Beneath These Scars

Jay. He was back. He’d been here.

My skin crawled as if I’d just rolled in fire ants, and ice water filled my veins. Rational thought stopped and instinct kicked in.

Fight or flight.

“I can’t stay here tonight,” I blurted and headed for the door. “I can’t. I have to leave.”

Levi might have said something, but the blood rushed too loudly in my ears for me to hear anything. I was already outside and down the stairs, falling onto the tiny garden bench in the back, before Levi closed the door to my apartment and made his way to me.

“Yve, what the hell? You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

Razor-sharp shards of helplessness twined around me, tearing through my courage and determination as if it were nothing but tissue paper, and shredding my illusion of safety. I was powerless again. Terrified. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

All the horrible feelings I’d spent years eradicating came flooding back. I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle when I whispered, “I can’t stay here. I have to go. He was here.”

Levi dropped to the bench beside me, and I couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch. He scooted away and gave me some space.

“Then we’ll go. Let me get the box. You get in the car.”

I did as I was told while Levi returned the box to the car. When he climbed in and we pulled away, I was already feeling ridiculous. Two blocks away, I wondered if I was imagining things. Could my mind be playing tricks on me? Did I wash the glass?

No. I knew I hadn’t. Someone had been there.

So much for not running. Apparently I was just as weak as I’d always been, but running wasn’t the answer.

“You can take me back. I’m good now. I just . . . freaked,” I told Levi. Embarrassment seeped through me at my overreaction.

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You didn’t freak, you flipped the fuck out. I’ve never seen you like that. And if your first instinct was to get out of your place, then I’m going to make sure you stay out—at least for tonight.”

“No, I’m fine. We can go back.” My skin prickled and my heart hammered even as I said the words. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment; I needed time to toughen up my armor before I went to slay that dragon. It was a momentary weakness. I could allow myself that, right? But only momentary.

I turned to Levi. “Just drop me at a hotel by the airport. That way you can catch your flight. I don’t want to make you miss it.”

But Levi turned in the opposite direction and headed for the Garden District. “I have a better idea.”

“Um, what?”

“Stay at my place. It’ll be empty, so it’s perfect.”

It sounded like a great idea. Until I saw his place.

I turned to Levi. “Who the hell are you?”

THIS WASN’T THE KIND OF place I should be staying as a guest. A woman like me had more business cleaning this house than curling up between sheets that probably cost more than my car. Hell, even cleaning this house would require a background check. It felt all sorts of wrong to be wandering around it by myself.

When I’d asked Levi who the hell he was, he’d just smiled and said his brother was loaded and had left the country today on a business trip. I’d stowed the urge to ask more questions, not wanting Levi to miss his flight.

Please, God, don’t let Levi’s brother be a drug kingpin. That would just be too much for me to handle right now. But then again, if he were some kind of cartel badass, then I guess I was in about the safest place possible. The panel of the security system mounted on the wall by the front door had taken a fourteen-digit code to enter, and I still couldn’t believe I had it.

This mansion was even bigger than the house my mama’s man lived in. The one she wasn’t ever allowed to go in because she was the mistress. I came from classy roots, no doubt about it. The blood of owned women ran in my veins going back almost a hundred years. It was the family tradition, a dynasty of whores, if you would. And I’d thought I’d been flouting tradition by marrying the man who wanted me. Turned out that marriage to a man like that was an even worse sort of slavery.

A shudder racked my body. I needed to find something to do before thoughts of Jay had me freaking out again. So I wandered the first floor, avoiding the rooms with closed doors until I smelled chlorine.

Seriously? An indoor pool?

As if I needed more evidence Levi’s brother was loaded. I stared longingly through the glass walls at the blue water surrounded by a gorgeous tile mosaic floor in shades of cream, aqua, and gold.

The house was empty . . .

Could I indulge a little? I weighed the decision. How often did a girl from Tremé get to use a private indoor pool with one of those lap lanes that let you swim against the current and keep going forever?

The answer was simple. Almost never.

And if I were swimming, maybe I could finally shut off my brain before I drove myself crazy. There was just one little problem—I didn’t bring a bathing suit. I pushed through the door to the pool room anyway, breathing in a deep lungful of the chlorine-scented air.

Again my mind went to the fact that the house was empty. Just little old me rattling around inside. Levi had said his brother wouldn’t be home for a week. I’d be gone tomorrow, so tonight . . . screw it. I kicked off my sandals next to a lounge chair and tugged my shirt up and over my head. My bra followed, and then my skirt and underwear. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought.

I strode to the side, curling my toes over the tile edge, and dove in.