the gun wavered briefly and I saw Brandon tense, readying himself to make a move. Greg saw it too, though, and shook his head at him.
“Don’t fucking do it. You’ll regret it, I promise you. I’ll put a bullet in your brain faster than you can blink, mother fucker.” He motioned with the gun. “Crawl over there by Mr. Hero who called the cops. Don’t do anything funny or you’ll fucking regret it. Before I shoot you, I’ll put a bullet straight through blondie’s eye socket just to prove that you’ll have her over her dead body.”
Brandon’s gaze flickered back and forth between me and Greg and I pleaded with him with my eyes to please not do anything stupid. After what seemed like an eternity, Brandon finally moved, carefully sliding himself along the floor awkwardly to avoid jarring his injured arm. Greg followed his every move with the gun, his gaze never wavering. He’d apparently already assessed Brian, Brandon’s client, and discounted him as a threat beyond the use of his cell phone.