“Open the door, Quentin! I know you’re in there! Your car is out back!”

I grunted, rolling over to check the time on my phone. A little before seven.

What the hell?

“Quentin! Open the goddamned door!”

Malaika moaned beside me, her naked body pressing itself tighter against my side. I leaned over and kissed her temple before carefully untangling myself from her, from the sheets, from everything that had gotten wrapped up in the bed with us during the night. She shifted again, the sheet falling from her long, supple back. I wanted nothing more than to stay in that bed with her, to run my fingers along the curve of her spine and watch her slowly work back up to the frenzy we’d both enjoyed last night.

But I couldn’t ignore the pounding on my door or the harsh voice that could probably be heard miles away.

“Quentin! You have to talk to me! I won’t be ignored!”

I tugged on my jeans and glanced at Malaika once more before opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

“What the hell, Rowena?”

She smacked my bare chest. “Asshole! Did you think I wouldn’t hear that you had breakfast with my daughter yesterday? That you’ve been flirting with her over text messages?” She held up a phone that I knew wasn’t hers and began to read. “’You took my breath away when you walked into the bank yesterday.’ ‘I can’t believe how beautiful you are. Makes me wish I’d paid more attention in high school.’” She hit me again. “How could you do this, Quentin?”

“You and I are finished. What I do now is none of your business.”

“She’s my daughter, Quentin!” She pushed at me, shoving me back against the door. “How could you do this? First that video, and now this? Makes me wonder if you’re setting us up for something!”

I tilted my head slightly, thinking it was about time she put it all together. The woman wasn’t the brightest bulb, but I think even a completely naive woman would put two and two together and figure things out after that video.

Apparently, not Rowena.

“This is done.” I grabbed her wrist and pushed her back against the far wall, speaking as close to her face as I could so that the sound of our argument wouldn’t travel. After all, Patrick was still living in a room just a few doors down. “You won’t come here again, Rowena.”

“Just like that? You’re washing your hands of me like we never meant anything to each other?”

“We didn’t. We fucked, that was all!”

She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” she said, her spittle raining over my face. “How could you say that after everything we did together? I did things for you that I’ve never…” Tears began to spill from her eyes. “Was it always just a joke to you?”

“Go home, Rowena.”

I turned, and she gasped. “You’ve got someone in there right now, don’t you! And I know it’s not my daughter because I left her asleep in her bed!”

“You’re married. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

I laughed. “You’re calling me an asshole, but you’re the one who cheated on your husband, the one who was so willing to jump into my bed that I hardly had to say two words to get you there.” I let my eyes rake over her, dismissing her with a simple glance. “At least I didn’t betray my entire family.”

“No. You just abandoned them when they needed you the most. Tell me, Quentin. Why aren’t you in Yuma with the rest of your family?”

I shoved her hard against the wall, the plaster cracking around her head. My face less than a hair from hers, I stared into her suddenly frightened eyes.

“Don’t you fucking talk about my family! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I know they lost everything when my husband foreclosed on them. I know your mother’s sick. I know you’re here, and they’re there. And I know you don’t seem to give a shit about your father working two jobs just to put a roof over their heads!”

I wrapped my hand around her throat and squeezed.

“And I know it’s all because of your husband. And now he’s about to lose everything he ever had: his wife, his job, his daughter. And he knows that it’s because of me. He’s known since the beginning I was fucking you. But did he ever bother to tell you he knew?” I squeezed a little harder. “My guess is, he’ll divorce you the second the church tosses his ass into the street!”

Her eyes were wide, nearly bugging out of her head. I squeezed a moment longer, then let her go and watched as she doubled over, sucking in air.

“Get out of here, Rowena. And don’t ever come back.”

I didn’t wait to see her walk away. I slammed my way into my hotel room, my hands balled into fists, needing to punch something. Malaika was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up over her chest.

“What was that?”

I shook my head, storming into the bathroom. I caught sight of myself in the mirror over the sink with her words…you don’t give a shit…playing over and over in my head. I couldn’t stand to look at myself anymore.

I slammed my fist into the mirror, then again for good measure.

Blood poured from multiple cuts on my knuckles. I didn’t care. I slammed both hands down on the counter, mindless of the scattered shards of glass, and screamed, pouring out all the guilt and the anger and the frustration that Rowena had just awoken inside of me.

“Are you done?” Malaika asked.

I couldn’t look at her. I’d sworn last night that I’d never hurt a woman, and this morning I did exactly that. I was everything Rowena had just said I was and more. I had abandoned my family. I was an asshole. Why this beautiful woman was here with me right now, why she hadn’t gone running for the hills the moment she set eyes on me, I would never know.

She came into the room, stepping carefully around the shattered glass, naked as the day she was born. She laid her hands on my waist and gently pulled me back.

“Let me clean this up.”

“No. You should go.”

“Didn’t you learn anything about me last night, Quentin? I don’t like being told what to do. I give the orders.”

I shook my head, my chest heavy, too heavy for me to catch my breath.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If I was afraid, I wouldn’t be here.” She tugged at me. “Come on. Let’s clean up your hands before you bleed all over the place.”

I let her guide me out of the room. She pushed me into a sitting position on the bed and retreated to the bathroom to get a towel. “Do you have tweezers?” she called.

“In my toiletry kit.”

She came back a moment later, the entire kit in her hands. “You’re well prepared. Do you do this often?”

“No. Just habit. Once a Marine…”

She nodded, digging through the bag and pulling out tweezers, gauze, and tape. She lifted my hand and pressed a wet rag to it, the pain almost a relief as it rushed through me.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

She knelt in front of me, her heavy breasts brushing my legs from time to time as she moved. Carefully, she picked teeny pieces of glass out of my knuckles and palms, dabbing each cut with the wet towel as she went along. When she was satisfied she had gotten all the glass out, she wrapped my hands in the gauze and taped it in place. Blood immediately began to ooze through the layers of bandages and stain the perfect white surface. She wrapped more on top, pulling it tight to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

“You’ve done this before.”

“I told you, my father’s Irish. Everyone in my family has something of a temper.”

She didn’t look up as she spoke, making me wonder if there was more to that simple statement than was obvious. But I didn’t think now was the time to pursue the subject.

She was still on her knees, her body more erotic and innocent all at the same time than I would have imagined possible. I wanted to touch her, but I was afraid my touch was the last thing she wanted right now. But then her eyes slowly came up to mine, and there was this nakedness in them that was so much more than the act of exposing her body. It was like she was showing me something she’d not shown anyone before.

It took my breath away.

“Malaika,” I said softly, lifting my hand to brush my fingers against the side of her face.

But then the moment was gone, and the walls came back up.

She stood and brushed off her hands, tossing the medical supplies back into my toiletry kit.

“We should go to my room to shower. It’ll take a while for someone to clean up that mess in there.” She pulled on her dress and glanced back at me. “Coming?”

I followed, always a good soldier.