Toxic Page 3

  Defeat clutches my throat in a violent death grip. I run to the bathroom, my legs shaky and my stomach hurling upward, causing me to choke. I barely make it to the toilet before vomiting.

  The truth stares me in the face when I peer down to my shaky hands, feel the dryness of my mouth and the never-ending pounding of my head. It’s not just the guilt over killing a man. It’s also coupled with reacting this way while the other men in my family kill in their sleep. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “You’re nothing but a drunk.” I scrunch my forehead as I try and shuffle through my murky brain, trying to remember where I heard those words before.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, grip the lip on the vanity, flush the toilet after standing, and turn on the shower. I’m lethargic as fuck as I slowly wipe the sleep from my eyes, step into the shower, and scrub the hell out of my teeth.

  As the hot water cascades down my back, an angelic voice echoes throughout the bathroom, filling my head with her sweet melody.

  “Shit.” I brace my hands on the wall. Every word she sang, every nasty word she said to me last night hits my gut and causes it to twist and roll.

  I need to stay clear of her. She’s too good for a messed-up man like me. Still, I find myself thinking about her soothing voice and the way she sang. I’d heard her singing around the bed and breakfast; it was sweet then but nothing compared to last night. God, did she ever mesmerize me. Her tiny fingers plucking away on that guitar. Her face more flawless than any woman’s I’ve seen. And her sass making my cock stand at attention.

  Everything about Maria screams perfection. She has an innocent vibe to her that sucked me in. The woman doesn’t take any shit either. Makes her even more desirable.

  I can’t believe she’s here. It’s a damn shame, too, because the man I used to be would cherish and love the hell out of a woman like her.

  Could tell the minute she noticed me how much she hates me. Her entire demeanor changed, and that angelic voice turned cold, felt like freezing ice pelting my skin.

  I grab my soap, wash up, and towel off. I can’t think about why in the hell Maria is here, not when I need to sweat this fog off my brain before I get to work.

  Glancing at the clock and knowing I’m late already, I decide to run instead of drive. I whip on my shorts, grab my shoes, and search around for my keys.

  “Son of a bitch.” Where are they, and how in the hell did I even get home or into my apartment? Where the fuck is my car?

  Unpleasant memories flash in front of me. I got behind the wheel last night before stopping at the bar. I could have killed someone. I brought two chicks back to my place. One I didn’t remember fucking once before until she got all clingy and possessive. She did the same thing last night. Thought for sure she was going to toss the other chick out on her ass.

  “Jesus.” I tug on my hair, wipe my hands down my face, and take a look around my home.

  There is shit everywhere. Dirty dishes, my dirty clothes, fucking thongs, and papers. My life is going to shit, and I have no way of stopping it. I’m out of control. I need it to stop. Crave for it to end. The spinning is uncontrollable.

  “Can’t worry about it now,” I mumble as I grab a bottle of water. I down the entire thing, then grab another along with some aspirin, downing them both.

  Fuck, my stomach sloshes, causing me to brace myself against the counter. “Get your Goddamn ass moving. Sweat that shit out.” I groan, close my eyes, and wait it out. After a few seconds, my stomach calms down. I head for the door before my fucked-up mind talks me into taking a swig out of another kind of bottle.

  I glance to my left, where Aaron is beating the hell out of the punching bag in the far corner of the gym.

  I haven’t moved since I walked in the door from my run. Every muscle in my legs, neck, and back is on fire. I have a meeting in less than an hour, and I can’t make my brain shut down.

  Aaron is a mini version of our father. From his looks to his love for boxing and having no qualms about killing.

  There were times when I’d be sitting in the back seat for a ride along. Aaron couldn’t wait to get the job done. Swear the man got a hard-on just thinking about whatever we had set out to do. While me, I sat there dishing it out with everyone else. Lying through my teeth when I was really scared of out my mind. Maybe I should jump in there and go a few rounds. He might knock some sense into me.

  What I should be doing is getting my sorry ass changed instead of standing here wishing it were my face he was hitting instead of the bag. I close my eyes and wish for it. Christ Almighty, do I wish he would beat this hell out of my head so I can get back to the man I was.

  “You look like fucking shit, and you smell like it, too. What the fuck is the matter with you, and why the hell are you in here? Don’t you have a meeting?”

  Sweat drips down from my temples and breaks out at the base of my neck. My breathing goes from panting to downright heavy. The sound of my dad’s angry voice slams my heart into overdrive.

  “I have plenty of time to get ready for my meeting. I had a few too many last night. So the fuck what? And last I checked, this is our family’s gym.”

  Roan Diamond, king of our empire, is a lot of things. One thing he isn’t is a fool. He can smell a lie before it comes out of a person’s mouth.

  “Bullshit, Alex. Your meeting was an hour ago, and thanks to Justice, the deal has been signed. Not sure who you're trying to convince or if you’ve even noticed that Justice has been working her ass off since she’s been back from maternity leave. I’m done with you fucking up. This is the second meeting in two weeks you’ve missed. Three strikes, and you're out.”

  Jesus. I scrub my hands down my face.

  “What the fuck you going on about? I set the meeting for eleven. It’s ten o’clock, Dad.” My temper blazes as I struggle to stare into the angry eyes of the man I respect more than anyone. I swallow my guilt. The fog clears, and my recollection hits me like a brick upside the head.

  A phone call, a woman’s voice asking if we could move the meeting up two hours due to a conflict takes that brick and smashes in through the burned-out brain cells in my skull.

  “Fuck.” I need a drink badly. “Goddamnit. I’m sorry.”

  He looks tired, which is pretty much how he always looks when he’s dealing with a strenuous issue. His weary-looking eyes are always hard and callous when he’s facing the enemy, never missing a damn thing, but now they are soft and understanding. Yet hidden behind all his angst is the suggestion he’s serious about this.

  Holding my arms out wide, I lift my head up toward the ceiling and will myself to calm down.

  “Jesus, son. You need to talk to me.” His voice seems to trail off into the distance. All I can think of is that my job is on the line and how I’ve let the people I love down once again.

  “Alex, I have a pretty good idea what’s going on. Believe it or not, I get it. I’m here to help you. We are all here. You have to let someone in. Drinking and fucking random chicks is not the way to fight these demons. Neither is leaving your car parked outside of a bar.”

  Well, there’s the answer to where my car keys are. In my fucking car. Nice.

  “You don’t get shit, Dad. How could you when you thrive on killing people?” My annoyance with myself is escalating. It diminishes the instant I see a range of emotions long and wide all over my father’s face. The dominant one being hurt. I jolt my body back, every part of his appearance hitting me full force.

  The problem is, I don’t need anyone's help. What I need is for someone to come along and smash the fuck out of me. There isn’t anyone who can silence the static noise in my head. Not a shrink, not my parents, and not the alcohol. Not a Goddamn thing can help me.

  “Is that how you see me? A man who thrives on killing? I’m your father before I’m any damn thing. What I do doesn’t concern you. It’s what you are doing to yourself. And as your father, I have every right to be concerned. The people who love you are worried; it�
�s gone on long enough. Do you have any idea what this would do to your mother if she found out the shit you’ve been doing? I care about this football team, Alex, but not as much as I love you. You either get some help, or the alternative will bring you to your knees.”

  “This is such a crock of shit. You expect me not to think that of you when you just tossed a threat at me? Is this how things work, Dad? The minute someone fucks up, you slice them open. No second chances are given. How do you know what I’ve been up to? You got someone following me, don’t you? Of course, you do.”

  “I hear myself, and I hear you. You are hurting over something you did. Your anger toward me is all the proof I need to lay down the law. I wonder how you’d feel if that bastard had gotten his hands on Justice. Where would your head be then? You saved her life, saved her daughter and this family from grief. There isn’t any shame in that. I get it, Alex. My lifestyle isn’t what you want, but what you did is killing you, and I’m not going to stand by and watch my son ruin his life. You better be listening to me, son. And because you aren’t yourself, I’ll let your smart mouth go one Goddamn time.” He jabs me in the chest over and over until he has me against the wall.

  I’ve been on the other end of the anger stick my dad held tightly in his hand while growing up. But never like this. Not once did he touch me when he punished me, and not once did I mouth off. It was my brother who constantly got his sorry ass nailed by Dad’s wrath.

  Now, though, my anger matches his, and my heart thuds wildly. I’d die a slow, tortured death if anything had happened to Justice, and he knows it.

  I shove him away from me, the anger he’s brought upon me flooding my every thought.

  “Do not touch me. You don’t know jack shit.”

  My words mark my skin like a jagged scar. What I did cannot be undone. There isn’t any amount of praying or talking that will make me believe I don’t deserve to hang in hell from this insanity I’m clinging to.

  “Far from the truth. I do know. I also know you. Do you need to feel pain? I’m not afraid to beat your ass, Alex. I’ll welcome it right now. I’ll inflict more pain on you than you have a right to feel. Trust me, beating the shit out of someone is the best kind of therapy. You want to go a few rounds in the ring with your old man?” He pushes up his shirtsleeves and stares me down.

  “You’re crazy, old man.”

  “Am I? I’m giving you a chance to take your hurt out on me instead of yourself. Here’s your chance. Come at me.”

  His eyes glare with an intensity that tightens my chest.

  “I won’t hit you, and you know it, Dad.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ. If he wants to feel pain, let me inflict it.”

  My head spins around at the sound of an angry voice just in time to take a sharp right hook to the jaw from my brother.

  4

  Maria

  I stand rooted to the spot as I stare in awe at the pristine football stadium in front of me. It screams wealth and power. Matching everything about Alex and, well, quite frankly, the opposite of me.

  I mean, my family does okay, but it is nothing compared to this. “No wonder he can toss thousands of dollars at me and walk away. Jerk.”

  This is just my fucking luck. The one city I finally decide to move to, and not only does he live here, he’s also part owner of a professional football team. The freaking Idaho Diamonds. It’s been all the hype spreading all over this side of the country.

  I guess if I had paid a bit of attention to football, I would have recognized his face before he entered our bed and breakfast. The man and his family are everywhere on this side of the nation.

  I slide my hands around the steering wheel, resting my chin on top of them as I stare ahead. There’s something nagging at me. A pressure inside my head that’s screaming at me to turn back around, because when I hand over this envelope full of money, I have no reason ever to see the man again. It’s not that his shining personality is a trigger for me. No, it’s so much deeper. A part of me wants to extend a helping hand. Lord knows he needs one.

  Funny thing I want that when I’ve done nothing but convince myself I can’t stand him.

  I dig up the courage to hop out of my truck and head for the main entrance. I have no idea if he’ll even be here or where in the hell to start looking for him.

  I swing open the enormous glass door and step into the lobby. It’s the only door that’s not guarded with security. I circle around, the flat surface of my boots making it easy to spin. Holy shit! This place is an empire of rich marble and stainless steel. It oozes power, dominance, and money. My head swirls once I stop only to come face-to-face with a security guard.

  “Ma’am, may I help you?”

  I fidget with the strap of my purse, then pull down the hem of my frayed cut-off shorts. Realizing my actions are displaying how damn nervous I am, I square my shoulders and talk with confidence.

  “I’m here to see Alex Diamond,” I speak with more confidence than I have.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Sure do, sir.” The lie rolls smoothly off my tongue.

  He nods and points to a hall to my right. “His secretary will let him know you’re here.”

  Obstacle number one down. Now I just have to figure out how to strum up a lie to his secretary.

  My boots echo on the floor as I walk with determination, pausing when a massive cherry-wood desk comes into view. It’s not the sight of it that stops me in my tracks. It’s the picture above it. Alex. He stands next to Justice, who I learned from research is his cousin he works closely with. They’re standing side-by-side, arms crossed in Diamond jerseys.

  It’s a beautiful portrait straight from a magazine.

  Justice is gorgeous with wavy blonde hair and full lips. Her smile is infectious.

  My breath comes out in a puff of warm air as I take in Alex’s features. He’s a different man in the picture. Confidence oozes off him, his skin glowing, and a genuine smile lighting up his face. Authority, control, and raw sexiness. His eyes aren’t clouded in pain. They're clear and bright. Full of mischief. A man with a glowing sense of pride.

  What’s happened to the man who made him merely a shell of his former self?

  The black lines he now has under his eyes, his deflated vibe for life, is seriously starting to fuck with my heart and head. He’s suffering.

  “May I help you?” a voice cuts through my thoughts.

  “Um, yes, I have an appointment with Alex Diamond,” I say before thinking, the monstrous image of a happy and healthy Alex hijacking all my thoughts and ability to think straight.

  “Your name?”

  “Maria Richards.” I tuck a hand into the pocket of my shorts. “It may not be on his schedule; he just penciled me in last minute, but he’ll know my name.”

  “Okay.” Her brows scrunch up in concern. She’s onto me. I wait as she scans the computer screen surfing for my name.

  “Maybe he didn’t get it on his books. Like I said, it was a last-minute decision.” I tilt my head in suggestion, regretting my damn messy bun and light makeup. I’m the furthest from professional looking right now.

  “Give me a second.” She nods, picks up the phone on her desk, and begins punching numbers.

  His gruff, torn-up voice sends chills up my spine. He’s not on speakerphone, yet his voice booms through from the other line.

  “Miss Maria Richards is here to see you.”

  “Who?” he roars, not impressed.

  “Maria Richards. She said she was put on your schedule last minute.”

  There’s silence on the line.

  I lean in and whisper to her. “Tell him Montana.”

  The secretary is not impressed. Her perfectly sculpted brows burrow down over her lids, and she scans me from head to toe. Yeah, lady, I might look like a worn-down hoe, but I’m far from it.

  “Maria?” Alex’s voice booms again. “Do you know how many random chicks show up here for me? And you expect to me remember a Maria Richards
?” He knows it’s me, damn it. I know he does.

  Alex’s comments are the breaking point for the judgy secretary’s temper. “And do you know how many of them I let back there only to hear loud moans and banging?”

  And that comment coming from her is the reminder I need that he’s a power-playing asshole.

  “Rose, enough. Send her away. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Alex,” I holler on a last-ditch effort. This needs to be over and done with. I’m tired of having this man on my mind when he doesn’t give a shit about anything. Not even himself, which is incredibly sad.

  I didn’t go through all this hassle to be turned away, especially by his piss-poor choice of words, causing his secretary to believe I’m one of his whores waiting out here for him.

  I should've just acted the part and said, ‘your twenty-thousand-dollar maid.’ That would have gotten her hackles rising.

  A door to an office behind the secretary swings open. Alex perches himself up against the frame. We make eye contact, and you’d think he’d seen a damn ghost. Moments of silence float by without either one of us moving. At this moment, I see so much deeper into him than I ever have, and I don’t know why. It’s frightening, for both him and me. Especially my heart.

  God, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going crazy.

  “I’m busy,” he finally replies, runs his eyes up and down my body, and dismisses me when he reaches my eyes.

  Hell no. He’s not going to waltz back into my life, jumble up my head with concern for him, and dismiss me this way.

  I act in response, making it over to him in long strides, moving like I never have before. “No. Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”

  My actions don’t stop him. He shuts the door right in my face. A hot seed of anger simmers low in my belly. I will not be treated this way, no matter how sick he is right now. This motherfucker will hear me out on my Goddamn terms.

  I twist the doorknob, stride right in, and match his slam of the door with my own.

  “Maria.” He holds up a hand, voice shattered and broken. I don’t care.