Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,13
our legs intertwined, hearts beating fast and both of us short of breath, I stroke Ian’s hair. As I run my fingers through the wavy strands on top, he shivers. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you tonight,” I tell him.
He lifts his head off my chest. “What? No. What are you talking about?”
“At the club—you wanted me to kiss you. When Cooper kissed Sam at our table. I could see it in your eyes.”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
I trace the edge of his cheek. “It’s not nothing.” I lean in to kiss him. “I want to make you happy. I’ll work on it, I promise.”
He lays his head on my chest, right over my thundering heart. “Just being in your life makes me happy, Tyler. I don’t need anything more.”
* * *
I wake violently in the middle of the night, shooting up in bed as my heart slams into my ribs. For a second, I’m dazed and disoriented, my gaze frantically searching the dark room as I try to get my bearings. Then I glance down beside me at Ian, who’s sound asleep in our bed.
It was just a dream.
In my dream, my boss, Jud Walker, along with two uniformed officers, comes into my office at the precinct. Jud looks gutted when he says, “I’m sorry, Tyler, but my hands are tied. You’re under arrest for aggravated battery.”
As the two officers approach me, I stand calmly, offering no resistance. I knew this was coming, and I’m not going to fight them. It was inevitable. Still, one of them grabs me forcibly and slams me face-down on my desk while the other one kicks my feet apart, yanks my arms behind my back, and cuffs me.
When I hear footsteps at the open door, I look up as Brad Turner walks into my office, his face bruised and bloody still, courtesy of my fists. He looks like he did that night at Sapphires, when I pulled him off Ian, as he choked him.
“You’re going to prison, asshole,” Brad grates out, sneering through cracked and bloody lips. “You’re going to rot in prison while I pick up where I left off with Ian. That little bitch is mine.”
That’s when I start to fight back. “Stay the fuck away from him! I swear, if you touch him, I’ll tear you apart!”
But Turner just laughs.
Then the officers haul me upright and hold me immobile as Brad slams his fist into my belly, over and over.
And that’s when I wake up.
Now, I’m too on edge to lie here, so I get up and pace. I gaze down at Ian, who’s sleeping peacefully on his belly, his arms hugging his pillow.
He’s fine.
He’s safe.
But still, my pulse pounds. Ever since the fight with Turner, I’ve had some variation of this same dream—or nightmare, rather. I dream I’m arrested for aggravated battery and end up behind bars, leaving Ian to deal with Turner on his own.
Or worse, I relive that night at Sapphires over again, walking into the restroom to find Ian pinned to the wall, Turner’s fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. Only, in my dream, Turner manages to crush Ian’s windpipe, and Ian falls to the floor and suffocates while I try desperately to save him.
I run my fingers through my hair, attempting to slow my heart rate. I’m wide awake now and not likely to fall back asleep anytime soon, so I head to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. When I return to the bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts and sit in an armchair near the window overlooking the street. If I can’t sleep, I’ll sit here and strategize what I’ll do if Turner does press charges. As I told Cooper, Turner—that manipulative fucker—is just biding his time.
One thing is clear. I don’t regret my actions that night. If Turner ever puts his hands on Ian again, I’ll do far worse than beat him up.
After a while, my heart rate returns to normal and I crawl back into bed. My body gravitates automatically toward Ian’s, and I slide one leg between his and wrap my arm around his waist. As I spoon him, my groin nestles against his ass. He groans in his sleep and clutches my arm to his chest.
I’ll never forget seeing the bruises on Ian’s throat the night Turner choked him. As far as I’m concerned, Turner got off lucky with just a beating.