Lover Unleashed - J. R. Ward [195]
As Manny paced around his condo, he was going balls. Absolute balls. He’d meant to leave his condo shortly after Payne had, but he’d run out of gas and had ended up spending the whole night staring out . . . into the night.
Too fucking empty.
He’d been just too fucking empty to move.
When the phone had rung beside him, he’d checked the number and come briefly alive. Private caller. It had to be her.
And considering his mind had been going over what he’d said to her again and again, he’d needed a second to pull things together after all that useless spinning. That speech he’d rolled out had, at the time, seemed so rational and reasonable and smart . . . until he’d stared down the barrel at a future that was beyond vacant and deep into black hole.
He’d accepted the call not expecting anything male on the connection. Much less her brother.
Much less the bastard going all surprise-surprise when Payne wasn’t at the condo.
While Manny marched around in circles, he stared at his phone, willing it to ring again . . . willing the fucking piece of shit to go off and have it be Payne telling him she was okay. Or her brother. Anyone.
Any-cocksucking-one.
For chrissakes, Al Roker could call him with the goddamn news she was all right.
Except the dawn arrived way too soon and his phone stayed way too quiet. And like a loser, he went into his recent-calls list and tried to hit back “private caller.” When all he got was a dial tone again, he wanted to throw the cell across the room, but then where would that leave him.
The impotence was a crusher. A total crusher.
He wanted to go out and . . . shit, find Payne if she was lost. Or bring her the fuck back home if she was out by herself. Or—
The phone went off. Private caller.
“Thank fuck,” he said as he accepted it. “Payne—”
“No.”
Manny closed his eyes: Her brother sounded like hell. “Where is she.”
“We don’t know. And there’s nothing that we can do from here—we’re trapped inside.” The guy exhaled like he was smoking something. “What the fuck happened before she left? I thought she’d be spending all night with you. It’s cool if you two . . . you know . . . but why did she leave so early?”
“I told her it wasn’t going to work out.”
Long silence. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
Clearly if it hadn’t been all bright and sunny outside, motherfucker would have been knocking on Manny’s door, looking to kick some Italian ass.
“I thought that would make you happy.”
“Oh, yeah. Abso—break my sister’s fucking heart. I’m all for that.” Another sharp exhale, like he was blowing smoke. “She’s in love with you, asshole.”
Didn’t that stop him in his tracks. But he got back with the program. “Listen, she and I . . .”
At that point, he was supposed to explain the stuff about the results of his physical and how he was all freaked out and didn’t know what the repercussions were. But the trouble was, in the hours since Payne had taken off, he’d come to realize that however true that shit was, there was a more fundamental thing going on at the core of him: He was being a little bitch. What the go-away had really been about was the fact that he was shitting in his pants because he’d actually fallen in love with a woman . . . female . . . whatever. Yeah, there was a tremendous overlay of metaphysical stuff he didn’t understand and couldn’t explain, blah, blah, blah. But at the center of it all, he felt so much for Payne that he didn’t know himself anymore, and that was the terrifying part.
He’d pussied out when he’d had the chance.
But that was done now. “She and I are in love,” he said clearly.
And damn him to hell, he should have had the balls to tell her. And hold her. And keep her.
“So like I said, what the fuck are you thinking.”
“Excellent question.”
“Jesus . . . Christ.”
“Listen, how can I help—I can be out in daylight, and there is nothing I won’t do to get her back. Nothing.” Energized by obsession, he headed for his keys. “If she isn’t with