Page 44 of Damaged

SILVER

I should have been terrified from the moment I’d heard him shout the curse from his bedroom, but strangely enough, I wasn’t. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew in my heart that Dalton would never hurt me. I didn’t count the time he’d reacted with violence after I’d woken him from his nightmare.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

So no, I wasn’t scared. I was angry. Really fucking angry.

That was how I knew I was physically safe from Dalton. If I’d done the same thing to Ivan, I would have been beaten within an inch of my life. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d known Dalton for just over two weeks and even though we’d barely spoken a word to one another, I’d learned a lot about him from his habits and routine.

I’d learned a lot of other things too, especially during all of my cleaning sessions.

Instead of instantly confronting me, Dalton stormed to the sink and dumped out the water. He spun around and reached for the whiskey. He turned so he was facing the window and took a long swallow of the alcohol, paused for a beat, then took two more swigs. He slammed the bottle down on the counter so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. He braced his arms on each side of the sink. The muscles in his arms and back bulged, proof that he was struggling to get control of himself. Under any other circumstances, I would have been drinking my fill of the half-naked gorgeous man, but not today. There were too many emotions swirling around inside of me. I chose to focus on the anger because that was what I needed to get through this.

It could have been minutes or hours before Dalton pushed away from the kitchen counter and moved to the table. He used his foot to kick out the other chair so he could sit. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t seem to be in as much pain as he should have been. It was probably the alcohol. The pills wouldn’t start to work for a while yet.

Dalton ran his hands through his hair a few times. I took those seconds to study his chest. I hadn’t really had a chance to see it in full the day I’d literally thrown myself at him. Now I could see that like his back, scars were scattered all over his torso. Some were deeper than others. The dark hairs that lightly covered his chest and abdomen didn’t hide the scars. In fact, they were easy to see because wherever there was a scar, there was no hair to cover it.

I wondered what running my fingers over the scars would feel like, but I wondered even more if the hair on his body was soft or wiry. The thing I really wanted to see was how far below the waistband of his jeans those hairs went. Despite shooting my release over his well-muscled abdomen that day, I couldn’t remember what they’d felt like.

“Why?” Dalton demanded, tearing me from the erotic memory. He seemed a bit calmer, but I knew anger still consumed him.

If it felt anything like what I’d been feeling for the last twelve hours, it would be burning through him—coursing through every drop of his blood and making every nerve feel raw and exposed.

“To make sure,” I responded.

“Make sure of what?” Dalton snapped.

“To make sure I was right. You’re an alcoholic.”

That most definitely got the man’s attention. He lifted his head, his dark green eyes burning.

“What the fuck?—”

“I had to look it up to know what it’s called,” I interrupted. Before he could even ask his next question, I added, “I used your computer. I looked up a lot of things.”

Dalton glanced at the money in front of me.

“I want you out,” Dalton snarled. He began to rise, presumably to grab the bottle of whiskey.

“I’m already packed,” I responded. I nudged my chin in the direction of the door where a plastic bag was hanging from the handle. “I’m taking a few of the things you bought me at the store. It took a while to figure out how much it all cost, but the Walmart website was very helpful.”

I put my hand on the stack of bills—every single one he’d given me over the past two weeks. “I figure we’re even on the clothes I’m keeping. They add up to what anyone else doing the same work would be making. I had to guess on how much the gas cost.”

“What gas?” Dalton asked. He’d sat back down instead of going for the bottle.

“The gas you paid for to drive me to and from the bus station.”

“What the fuck is all this?” Dalton asked angrily.

I ignored the question. “Why do you hide the bottles?” I asked. “Was that for my benefit or do you do it all the time?”

Dalton turned his head and stared at the entrance to the living room. He didn’t answer me.

“I lost count after twelve,” I continued. “I didn’t bother counting the empty ones in the trash out back and I’m sure I missed some, especially when I searched your boat. All those little cabinets?—”

“You were on my boat?” Dalton asked, his gaze swinging back to me.

“You’re an addict too. Not like Ivan, though. He liked sniffing white powder up his nose. He took pills too, but I never looked at them and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known what they were. He seemed to like the powder?—”

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