What She Forgot Read online

What was scary was that she was completely serious.

  “No. Lies are not acceptable at all. Not when they could affect my business. If you knock somebody flat on his ass, you have to tell me, because I might have to make up a story to lessen the damage.”

  “You mean you would lie about it instead of me.”

  I rocked my head back and forth as I thought about it. “No, but I can set up the situation so that it’s presented in the best possible light.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay?” Did she just agree? I thought she did, but with Shelly, you never could be sure.

  “Okay,” she said again with a nod. “Can we go and get something to eat? I’m kind of hungry.” She laid a hand on her stomach just as it let out a loud grumble.

  “Kind of? I’m kind of scared after hearing that.” A grin hovered in my mind, even if I didn’t let it show on my face.

  She turned and whispered to me, “I only consume men who are weaker than me.” She smiled a slow, sultry smile and, quite frankly, it scared the shit out of me. She tapped her finger on her temple. “Mentally, of course. Not physically.”

  “Explain.” I just said that one word. Nothing more.

  “Well,” she said. She bit her lips together and stared ahead. “Never mind,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

  “No,” I replied. “Enlighten me.”

  “Men are sometimes simple. They like sex, food, and whatever their favorite pastime might be. If you give them those three things, and you’re really good at being what they need for you to be, they’ll do just about anything for you.” She heaved in a sigh.

  “What’s that sigh for? It sounds like you’ve found the formula for making men happy.” It was true. She was right. We are typically simple creatures. Much simpler than women, with their emotions and hormones.

  “I’ve never made a man truly happy. Not like Lynn and Mason. What they have is special.” She scrunched down in her seat and pulled her knee up to her chest, then leaned her head against the window.

  “Do you want that?” I asked. Shelly was talking and I was listening.

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Love makes you weak.”

  “No,” I said. I reached over and adjusted the ice bag where it had slid from her knuckles. “Loving the wrong person makes you weak. Love, in general, does not.”

  “Wait,” Shelly said. “You’re not married, are you?” She looked at me with sudden contempt.

  “No, I’m not,” I said. Well, not really. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe never. Who knew anymore? “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she said quietly. “Let’s go for pizza. Carbs. Yum.” She smiled at me and a little piece of my heart melted a little.

  I turned the car around and went in the other direction. If we were going for pizza, I knew the perfect place.

  Chapter 12

  Clark

  “You really know how to treat a girl to a good time,” Shelly muttered as she sat next to me in the car. She had napkins spread over her lap and a drippy, greasy piece of pizza rested there on a paper plate.

  “This is the best pizza in the city,” I said around a mouthful of goopy cheese and meat. “Quit being such a food snob.”

  I’d taken her to my favorite food truck, which I followed with an app on my phone so I’d always know where to find them on any given day. The owner, Sheila, was a former client of mine. I’d helped her through a messy divorce with a cheating husband. Because of me and my ability to “surveil stuff” she’d gotten the food truck, the house, and the children in the divorce. Her cheating husband had gotten a black eye when he ran into my fist.

  She was still grateful, and she still made the best pie in the city.

  “I am not a food snob,” Shelly said. She picked up the pizza and folded it in half, then raised it to her lips and took a bite.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Of the pizza?”

  “It’ll do,” she said, still chewing.

  “It’ll do,” I repeated, stupefied. “This pizza is superb. Don’t talk bad about my favorite pizza place, woman,” I chided.

  “What makes this pizza place so special?”

  “It’s the best fucking pizza in the world.”

  She snorted. “So it has nothing to do with the red-haired lady who was fawning all over you while you were ordering? I was standing right next to you, for God’s sake.”

  “She wasn’t fawning. She was being nice.”

  “She was being a nice woman who really really wants to fuck you, Clark. Are you that unaware? Seriously?” She took another bite of her pizza and then returned it to the plate in her lap. “I can’t enjoy pizza made by such a twat as that. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  “Twat?” I said. I laughed out loud. “Did you really just use the word twat in casual conversation?”

  “What’s wrong with the word twat?”

  “Nothing.” I snorted out another laugh I couldn’t hold back. I laid my head back and chuckled, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. “Twat.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Twat, Shelly. That shit’s funny.” I took another bite of my pizza. I pointed to hers. “Eat,” I said. “The way your stomach was sounding, I thought it was going to attack me. You need nourishment. Eat.” I pointed to her pizza again.

  She lifted the pizza and took another bite and made another face.

  “Sheila is happily remarried to a friend of mine,” I said. “His name is Ralph and he’s a nice guy. You’d like him.”

  “Does he know she wants to fuck you?” Shelly parried.

  “She doesn’t want to fuck me.” Just then a rap sounded on my window. I looked over to find Sheila. She smiled at me and motioned for me to roll my window down. I did. She leaned over and held out a piece of chocolate chess pie. “Thought you might like this,” she said.

  I took it from her, and she leaned into my car and kissed my cheek, lingering just a little too long for comfort.

  “Thanks,” I croaked.

  “Any time,” she said, and she winked at me. Then she went back to her food truck.

  Shelly smirked. “Told you so.”

  “I hate you,” I said as I rolled the window back up.

  “And yet you still would give your left nut to taste my lip balm,” she said quietly. Then she stuffed her pizza into her mouth and took a huge bite.

  I snorted. “Shows how much you know. I don’t have a left nut.”

  She turned to face me, her mouth open ever so slightly. “You’re kidding,” she said around her food.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pushed her chin up with my finger. “Close your mouth. I can see your pizza.”

  She opened her mouth wide. “You mean like this?”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun. My life, it wasn’t full of fun and games. It was work. And other obligations. But not much fun.

  She glanced down at her watch. “Can you drop me off in front of the rec center on Front Street?” she said. “I have a class in just over an hour.”

  “What kind of class?”

  “Self-defense. I teach it two days a week.”

  “How much do you know about self-defense?”

  She glared at me. “Duh…” she said. “Only, like, everything.”

  I picked up her hand and looked down at her bruised knuckles. “You might want to go easy on punching people today. Those knuckles are pretty bruised.”

  She laid her head back against the seat and smiled a salty smile at me. “If you’d wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked.”

  I dropped her fingers when I realized that I was, indeed, still holding her hand. “You suck so bad, Shelly Punter.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” she said. “I’m really good at sucking.” She grinned at me. The thought of her sucking anything shot straight to my dick. I looked away from her.

  I drew in a slow breath. “Why do you
do that?” I asked quietly.

  “Do what?” she asked as she took the last bite of her pizza, chewing carefully as she watched my face.

  “You turn everything into a sexual innuendo.”

  “Everything is a sexual innuendo,” she replied, giving me a perplexed look.

  I cleared my lap and put the car in gear, pulling out of the parking space. I shook my head in consternation. She wouldn’t understand it even if I explained.

  “Tell me what you mean,” she prompted. “You were talking about your left nut,” she rushed to say.

  “I was joking.”

  “So was I.”

  “No, you were enticing.” I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t right now.

  “You think I’m enticing?”

  I heaved out a sigh. This was getting me nowhere.

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to sleep with me, Clark,” she said. “You do. You know you do. I know you do. Now we all know you do.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Tell me a lie. Tell me you don’t want to fuck me, Clark,” she said.

  I pulled into a parking space in front of the rec center and put the car in park. Then I sat for a moment and thought. “Many years ago, I met a woman who changed my life.”

  “Who was she?”

  “My wife.”

  She went absolutely still. “You said you weren’t married.”

  “I’m not. Not anymore.”

  “Okay.”

  “But the woman, you remind me a lot of her.”

  “How so?”

  “She was beautiful.”

  Her gaze softened.

  “She was smart.”

  She began to smile.

  “And she was crazy as fuck.”

  I expected to see her face fall, but it didn’t. She still looked elated. “Where is she now?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “Then why are you telling me this story?”

  “Because the moment I met that woman, I wanted to fuck her. I let her gorgeous legs and her fuckable mouth take over all my common sense. I wanted her, and I fucked her, and then my life went to shit. So forgive me if I choose to overlook your overt fuckability, Shelly. Once burned, twice shy, and all that.” I heaved out a sigh. “So from now on, if you could keep your smart little innuendos to yourself, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  She reached over and opened her car door. “Thanks for the pizza,” she said. “And I hope I never have to see that twat again.” Then she stepped out. She looked back just before the door closed, bending so she could talk to me through the open door. “For what it’s worth, you’re letting one bad woman spoil the whole bunch.” Then she closed the door, slamming it very gently.

  I put the window down and called out to her. “Hey, Shelly,” I said. She turned back. “What time does your class start?”

  She looked down at her wrist. “In one hour. You want to come and see if you can take me down, PI guy?” She smiled at me.

  I’d like nothing more than to take her down. Right down on my cock.

  “You’re fired, Shelly,” I sang out.

  She shot me the middle finger. “I’ll see you later,” she called back.

  I put the window back up and pulled out of the spot. Shelly was a problem. But I didn’t know what to do about it. Not yet, anyway.

  Chapter 13

  Shelly

  I wasn’t fired. Of that much I was certain. Clark might not want to admit it, but he needed me. He needed me and he wanted me, although I was sure he was even less likely to admit the latter. I had no idea what had happened to him in the past with his ex-wife, but I was certain it was pretty big, based on the fact that Lynn refused to tell me about it. It was big and it was intimate, and that made me want to know about it even more.

  I let myself into the building and walked into the big gym and then into the locker room where I kept a locker with my clothes. I changed into my workout gear, which was a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra with a t-shirt pulled on over it. Then I laced up my sneakers and went to the gym to stretch and get ready.

  But when I entered the gym, I stopped short, because standing on the mat in the front of the gym were five of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. They were all tall with blond hair. They had tattoos on every square inch of visible skin, and I grinned when I realized who they were. As I walked into the room, they all turned to face me, and then one of them stepped to the side, revealing my partner in crime, Reagan Reed. Reagan had come today as a favor to me, mainly because she kicked ass.

  “Reagan,” I said as I approached her. I held out my hand for her to shake, but she bypassed it and hugged me instead. “Okay,” I muttered against her shoulder.

  She stepped back and stared at me. Then she pointed her chin toward the five men. “I brought my practice dummies,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to show some actual defense techniques today that the class participants can use against an actual assailant.” She jerked her thumb toward the one closest to her. “You remember my husband, Pete, right?” she asked, her brow furrowing as I stared at the man. “And these are his brothers.”

  “Of course.” I was a regular watcher of their reality TV show and, for the first time in my life ever, I was feeling a little star-struck. “Pete,” I said. Then I went down the line. I shook hands with Logan, Paul, Matt, and Sam. “So nice of you to join us.”

  The one that looked just like Pete—Sam?—rubbed his stomach like he was bored. “Sometimes Reagan likes to knock us around,” he said drolly. “Pete says it turns her on and then she rocks his—”

  Reagan reached over and covered his mouth with her hand. “I apologize for my brother-in-law,” she said over a laugh. “He appears to have left his manners at home.”

  “Pretty sure he never had any,” Logan said.

  “Yes, he did,” Paul replied. “He just forgets to use them.” Then he hooked Sam with a big hand and drew his head into the crook of his elbow, where he proceeded to give him a noogie. Then Paul shoved him away. “Behave yourself,” he warned with a scowl.

  Just then, people began to filter into the gym. Some of them were in workout gear, while others were in jeans and t-shirts. Still others were in work clothes. I knew from experience that some people were here because they got a work credit for taking the class, and others because they had suffered a traumatic experience themselves. I walked around and greeted them as Reagan prepped the men in her family with protective gear. Luckily, no one had recognized them yet, and now that they were in protective masks and headgear, they might get out of here without anyone being the wiser, but I doubted it. The Reeds were generous with their time, and with their fans they were normally willing to go the extra mile.

  “Do you know who that is?” Reagan asked me, leaning her head close to mine. She nodded toward the newcomer who was hanging out around the perimeter of the room.

  “Never seen her before,” I replied. “I’ll go find out.” I approached the woman, who regarded me like I could potentially be dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Shelly. Welcome to the class.”

  She shook my hand, her grip a little too aggressive for my liking. “Megan,” she said. “I’ve heard interesting things about your program.”

  “From?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “I take Krav Maga down at the gym on the corner. They speak very highly of you there.”

  I had taken Krav Maga many years ago. Krav Maga was a mix of boxing, judo, karate, and other martial arts, and it was primarily used to defend oneself. If she was in that class, she might be able to protect herself. There was only one way to find out.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. Then I went back to stand next to Reagan. The Reed men were curiously absent, and I stood silent as Reagan gave her introductory speech, explained what they could expect from the class, and she encouraged anyone who was intimidated by the class to take a seat on the mat and watch, rather than participate. Half the group immediately sat. Th
e rest stood. A few of them nibbled their nails, and the rest of them stood with shoulders back, feet spread wide apart. They were ready.

  Suddenly, a blur of man erupted from behind one of the bleachers. The man ran toward Reagan, and she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could. The man didn’t stop. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, locking his hands in front of her stomach, her arms caught against her sides.

  I’d seen Reagan and her husband do this bit before, so it didn’t startle me, but the other participants of the class were immediately terrified. One woman ran toward the locker room and left completely. But a few of them were still standing with squared shoulders and planted feet. Megan was one of them.

  Reagan kicked out, trying to land a blow anywhere she could, but her husband didn’t flinch. Instead, he took her down to the mat and covered her body with his.

  Reagan tapped the mat and he froze. She stopped and explained every action she could potentially take to get out of the situation. There were many techniques that a victim could use to get out of a hold like the one she was in, and Reagan explained every last one. People nodded their heads, leaned in close to look, and one person came to kneel directly next to them on the mat so she could clearly see the moves Reagan was using. When it was over, Pete rolled off her onto his back, his chest heaving. She leaned down, pulled off his headgear, and kissed him quickly. “Thanks, babe,” I heard her mutter.

  He grinned back at her, and then he went to sit on the bleachers with a bottle of water.

  Next, it was my turn.

  Paul Reed darted from behind a different bleacher and ran toward me. He grabbed me, covering my mouth with his hand as he did so. My training and innate ability to thwart danger kicked in, but I tempered it. This class was for teaching. It wasn’t for maiming one of the Reed brothers, which I could have already done three times over.

  I explained various techniques, and when we were done, Paul shook my hand and went to sit beside his brother.

  Next, Logan tried to steal Reagan’s purse from her shoulder. Reagan went through the various methods she could use to protect herself while protecting her property.