Page 14 of Wrecked (McIntyre Security Bodyguard #16)

When the elevator reaches my floor, the doors open, and I stare at the empty corridor. It’s eleven-thirty. Probably everyone is in bed. But there’s no fucking way I’m going to my apartment right now. I won’t be able to sleep. I can’t even stand to be with my own thoughts.

Sure enough, the fitness center is open, although the lights are dimmed and there’s no one in here, at least not that I can see.

I head straight for the jogging track that runs the perimeter of the large, open facility.

I hit the textured latex surface and start running hard, not bothering to warm up.

I figure I got a good enough warm-up in Cooper’s bed.

According to the sign on the wall, twelve laps is a mile.

So I start counting. One, two, three—ten, eleven, twelve.

I run the first mile in six minutes, which is pretty decent.

Halfway through the second mile, my body starts to lag.

My thighs are shaking. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and the two shots of coconut rum I had at Sapphires aren’t helping.

After I force myself to finish the second mile, I step off the track and head to the snack room to grab a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar. I’m still not ready to go to my apartment.

After downing the drink and food, I move to the punching bag section. The idea of hitting something right now sounds really good.

After I kick off my shoes and socks, I let the bag have it, punching it with my bare fists.

I don’t bother with gloves or even tape, because I want this to hurt.

I want to beat the bag until my knuckles bleed.

I need physical pain to overshadow the emotional pain I’m feeling.

My heart feels like it’s been shredded. My gut feels sick, and it’s threatening to reject the food and drink I just consumed.

God, please don’t let me barf here. The clean-up would be a bitch.

Besides, I’ll be damned if I’ll let Cooper make me puke.

I keep punching the bag, over and over, relentlessly, hoping to block out the thoughts of self-derision swirling in my brain. Some part of me is aware of the drops of blood on the mat under my feet, but I ignore that.

I’m such a fucking idiot, I deserve this.

I keep seeing a pair of steely blue eyes, short gray hair, those gorgeous arms, that thick, veiny cock.

“Ahhh!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Damn you!” I punch the bag over and over, wishing it was Cooper’s stupid, handsome face. But at the same time, I can’t accuse him of lying to me or deceiving me. No, I did that to myself.

“I’m such a fucking idiot!”

I cock back my fist in preparation to throw another punch, but before I make contact with the bag, someone grabs my hand.

I turn to see who the fuck is in here. “Liam?”

“Hi, Sam.” He frowns. “Is everything okay?”

My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. “Yeah, fine. Everything’s fine.”

Clearly, he doesn’t believe me. “What are you doing in here this late?”

I shrug. “Felt like a workout. I ran a couple miles, then thought I’d beat up this bag.

” I try to laugh, to sound easygoing, but I do a piss poor job of it.

Liam’s still holding my fist. The skin of my knuckles is torn and bloody.

I glance down at the blood splatters on the floor at my feet. “Shit, I made a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me clean your hand.”

“That’s all right. I can do it.”

Liam examines my wrist. “Where did these bruises come from?”

I glance down to see a ring of purple fingerprints circling my wrist. Cooper. When he pinned my wrists to the mattress. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.”

Liam meets my gaze head on. “Who did this to you?”

Shit . “No one.”

He clearly doesn’t believe me. “Sam, did someone hurt you tonight?”

My stomach tightens. “No.” Yes, but not in the way he means.

“I’ll be honest with you—I heard you yelling earlier. Now, tell me who hurt you.”

“It’s not like that. No one hurt me. I did a stupid thing tonight, but I swear to you, no one hurt me. He—it was consensual, Liam. He didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want.”

“If someone hurt you, all I need is a name, and I’ll handle it.”

I laugh. “Thanks. I appreciate that you’re willing to come to my rescue, but I promise you it’s not necessary.”

“All right. At least let me get you cleaned up.”

Liam leads me to a first aid room, flips on the light, and gestures for me to sit on a padded exam table. He digs around in the drawers for supplies—antiseptic ointment, gauze bandages, and medical tape.

After he washes the blood off my hands, he applies an antiseptic ointment and bandages my knuckles. “Leave the bandages on for at least twenty-four hours, okay?”

“Thanks.”

He nods. “No problem. Hey, some of the guys are going out to Tanks tomorrow evening. Would you like to join us? It’ll be me, Miguel, Jason, and Mack.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“How about eight?”

“Sounds good.”

After making plans for tomorrow evening—anything to keep me from staying home and feeling sorry for myself—I head back up to my apartment.

It’s almost one in the morning now, and I’m officially exhausted. I take the bandage off my hand— sorry, Liam —because I desperately need a shower. I still have Cooper’s scent on me, lube, and dried jizz on my belly.

Liam didn’t seem to bat an eye when I let it be known I’d been with a man tonight. Did he assume I was gay? Then I notice the T-shirt I’m wearing. Well, I certainly don’t hide it. There’s no way he could have known I was with Cooper.

Cooper.

How does the saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me?

Cooper used me like a Grindr hook-up, and I let him. I have no one to blame but myself.

It takes me a really long time to fall asleep.

* * *

I sleep in late Saturday morning. After some coffee, I hit the gym again, although this time in a more orderly fashion. I do some arm and shoulder reps in the weight room, followed by a four-mile run. Then it’s back to my apartment for a shower and some breakfast.

As I pop a frozen breakfast sandwich into the microwave, I remember Cooper turning his nose up at my food choices.

Well, that’s just too damn bad. We aren’t all Martha Stewart.

I keep checking my phone for a missed text or call, but there’s nothing. I don’t know what I’m expecting. It’s not like Cooper’s going to text me to ask what I’m doing today. He made it pretty clear last night that he got what he wanted from me, and now he’s done.

The only problem is, I’m not done with him. He’s a fixture in my head. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop replaying every second of our night together, like a loop on repeat. As bad as it turned out, the sex was incredible.

God, I feel like a teenager all over again, mooning over a guy who doesn’t want me. My life story.

I laze around the apartment all day, taking time to call my mom and check in with her. I watch some TV and half a Star Trek movie.

At six, my phone chimes, and my heart leaps into my throat. But when I check the screen, I see a message from Liam McIntyre.

Liam: We still on for tonight? 8 pm?

Me: Yeah. Sounds great.

Liam: Cool. We’ll swing by your apt at a quarter til.

Me: I’ll be here.

In the early evening, I order a pizza and finish the Star Trek movie.

We’re just going to a bar, so I dress casually in blue jeans, a dark brown Henley shirt, and sneakers. My hair is up in a neat bun.

Right on time, my doorbell rings. For a minute, I think it might be Cooper at my door, maybe coming by just to say hi or something. But of course it isn’t. It’s Liam and the guys.

I step outside and shut my door. “Hey, guys.”

Miguel steps forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I hear you’re going to transition to being Beth’s full-time bodyguard.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I was one of her first bodyguards, back when her brother hired us to provide covert security. That was when Howard Kline—the guy who kidnapped her when she was little—was released early on parole. Miles Bennett and I shadowed her 24/7, and she had no idea she had protection. She didn’t know she needed it.

” He chuckles. “The shit really hit the fan when she found out about the protection detail. She was so pissed at Shane.”

“Why was she mad at Shane?” I ask. “What did he do?”

“Well, he and Beth had already gotten together at that point, and he didn’t tell her any of this. She was livid. I was there when she let him have it. Fortunately, he was able to smooth things over with her.”

“Do you think this guy—Howard Kline—is still a threat to her?”

Miguel shrugs. “We can’t be sure, but we’re not taking any chances. I guess that’s where you come in now. To make sure she’s safe. Shane must like you if he’s trusting you to keep her safe.”

God, the idea of someone trying to hurt that girl—no wonder Shane’s so protective of her. She’s got to be the sweetest person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how anyone could wish her ill.

The five of us head down to the parking garage.

“Mack’s the designated driver tonight,” Liam says as we all pile into Mack’s SUV.”

It’s a company rule. There’s no serious drinking unless you have a designated driver. We take turns filling that role.

I’m glad it’s not my turn tonight because I won’t mind getting a little bit sloshed tonight. Anything to take my mind off a pair of steely blue eyes.

* * *

Tanks is a lot of fun. We order a ton of appetizers and pitchers of beer to share. Mack gets a Coke.

“How’s it going at Clancy’s?” Miguel asks.

“Fine,” I say. “All except for the bitch of a manager, Vanessa.”

Miguel laughs. “I’ve heard stories about The Dragon Lady.”

“God, I hope Beth fires her. I honestly don’t know why she hasn’t yet. Sometimes Beth is too nice for her own good.”

“Did you lose a fight recently?” Jason asks me, gesturing to my knuckles.

I laugh, not sure how to answer that. I don’t want to lie to these guys.

“Yeah, with a punching bag,” Liam says, laughing. He shoots me a quick glance that says Don’t worry.

Liam doesn’t know about Cooper, of course, but he knows I had some kind of run-in with a guy.

“Don’t look now, Sam,” Mack says, “but I think our server is checking you out.”

I nearly choke on a mouthful of beer as I glance back at a pretty blonde girl taking orders at a table near ours. “She’s wasting her time. She’s definitely not my type.”

“How about a game of darts?” Miguel asks. He lays a twenty dollar bill on the table. “I need to recoup my losses from the last time you skunked me.”

“You’re on!” I say as I finish off my beer.

* * *

A little after midnight, we head home. I’m pleasantly buzzed and forty dollars richer. Miguel was a good sport about losing to me again.

In the vehicle, I check my phone to see if I missed any messages or phone calls, but no.

Well, there’s one text from my sister who’s checking in with me, but that’s it.

I’ll text her back in the morning because it’s late for her.

Dayton is an hour ahead of us, and she needs her sleep.

She works the early-morning shift at the hospital.

After we arrive back at the building, we park in the garage and take an elevator up to our floor. I turn left out of the elevator, and the other guys turn right.

I let myself into my apartment and head straight to the kitchen for a bottle of water. I down half of that, then go to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

I hit the mattress still feeling a bit wasted after all the beer I had to drink tonight. I don’t bother with clothes. Instead, I grab some lube and start stroking myself. I close my eyes and pretend I’m not alone. I imagine a pair of blue eyes smiling down at me.

It’s his name I cry out when I come.