He wrenched Rebekah away from Isaac’s lips. Her tear-streaked, startled face scarcely had time to register before Eric’s fist was flying.
It connected with Isaac’s nose, knocking him flat on his ass. Eric’s satisfaction was short-lived. Rebekah dropped to her knees beside Isaac, who had both hands cupped over his nose, trying to clear his vision by forcing his eyes open and closed several times.
“Oh my God,” Rebekah cried. “Are you okay, Isaac?”
“Get up, you fucking pansy,” Eric said. “I’m not done kicking your ass yet.”
Isaac didn’t get up, but Rebekah leapt to her feet and turned on Eric, spitting mad. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“He was kissing you.”
“So that gives you a right to punch him?”
Uh, duh. “Well… yeah.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You need to leave.”
“But I came back for you.”
“Leave!”
“Call the cops,” Isaac said, climbing to his feet and brushing off the seat of his slacks. His perfect nose was still perfect, though swollen. Not even bleeding. “He’s obviously unstable.”
“I’ll fuckin’ show you unstable,” Eric said. Before he could throw another punch, Rebekah stepped between them.
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if expecting him to actually hit her.
After a tense moment, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “I asked you to leave, Eric. I’m not sure who you are right now, and you’re scaring me.”
Scaring her? Eric immediately relaxed his stance. “Rebekah?”
He’d never hurt her. Not for anything. She had to know that.
“Good-bye, Eric. You need to cool off before you do something you regret.” She grabbed Isaac by the sleeve and pulled him into the house, leaving Eric alone on the front lawn.
Eric stood there, oscillating between anger and anguish. It took him several minutes to notice that his unattended car was rolling down the street.
Rebekah watched Eric chase his car down the road. He caught it, climbed inside, and sped off.
“Is he gone?” Isaac asked.
She nodded, the tears she’d been holding in check flowing freely now.
“Good riddance.”
“Why did you kiss me, Isaac?”
“I think that’s fairly obvious, angel,” he murmured. He cupped her face and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “I love you.”
That was the last thing she wanted to hear at the moment. “Isaac.”
“Will you marry me?”
She stared at him in disbelief. Marry him? Was he serious?
Chapter 24
Eric had been driving on autopilot for almost an hour. He didn’t even know where he was going until he turned into Jace’s driveway.
He parked beneath the portico and sat there trying to collect his scattered thoughts.
Maybe he should just go home. The thought of being in that big fairy-tale house by himself was intolerable. He climbed out of the car and rang the doorbell. Aggie answered in full dominatrix regalia.
Had he not been so distraught, he’d have probably gotten a stiffy and started panting. Thing was, he was already panting. His only other option seemed to be crying, and that wasn’t going to happen.
“Eric?” Aggie said. “I thought you were a client. I was about to hit you for not going to the back door.”
There was probably a quip he should be spouting, but nothing came to mind. “Is Jace here?”
“Yeah, come in.” Aggie ushered him inside. She appraised him in the lighted entryway. “Sweetie, you look like shit. Is something wrong?”
“Had a little fight.”
“With Reb?”
He nodded.
She patted his back. “It will all work out.”
Eric wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded again. The doorbell rang. A chime that sounded like a doomsday theme.
“That’s for me,” Aggie said. “Jace!” Aggie called into the house.
“Eric’s here!”
Jace came into the foyer carrying his black tuxedo cat, Brownie, on one shoulder. His smile of greeting faded when his gaze landed on Eric’s face. “Dude, you look like shit. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
Jace patted Aggie’s butt as she sauntered by. “Do you have your panic button, babe?”
She cupped his cheek and gifted him with a lingering kiss.
“Yeah. I told you subs aren’t a threat. I don’t know why you worry about me so much.”
“Yes you do.”
She smiled and slapped Jace’s ass with a resounding crack. He tensed, his lip curling with primal desire.
“Get Eric a drink,” she said. “He looks like he can use one.”
Jace approached Eric and handed the cat to him. Eric held the creature at arm’s length and stared into her appraising amber eyes. She batted a beckoning paw at him and he drew her closer.
She sank a set of claws into his shirt and pulled herself closer. For a second, Eric thought the cat was going to bite him, but she rubbed her face against his jaw and purred. “Browww wwwooownnnn,” she meowed. Eric chuckled and cuddled her against his chest like a baby.
He followed Jace deeper into the house, while Brownie batted at the lock of blue hair that rested against his collarbone.
Eric expected Jace to lead him to the family room, which had a well-stocked bar, but he led him into his home gym.
“Do you have a secret stash of booze in here?” Eric asked.
“You don’t need booze.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You need to hit something.”
“Or someone.” Though he’d already hit a certain someone, and it hadn’t solved his problems, only made them worse.
“Sit,” Jace said, indicating a bench along the wall. He picked up a roll of white tape and grabbed Eric’s free hand to tape Eric’s knuckles. “Talk.”
Eric released Brownie, who went to stare at herself in a floorto-ceiling mirror along one wall. Eric allowed Jace to tape his hands and wrists while he told him what had happened at the Blake residence.
“Do you think she still cares about him?” Jace asked when Eric reached the end of his story.
“Looked like it.”
“I’d have hit him too.”
“You would have?”
Jace nodded. “But not in front of her.”
“Too late to fix that part.”
“Yeah. So now you’ve got to play it cool. Get the aggression out of your system so you don’t do it again.” Jace walked over to a large punching bag suspended from the ceiling. “What’s his name again?”
“Isaac.”
Jace used the tape to make a letter I on the punching bag. “I’ll leave you two alone,” Jace said. “I’ll be in the family room. Come find me after you kick his ass.”
Eric felt a little foolish beating the shit out of a punching bag.
First of all, punching bags didn’t shit. Second, they didn’t fight back.
While Eric loved to engage in a good brawl, he wasn’t into doling out unchallenged beatings. Sometime during his attempts to beat that tape letter off the punching bag while imagining Isaac’s perfect face, he realized that the guy would never fight back. Hitting Isaac was like beating up the punching bag and even less satisfying.
Drenched in sweat, Eric appraised what was left of the tape.
“Fuck.” He shoved the bag with both palms, sending it rocking back and forth.
Eric had learned to get what he wanted by fighting a long time ago, but he would have to change tactics in this case. Beating Isaac to pulp might be fun, but it wouldn’t bring Rebekah back, and that’s all he really wanted. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what would win her over again. He knew jewelry wasn’t the answer. Maybe Jace had an idea.