Starting Over(Hart of Seattle)

Chapter Seven



“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?”
Von jolted awake. “Huh? What?”
“Your face,” Marketta forced out between clenched teeth. “What. Happened?”
“Derrick—”
“Oh, hell, no! Tell me that f*cker didn’t hit you.” She whipped out her cell phone and punched in a number. “Yeah, Moose, it’s me. Grab some boys and—”
It hurt like crazy but Von managed to lunge up and knock the phone from Marketta’s unsuspecting hands. It bounced off the bed and onto the floor.
“What’s the matter with you? Do you know how much I paid for this phone?” her cousin griped as she stood to go get it.
Von grabbed her arm and held on with strength born of desperation. “My fault,” she said. “Don’t. I’m to blame.”
Marketta narrowed her eyes. “I can’t believe this shit. Next you’ll be telling me you accidentally ran into his fist. What the hell is wrong with you? He HIT you. You know we don’t play that shit!”
“Let me explain,” she pleaded, still holding on tight. Oh, God, why hadn’t she thought about her cousin’s reaction before calling her to come over? The last thing Von wanted is anyone else knowing how she’d humiliated herself and what came after, but if she wanted to avoid the violence Marketta was about to set into motion, she’d have to tell all.
Her cousin stared at her for a long moment. “I doubt anything you say could justify this,” she flicked a finger at Von’s face, “but you got five minutes. Make it good.”
In the background Von could hear Moose calling her cousin’s name. She looked at the phone and Marketta followed her gaze. “Let go.”
Von released her and she went and picked up the phone saying, “Sit tight for a minute. I’ll call back in a few...mmm-hmm...yeah.” She push the disconnect button and crossed over to the dresser and leaned her butt against it, hands crossed over her chest. “Talk.”
Slowly, painfully, reluctantly, Von told her cousin what happened from the meeting with Sean at the restaurant until Von’s phone call asking Marketta to come over. When she finished, Von collapsed upon the pillows, her head once more throbbing in pain, waiting for her cousin’s reaction.
Marketta shook her head. “Damn, girl. You f*cked Sean in Derrick’s apartment where he could walk out at any moment and see?”
Von flinched and turned her face away in shame.
“Damn...” That’s all her cousin seemed to be able to say. Quiet descended. Von was once more shamed by her actions and her cousin, no doubt in shock.

Finally, Marketta stirred. “Look, I’m not saying what a*shole did is right. Hitting a woman is plain wrong. I don’t care what the provocation, but you’re right. No need to get the boys involved in this. Although I’m still tempted...”
Von glanced back at her cousin to see Marketta caressing her phone and eyeing it consideringly. “Don’t tell anybody, ’kay? I don’t want them knowing I...” She couldn’t finish.
Marketta set the phone on the dresser and came and sat by her on the bed. “Von, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I know you’re blaming yourself but this whole thing is Derrick’s fault.”
When she tried to protest, her cousin cut her off. “Listen to me! He came over here and got you all stirred up. Hell, Von, he’s been jerking your chain for years, and I’m not just talking about sex. When you went over there to finally do something about it, he pushed you away. Cruelly, in front of a witness. Personally, I’m glad Sean was there. Yeah, so things got a little out of hand between you two. Just means that’s some strong chemistry between you and Sean.”
Von shook her head, denying that last bit. “No, there’s nothing between Sean and me. He just...”
Marketta arched both her eyebrows. “What? You think you raped Sean? A big strong man like that?” She laughed. “Honey, you’re so clueless it’s ridiculous. I told you the hunk was here for you. Granted, I didn’t expect you to offer yourself to him on a platter, but I’m not surprised he jumped on it, or rather, let you jump on it.” She wagged her eyebrows, laughing when Von flushed.
“Marketta!”
She shook her head, smiling crookedly. “I’ll say this for you. You never do things halfway. Let me get some ice for that swelling.”
Her cousin left the room before Von could get her thoughts together. Her mind still stuck on the image of her lowering her body onto Sean’s penis. In spite of the pain she was in, the memory of him moving inside of her, the feel of him stretching her deep within was enough to arouse her all over again.
Marketta came back with ice in a sealed plastic bag with a towel wrapped around it in one hand, and a glass of water and bottle of painkiller in the other. Von took two pills then set the icepack on her face. As she felt her eyes closing, she told her cousin, “Don’t let me sleep too deeply.”
“I know how to treat a concussion. I’ve handled my share of them. What about your job. What’s your schedule?”
Von’s eyes popped open. “I’m off tonight but—”
Seeing her alarm, Marketta said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call. Tell them you were playing football with the family and it got a little too rough. You caught an elbow in the eye and for them not to expect you in until the swelling and coloration recedes. God knows you never take any time off. They can manage a few days without you.”
Von wasn’t an advocate of lying, but in this case she’d make an exception. “Thank you,” she told her cousin in a soft voice. With Marketta’s story, she wouldn’t even need a doctor’s note.
“Yeah, that’s what family’s for. We cover each other. Speaking of family, I’d better call Moose and tell him never mind, but Von...”
Marketta waited until she was looking at her before continuing, “That bastard touches you again and we’ll f*cking bury him.” With that promise, she walked out of the bedroom.
Von sighed, readjusted the icepack to a more comfortable position, and closed her eyes. Marketta was dead serious and Von knew it. Unfortunately, Von’s mother with her drug habit and whorish ways wasn’t an abnormality in her family. They had family members on both sides of the law, but the younger males, unfortunately, tended toward the criminal mindset: drug dealers, pimps, gang bangers, to name a few. Even the straight ones didn’t mind crossing over for the right reason, and messing with a family member was considered justification enough.
Derrick knew about her momma and Marketta, of course, but she’d never really spoken about or introduced him to the rest of her family. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them. She just knew after his reaction to her momma and cousin that Derrick wouldn’t understand. His home life was so different from hers. She was ‘hood—public housing, welfare, and weekly crab boils with the family—and Derrick was Amen, only his father was Clifton Davis, the pastor, instead of Sherman Helmsly, the deacon.
Her family knew she was involved with “that preacher’s son” and that she’d “found religion.” As long as she didn’t try to convert them, they were cool with it. Derrick had no idea of the hell he’d unleash if what happened to her became known.
Von was the family pet. “Nookie’s” daughter, the one everyone looked after because her momma simply wasn’t capable. In a family consisting of her momma’s three sisters and four brothers; Nona, her maternal grandmother; and a whole slew of cousins with baby mommas and baby daddies, that was a lot of relatives. She had no idea who her father was but it didn’t matter because her mother’s family more than made up for the lack of a paternal side.
She drifted off to sleep, Ketta’s words replaying in her mind.

****


Sean wiped sweaty palms on his pants as he confronted the closed door of apartment 4B. He didn’t exactly look his best with his busted lip, blackened eye, and swollen and bloody knuckles. Worst was his stubborn cock that refused to go down. Von would take one look at him and think he came to finish what they started.
Didn’t you?
He ignored the voice and knocked firmly on the door. His first concern was Von. If she wanted to pick up where they left off, well, he wouldn’t complain, providing she wasn’t too upset about what happened. And, he thought dourly, if he could be sure her desire was real and not the result of lycan pheromones.
Inside his enhanced hearing caught a muttered curse and the sound of an interior door being gently closed before quick steps came toward him. “I hope that’s you, Derrick, so I can rip you a new one.”
Both his eyebrows shot up at the bloodthirsty words.
The door snatched open. The woman facing him was definitely not Von. She appeared equally surprised. “You’re not Derrick.”
“No,” he agreed.
She leaned to the side and glanced past him. “Where is he?”
“Unconscious.”
She eyed him up and down, taking in his marred face and hands. He had a feeling nothing about him escaped her notice. “Your handiwork, I assume?”
He gave a brief nod and pushed back his impatience. From the way she leaned against the door jab, she obviously wasn’t letting him inside until she was good and ready. He did a little examining of his own. This woman’s face was a little rounder than Von’s and her complexion darker, but they both shared the same deep, dark, see-right-through-you brown eyes. “You must be Marketta. Von talks about you a lot.”
Marketta brought her arms up and crossed them over her chest, cocked her head to the side, and raised one eyebrow. “And you’re the hunk.”
Hunk? Had Von called him a hunk?
Sean asked the question that was burning a hole in him. “How’s Von?”
“Concussed.”
He cursed and dragged a hand through his hair. So much for his assumption that she was okay. Von had no business leaving Derrick’s, not in her condition. It’s a wonder she hadn’t killed herself driving.

At his reaction, she relented a little. “I gave her some painkiller and an icepack. She’s resting.”
“Can I see her?”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Marketta said firmly
Taken aback, Sean asked, “Did she say that?”
She bit her lower lip. “No.”
He put his hands on his hips, ready to do battle. “Then how do you—?”
“Look, she’s feeling pretty raw right now. Von’s blaming herself for everything that happened.” Marketta flipped a strand of long, artificially wavy black hair over her shoulder and matched him glare for glare.
“Damn it!” He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and counted to ten, beating back the urge to push his way inside. When he was sure he had control, he opened them to find Marketta watching him warily. “I’m sorry. I had a feeling she was going to do that. It’s one of the reasons I came over.”
“What’s the other?” she asked suspiciously. “You popped her cherry. Hoping for a repeat?” Her gaze dropped down to his zipper.
He growled. Then presented Marketta his back, fists clenched by his sides. He wanted to grab her by the neck and shake her like a rag doll for suggesting such a thing.
Is she wrong? Even now his cock felt like a steel rod in his pants, his beast riding him hard to complete the bonding. Grimly he acknowledged the truth of her words. Choking on misplaced pride, he forced himself to say, “Tell her I came by to check on her and that I’m sorry.”
It took every bit of strength he possessed to turn and head for the stairway.
“Before you go, answer one question.”
He stopped and waited.
“Why’d you come here? Not this apartment, but why are you here?”
“I came for Von,” he admitted. He took another step.
“You’re white,” she called out.
He halted again and looked over his shoulder. “And?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Some folks might have a problem with that.”
“I love her. You really think I give a damn what other people think?”
His hand was on the railing, foot hovering over the first step when she called out again, “You’ll need to wake her every hour, make sure there’s no swelling on the brain. New ice packs every twenty minutes, and alternate cold with heat. For what it’s worth, I think she loves you, too. Don’t blow it.”
Sean turned, unable to believe he’d heard right.
Marketta stepped out into the landing, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Well? You just going to stand there or are you coming inside?”
He slowly returned to the apartment. What was that, a test? If so, he must have passed.
When he drew even with Von’s cousin, she said, “I never really cared for Derrick, but it’s her life, you know? I can’t tell her how to live it. I hear how she talks about you, and how she talks about him. I think you have a chance with her.” She pushed the door wider and motioned for him to go in.
Inside, he stopped in the living room and looked around. The place appeared exactly as he’d imagined it since Von described it in her letters.
Marketta came past him and sat in one of the chairs. Sean followed her lead and settled onto the other. “Thing is,” she continued, “Von’s fighting so hard not to be like her momma that she’s forgetting to be herself. You know what I mean?”
Sean nodded.
“Everything about Aunt Nookie ain’t bad. She made some bad choices and got caught up in some stuff. Momma said Nook always did like to party a little too hard and had to be the center of attention, but Von’s nothing like her momma. Personality, temperament, all completely different, but she can’t see that. I think that’s why she clings so hard to Derrick.”
She pinned him with a look. “If you really love her, be patient. She may need more time than you have to bring her around to your way of thinking. But if you really want her, don’t give up.”
Marketta rose to her feet. Sean stood as well and trailed her to the door. “When she wakes, tell her I had to go.”
“All right.”
“And Sean,” she paused in the open doorway, “you hurt her, I have a bullet with your name on it.” She gently patted the huge purse she had slung over one shoulder before closing the door softly behind her.
Sean blew out a breath. Von always said Marketta was protective of her. He wondered if Hooch had any idea of exactly what Von’s family was capable of when it came to her safety?
Now that Marketta was gone, Sean took a longer, more leisurely look around Von’s living space. The front door opened right into a small living room with the standard white walls and neutral carpet. Von’s living room set was one of those light blue, overstuffed sets covered in soft material with brown and blue pillows in some sort of design. A glass rectangular coffee table with wrought iron legs sat in the middle of the grouping.
To the left of the open floor plan was her dining room. The table in there was glass as well, matching the coffee table, and surrounded by four black, wrought iron chairs with padded cushion seats. A geometric curtain in varying shades of blue and black covered a sliding glass door, which Sean, when he looked, saw opened onto a small empty balcony.
Von’s kitchen was small, galley style with everything laid out in easy reach. Off the living room was another opening with three doors. One, he could tell instantly, opened to a closet. The center door concealed the bathroom and the left one, Von’s bedroom. A room he hesitated to enter.
Marketta said to wake her every hour, but neglected to tell him how long she’d been asleep. Wanting to see her, to assure himself that she was okay, Sean walked slowly to the door and eased it open.
She lay on top of the covers in a soft spill of golden light from the bedside lamp, wearing a long, white granny gown decorated with small purple flowers. Sean’s gaze traveled over her, beginning with her fine boned narrow feet and slender ankles revealed by the raised hem. Then centered on the small line of buttons running up the middle, tempting him to loosen each one with his teeth. Glanced over the small ruffled collar encasing her swanlike neck, and came screeching to a halt at the ugly bruise that marred the left side of her face.
The rage that infused him when Derrick hit Von rose again, tempting Sean to return to Derrick’s apartment, regardless of the consequences. With extreme difficulty, Sean managed to shake it off. He drew closer and removed the towel from her slack fingers. She stirred and he waited to see what happened.
Von murmured something indistinct and rolled onto her right side, bringing her knees up to her waist and her hand to her mouth. A lock of wet hair fell forward obscuring her face and Sean gently pushed it behind her ear. Despite the bruising, she looked so at peace, he wanted to curl up behind her and curve his body protectively around hers.
Instead he took the damp towel into the restroom, wrung it out, and hung it on the shower curtain to dry. He found a clean washcloth and saturated it with hot water, squeezed out the excess and took it into the bedroom to rest on Von’s face.
“Ketta?”
Sean knelt by the bed so he wouldn’t loom over and possibly frighten her. “It’s me. Your cousin said to tell you she had to leave.”
“Sean?”
“Yeah.”
One deep, dark eye focused on him. “Why are you here?”
“Where else would I be?”
Her gaze darted away. “About earlier,” she began in a soft, hesitant voice, “I’m sor—”

Sean pressed a finger to her lips. “No. You don’t get to apologize for one of the best moments of my life.”
“What?” she mumbled around his finger, and that one eye widened as her gaze shot back to his.
He lightly traced her lips with his fingertip. “I’ve dreamt of making love with you for years. On this last mission, it was only the thought of you that kept me sane.”
Von pulled away from his touch. “What are you saying?”
Sean knew it was too soon to admit the truth, but he wouldn’t get a better opportunity and he was tired of hiding how he felt. “I’m saying that I love you.”
Von shook her head.
He nodded.
“I...you...I love Derrick,” she protested weakly.
He arched one eyebrow. “Do you?”
“Yes!” Her voice was firmer this time.
Sean leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her. Von responded instantly. He kept the kiss gently, careful not to hurt her while still managing to convey all the love and passion he felt for her. He tightened his hands, fisting the covers between clenched fingers to keep from touching her and giving more than she was mentally prepared to receive. Their tongues rubbed together the way he wanted their bodies to and Sean pushed closer, breaking away when a growl rose from his throat and his gums began to itch.
In a low, gravelly voice, he said, “Get some rest. I’ll come in later with more ice.”
He walked out the room, fighting his wolf the whole way. In the living room he sat on the couch, then shot to his feet when he caught the scent of Von and Derrick mingled together. Shit! Hooch may not have penetrated Von, but he’d loved her, touched her, on this very couch.
He went over to the glass sliding door, parted the curtains and stood looking out. The light over the stove, the only light on out front, cast its dim glow onto the glass. He couldn’t see much out the window besides his reflection and a few lampposts illuminating a wooded path winding through the rear of the apartment complex. Then a ghost-like, Victorian figure in white joined his image in the glass.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Sean spoke to her image instead of turning around.
“You can’t make a statement like that and then walk off,” she announced.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”
Her reflection plucked with the folds of her gown. “What happened on your last mission?” she asked instead.
Sean withheld a sigh, somewhat disappointed that she was avoiding the issue now that it was out on the table. “We were captured. I lost over half my team. We barely made it out alive.”
Von gasped.
He turned to face her, noting she’d taken the time to secure her hair in a braid. “I promised myself if I made it out of there alive, I’d come and tell you face-to-face how I feel. See if we had a chance.”
Her gaze dropped to the carpet. “What happened between us was a mistake.”
Sean crossed over to her, stopping when they were toe-to-toe. “Only if you want it to be.”
She lifted her head, her expression one of concern, for him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but my heart belongs to Derrick.”
He cupped the uninjured side of her face and she leaned into the caress. “That’s what your mind says, but your body is saying something different.” Sean nodded, indicating her body posture, the way she unconsciously inclined toward him.
Von jerked back self-consciously. “I didn’t mean...I don’t know why...” She shook her head.