Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

SPENCER

“ H ow do we feel about pizza?”

Zane and Rio have been in my apartment for all of five minutes and have already made themselves comfortable. I don’t know what that says about me or about them.

Did I really let them into my apartment? Am I actually going to let them stay?

I’m insane. My attacker must have hit my head harder than I thought because this isn’t me. This isn’t staying safe. No matter how they make me feel.

The fact that Zane and Rio are in a stranger’s apartment and are pushing to spend the night shows they must be crazy too. At least our crazies match each other’s.

Let’s not even touch the fact that they have stirred something inside me I thought was long dead. Zane looks at me with those emerald eyes and I’m done for. My body fills with lust and I would give anything to know his touch again. All Rio has to do is smile and I would volunteer to be his slave for a week. A ravenous beast comes out that is only satisfied with orgasms. The self-induced kind won’t cut it. Trust me, I know.

“Spence? Pizza?” Zane asks from the kitchen.

I snap back to reality. “Do I have to make it?”

“No.” He scrunches his face.

“Then I’m game. If I don’t have to make it, I’ll eat it,” I say emphasizing my earlier statement.

I don’t care how much money I have to spend on frozen meals and takeout, my budget will happily take the hit if it means I never have to cook another meal.

“A woman after my own heart,” Zane says with a smirk.

“You say that because you also suck at cooking. You can’t even microwave popcorn.” Rio teases Zane as he returns from the bathroom.

“At least I’ve never burned a bowl of cereal.”

“That was one time!”

“Burned a bowl of cereal?” I question with a head tilt. “How do you manage that? You don’t warm up cold cereal.”

“To be fair, I was high.” Rio says it so factually like it’s not a big deal, but I burst out laughing. When I come down from my hysterics, they’re both staring at me. Mouths open ready to catch flies and everything.

“ Eres la criatura más bella. Por favor, ten mis hijos ,” Rio whispers.

“What he said,” Zane agrees.

“Did you say something about kids?” I ask, breaking them from their spell. Instead of responding, they just look at each other and smile as if they know something I don’t. Which they do and only serves to irritate me. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But one of these days I’m whipping out Google Translate.”

“Good luck with that, Mama.” Rio laughs.

To prove a point, I pull out my phone and type in his earlier statement. The results range from “You sexy beast, please have babies” to “Kids are beasts. Please have them.”

That's the last time I try that. I’ll just have to secretly record him and ask Alma for her help.

But the sentiment was clear. He thinks I’m pretty, but for how long?

I know I’m not interesting. I’m not a party girl. I don’t put myself out there or wear clothes that show off my natural curves. I actively avoid male attention. I hide and I have been hiding for the last three years, and I thought I’d been successful at it.

Until last night.

Besides, Zane is a man who looks like he’d be with a model, an actress, or some kind of superstar. She’d be sensual and confident. She’d know how to do a proper cat eye; know how to seduce him and make him go wild. The kind of woman that would make him want her every minute of the day.

Rio would be with a sexy bad bitch. She would dominate a room and have just as many tattoos and piercings as him, whereas I only have a single ear piercing. She wouldn’t need him to protect her, and she wouldn’t need anyone to hold her hand.

That’s definitely not me.

I choose D. None of the above.

I can’t even send my food back at a restaurant when they make it wrong. My preference is to silently eat my steak well done when I actually enjoy it medium rare.

He didn’t like it when I used my voice. He never wanted my opinions. He never would have asked what I wanted for dinner. He always just told me, and I had to go with it. Every time I think about it I get angry with myself.

Why did I stay so long? Why did I let him do that to me? Why did I go along with everything he said?

Because I’m weak. That’s why.

Quiet has always been safe. Keeping things to myself is safe.

However, Rio and Zane aren't the type of men who would shut down my ideas and feelings. They ask a question and I answer. Simple as that. I don’t hold back even when I feel like I should.

Comparing is a dangerous game, and I shouldn’t participate. But how can I not? They’re night and day and it’s throwing me off. I mean, it’s a good thing Zane and Rio aren’t like him . That would mean that I’m currently allowing abusers in my home.

The likelihood of me entering another abusive relationship is actually statistically probable. Not that I’m in a relationship with Zane or Rio. They’re just friends who wanted to make sure I got home safe…and am going to stay safe…all night long.

“What do you like on your pizza?” Rio shouts.

“Order whatever you want. I can pick off anything I don’t like. Except anchovies. Those leave behind a distinct anchovy taste.” With a press of a button, I turn on the TV and find my favorite show.

“Spencer.” Rio startles me. I didn’t hear him move.

I jump and look over my shoulder. I really need to be more aware of my surroundings. Or maybe Rio is just light on his feet.

He rests his hands on the back of the couch and leans down so his face is only inches from mine.

“What do you like on your pizza?”

His breath fans over my skin. Of course, his breath smells good. Like mint. The kind I’d like to taste with my tongue, but I can’t go there. I won’t go there. I’m not reckless. I plan, and I did not plan for Navarro Flores. So he has got to go asap.

Asap may not be until tomorrow morning.

His face is so close. Everything about him puts me into a trance, making me forget. I forget the pounding headache I’ve had since I woke up in the hospital, that I was attacked just last night and very likely by my ex, that I have a super long to-do list I’ll never be able to finish in one lifetime, that I’m technically in hiding.

His eyes drop to my lips causing my chest to rise and fall faster. I lick my lips and his eyes track the movement.

Shit. This can’t keep happening.

I clear my throat and answer, “Vegetables.”

He draws his eyebrows together. “What?”

“I like vegetables on my pizza.”

“Vegetables aren’t real toppings,” Zane teases from next to Rio.

I hunch my shoulders slightly and say, “Yeah, you’re right. Y’all can get whatever and I can pick off anything I don’t want.”

“Yes, they are. Don’t pizza shame her.” Rio swats Zane on the arm.

“Pizza shame?” he asks amused.

Rio gives Zane a signal I don’t understand and says, “Yeah, pizza shame.”

Zane looks to me, and I chime in quickly. “No, really. It’s okay. Get what you want.” My attempt to placate them doesn’t seem to have the intended effect. I don’t want to cause extra fuss.

Zane and Rio give each other a look and round the couch together, bracketing me on either side as they sit with me.

“Angel, you can get what you want,” Zane says as he grabs my hand.

“Tell us what you want, Mama.” Rio’s innuendo causes a chill to rattle my spine.

I refuse to look at them and answer, “Vegetables.”

Rio shoulders me playfully and states, “Okay I’ll order one rabbit food pizza and?—”

“Let me guess, meat lovers,” I interrupt. Sassy Spencer has been unleashed.

“Hey! Don’t hate. We like meat. All kinds,” Zane says in a smug tone and winks.

“I’m not hating. Just pizza shaming the pizza shamer.”

Zane and Rio break out in laughter together, a beautiful sound.

As much as I’ve liked an empty apartment, having them here is nice. Comforting. It feels like a home.

Still laughing, Zane pulls his phone out of his back pocket and places our order, including my rabbit food pizza.

Damn these perfect men.

As we sit side by side at my breakfast bar, Zane polishes off his pizza and I stare with my mouth open as I watch him chew. Zane poured my can of Coke he had ordered into a glass and added ice while he and Rio just drank out of the cans. Rio finished his a few minutes before, and I know that because when he was done, he shouted, “I win!”

Where does all that food go? Are they still “growing boys?”

Ha! Yeah, there’s nothing “boy” about them. They’re definitely all man.

We had a nice, light conversation while eating. I avoided all topics that could circle to discussing my attack.

As we talked, I felt myself gravitating towards them. Literally. My knees rested against Zane’s as we angled towards each other, and Rio inched closer and closer behind me. With each word out of their mouths, no matter how mundane, my muscles relaxed one by one. I couldn’t look away from Zane’s lips as they formed each word. The lilt of Rio’s voice soothed the stirring in my chest. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have each of their mouths on me.

I would never be able to choose between the two. One day I’m sure they’d make me. They already mean so much to me, and their presence makes me feel less alone.

Oh my God. I need space from these men. I can’t keep going down this trail. I internally shake my head at the constant back and forth.

I face forward so I don’t have to see the expression on their faces when I say what I’m about to. “Zane. Rio. I really appreciate you bringing me home and buying me dinner?—”

“But?” Zane interjects.

“But, I’m not okay with either of you staying the night. I need to be alone, I need time.” I hold my breath waiting for their response.

Not so subtly, I sneak a glance at Zane. Zane looks me up and down, assessing me. He’s cataloging everything. Every bruise, every scratch. No one has ever cared to look so close like that. Only Abuela, but never a man like Zane.

On my right Rio sits back quietly, remaining closer than what is considered acceptable for friends.

“Look. I promise if anything happens, I’ll call 911, okay?”

“No, Angel. You need someone, you call me or Rio. We’ll leave Asher’s number too,” he stands and crowds my space from the side, forcing me to lean backwards into Rio’s warm, solid chest. “Promise me.”

My focus wanders from his sinewy sculpted arms to his face, then I look up at him from under my lashes.

“I promise,” I whisper breathlessly.

“Good girl,” Rio praises in my ear.

“Let me check your head, then we’ll go and let you get some sleep,” Zane says.

“Okay,” I acquiesce.

He makes quick work of poking and prodding gently while asking some medical questions. Have I gotten dizzy lately, how’s my headache, etc. I answer each one correctly to get them to leave. All the while Rio is behind me playing with my hair, brushing the rough pads off his fingertips over my neck and shoulders. His actions wreak havoc on my concentration. More than once I stumble over my answers.

When Zane is done with his assessment, I realize he’s leaning close while he studies the bump on the side of my head. Perfectly close.

I turn my face to him, and he goes from analyzing my injury to zeroing in on my lips. Anxious to see what he’ll do, I hold my breath. Rio’s hands find my waist and he gives me a whisper of touch to the underside of my breasts. Discreetly, I squirm and squeeze my thighs together. Zane’s gaze drops and his eyes shine with an impish glimmer.

Shit. Caught red handed. More like caught wet pantied.

He leans closer so our lips touch as he says, “Call me if you need me. For anything.”

A whimper escapes my lips and Rio places a soft kiss on my neck in that sweet spot, but then they draw back and head out. On shaky legs I follow them to the door to say goodnight.

Zane lingers over the threshold. “Tomorrow we’re going to have to talk about what happened.”

A hesitant nod is all I can give as a wave of acid wells up in my stomach.

“Lock the door behind us,” Zane instructs.

“Have a good night,” Rio says.

My legs almost give out when they’re gone.

What are these men doing to me? In less than a few weeks they have managed to break down my walls and set up camp. I never let men get close. Let alone close enough to touch. Each caress from them sends the best chills down my spine, and more than that, it’s always a kind touch. There’s no malice behind it. I would know. He touched me with anger. His grip was like a vice when he got in my face and yelled with a rage I had never seen before—or since.

Zane and Rio may be safe, but I can’t go there with them. No matter how much my body and heart ache for the security they give me.