Savior: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Five
Page 6
“Yeah? Fuck you, Masterson!”
With a low growl, I shoved off the bar and moved toward the door. The vein in my forehead throbbed steadily, as I turned to face him again. “Excuse the fuck out of my goddamn French, but you don’t know jack shit about my life! I’ve got everything under control over here, so, thanks for showing up to rub it in my face that I’m not a cop anymore, but you can shove your concern right up your motherfucking ass! I’ve got barbecue to get!”
My fist hit the wooden door, sending it flying open. Zane’s mouth turned up in a grin. “Just one more thing before you stomp out of here…”
“What?” I snapped.
He lifted his palm in the air. “I’ve got your keys, but since you used your manners, I’ll let you stop for barbecue on the way home. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll even grab some ice cream. How’s that sound, pumpkin?”
I was going to murder him.
Just as soon as I sobered up.
* * *
“Help him! Oh my god—please!” Lauren screamed from somewhere near my head. I was going to be deaf.
I kept my eyes closed and tried reaching across the bed toward her but found I couldn’t move. It didn’t matter. I was in a state of complete bliss.
The woman I loved had literally just fucked the life out of me.
It wasn’t a bad way to go.
My dick hardened again, almost to the point of pain, and I grinned. Guess he’d decided if we were going down, he was getting his one last time. With the way Lauren’s hormones had been, it wasn’t going to be difficult to talk her into another round.
Saliva filled my mouth, and I shook my head, wishing like hell that I had full use of my arms so that I could stroke my cock to the thought of her. Lauren had always been gorgeous, but the pregnancy seemed to enhance her beauty to the point that I would’ve happily agreed to remain in this state if it meant I got to have her as much as I wanted.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please let him be okay.”
Darlin’, he’s just fine. In fact, I’d say he’s better than fine. See for yourself.
I liked that the pregnancy hormones made her horny, but they also made her emotional as fuck. She’d cry at the drop of a hat… or dick. Just last week, I’d witnessed her falling apart over a yogurt commercial.
Nobody warned me about that before I knocked her up.
“Hold his arms,” a male voice directed, and suddenly, I was no longer in a peaceful state.
If she’d gone and set up a three-way, I was going to lose it. I’d always been very specific that the only way I was getting involved in one was if she went and found another woman as hot as she was. I’d also been clear that she needed to be a redhead.
We’d have ourselves a ginger snap.
There was no way in hell I was sword fighting with another guy. Not when I’d worked this hard coming up with a clever name for a ménage.
“I’m going to stick him again.”
Holy fuck—again?
Had I not just been fucking Lauren? Had I been receiving a hot beef injection this entire time? What the fuck did Fred put in that tequila?
My eyelids were weighted, but I forced them open and sat up with a gasp, no longer willing to be a bottom for any man.
I was a top, goddammit.
The blurry figure above me gripped my shoulder as he breathed a sigh of relief. “There he is. Mike, do you know where you are?”
I blinked through my streaming eyes, slowly taking in my surroundings while trying to place the voice. “The bathroom floor?”
“That’s right. Do you remember how you got here?” Another voice asked, one I knew all too well.
Fucking Jimmy.
My lungs heaved, and I began coughing violently, every muscle in my body aching. Either I was coming down with the flu, or I’d been beaten. Given what I remembered of my conversation with Zane, I was going to guess it was the latter.
“Did Big Guy kick my ass?” I rasped with a shudder. “Or was it you? You better hope it wasn’t you, Jimmy boy, because so help me—”
“You overdosed, Mike,” the guy above me stated flatly. “You were in respiratory distress, so I injected you with several doses of Naloxone. The real credit goes to your wife, though. She performed CPR until we got here and could take over… probably saved your damn life.”
I ran a trembling hand over my face. “Lauren? Is she—”
“Okay, I am back. How is he doing?”
I groaned upon hearing Gloria’s voice, knowing it would’ve been better if Lauren just left me to die.
My vision cleared enough for me to see that the other guy in the room was Nate. It looked as if Dr. Husband had put aside our differences to keep me breathing. “Admit it,” I taunted with a cocky smirk, shivering uncontrollably from the high fever I seemed to be running. “You wanted to let me die, right?”
Gloria’s eyes narrowed, and she began speaking in rapid Spanish, jabbing a finger into my chest to drive home whatever point she was trying to make.
Nate released his hold on my shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest before leaning against the counter near the sink. “Lauren found you seizing on the bathroom floor next to a bag of what appeared to be cocaine. Given what we’ve seen in the ED lately, I assumed it was laced with fentanyl and dosed you accordingly. Your drugs were dirty, Detective.”
I’d gone to all the trouble of busting up a drug ring, and the bastards hadn’t even gotten the good shit.
Ignoring Jimmy’s extended hand, I managed to get to my feet. “I need to talk to my wife—”
“No.” Gloria stopped me with her hand. “I tell Dave to take Lauren to his house. We will pack a bag for her, and then Dr. Nate will come to check the babies.”
“Is this what you want out of life, Mike?” Jimmy stepped in to ask. “Your pregnant wife performing rescue breaths and chest compressions on you every time you lose control?”
“No,” I snapped. “If you’d just give me a goddamn minute to talk to her, I could sort this shit out, Lurch.”
He cracked the knuckles on his right hand with his thumb. “You aren’t getting within ten feet of her… not strung out like you are. Jesus Christ, look at yourself. You could’ve hurt her.”
The thought of Lauren on her hands and knees trying to revive my sorry ass left me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d sworn that the only drug I’d needed was her; had promised to never let her see that side of me.
“I’d never hurt her,” I said quietly. “She’s too important to me.”
Nate looked up toward the ceiling. “You’ve OD’ed before, I take it?” When I nodded, he asked, “And who cleaned up that mess?”
“Grey.”
He nodded. “I’m sure that felt good for him… seeing his son like that. Make no mistake, you’re hurting the people who love you every time you choose that shit over them. Is this how you wanna die?”
“Is that the same crap you spout off to all your patients, Doctor?”
“Personally, I don’t give a flying fuck what you choose to do with your life, but you’re family now, and there are quite a few people who need you to stick around. Grey’s gone, Mike. It’s time to sober the fuck up and move on. Your family’s relying on you.”
I sank down on the edge of the tub, my thigh muscles quivering from the stress of holding up my body. “Weren’t you on call the night he was shot?”
He rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “Maybe worry about yourself first, yeah? Give that a try, and then we’ll talk about me. You need to be monitored, is there someone I can call for you?”
“I can stay,” Jimmy offered.
“Fuck. That,” I bit out.
Nate rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. “You’re not staying by yourself.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I’m staying with my wife. Now, if someone could go get her for me—”
“Absolutely not,” Jimmy interjected. “The last thing she needs right now is to be taking care
of you.”
Gloria nodded her approval before squeezing his arm. “Jimmy is right. Como deseó ver a Lauren darte una cachetadas en la cara.” She smacked her palms together with a glare.
“She said she wants to see Lauren slap your face,” Jimmy helpfully translated with a chuckle.
Gloria nodded. “Sí. I will move in and bring you back to health. When I am through with you, you will not want las drogas ever again.”
I massaged the side of my aching head. “Actually, I think I’ll just take my chances with Jimmy. He seems like he has a little more experience here.”
Gloria’s medical expertise seemed limited to Windex and holy water. There was no way that I’d survive detoxing in the same house as her.
She waved a hand in my direction. “Estas dos tetas pueden llevar más que mil caballos.”
“The fuck does that mean?” I snapped.
Jimmy leaned down and clutched his thighs, eyes streaming with tears. “She just said that her tits have carried more than a thousand horses. Basically, she can handle anything… including you.”
Look everyone, Jimmy’s still a multilingual motherfucker.
Chapter Four
Kate
I looked down at the address scrawled on a torn piece of notebook paper and then back up at the boarded-up windows on the farmhouse.
There was no way this was the right place.
Sunlight caught the shards of glass littering the front yard, making it seem as if the dead grass was sparkling. It was the only positive I could find for a house that had either been abandoned or condemned.
I slammed the car door behind me, the sound echoing off the siding, and cautiously made my way up the porch steps. It was like the start to every cheesy horror film ever—the young and naïve therapist who took a wrong turn, ending up alone at a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
Any second now, a man wielding a chainsaw was going to come tearing around the side of the house, ready to dismember my body to hang in his shed.
Canceling an entire afternoon of patients to come here had been madness.
If Nate found out…
I shuddered and opened the screen door, quickly rapping my knuckles against the scarred wooden door beneath it before I lost my nerve.
A short Hispanic woman with wavy hair approached, her eyes narrowing as she took me in. “What do you want?” she demanded, pulling the door open several inches. “You think because my granddaughter is not here, you will come and disrespect her in her own home?”
The heel on my shoe chose that moment to snap off, and I fell over on the porch with a decidedly unladylike grunt.
“And drunk?” The older woman clicked her tongue against her teeth before yanking me back to my feet. “He will not be seeing the… cómo es qué se llama esa mierda?”
She waved a hand as if struggling to find the right word. Unfortunately, I knew next to nothing when it came to Spanish and had no way of knowing what she was asking.
“Uh, the word? He will not be seeing… las prostitutas as long as there is breath in my body. He needs to dry up.”
I winced at the one word that I’d been able to understand and looked down at my modest black blouse and cream-colored dress pants, wondering which part of the outfit screamed prostitute. “Well, I’m his sister… and a therapist.”
I wasn’t here to counsel him, but it seemed essential to throw my profession out there, lest she think I was a lady of the night.
“His sister?” The woman all but shrieked. “Come in, come in. I fix your shoe for you. Are you hungry?” She squeezed my arm as she led me through the dark house. “You are too thin. I make you something. I am Gloria, Lauren’s abuela, but everyone just calls me Abuelita. You can too, okay?”
I nodded, no longer unbalanced from the broken heel, but the complete change in the woman’s personality. If I hadn’t been here to visit my brother, I would’ve wanted to spend my time picking her brain.
“Um, okay. Is Mike—”
“In here. He will be so happy to see you. All day long, nothing but sitting and staring at the wall. I tell him he needs sunshine to get better, and do you know what he says to me?”
“Shut up, Gloria,” Mike grumbled from beneath a pile of quilts on the couch. “Just shut the fuck up.”
“Sí, that is what he says. Maybe he will do better with you. You sit.” She gestured toward a chair that appeared to have bullet holes in it. “I will whip you up something. You are nothing but skin and bones.”
I slowly sank down onto the chair, watching the couch for any signs of life. “Mike? It’s Kate. I was just—”
“Come to shrink my head, Doc?” he muttered, still completely hidden from view.
I picked at a stray thread on my dress pants. “Oh, um, I’m not a doctor… just a licensed counselor.”
“Oh, that’s right. That’d be your husband. Did he send you to check on me? Is that his good deed for the day?” His hand shot out, and he tugged the quilts down toward his waist. I straightened in the chair at the sight of him, fighting to remain seated, instead of running screaming for the door.
This was worse than a chainsaw-wielding maniac.
Nate had told me he was bad, but nothing prepared me for seeing it in person. Mike looked nothing like the man who’d rallied everyone together in the middle of a cemetery just last month. His wavy hair hung down past his chin, the matted areas looking more brown than dark blond, and the blue eyes that had always reminded me of my father and sister were no longer clear and bright but bloodshot and rimmed in dark circles.
I cleared my throat and placed my palms on the armrests, just as I’d done for countless other patients. “Nate doesn’t know I’m here. I’d prefer to keep it that way if you catch my meaning.”
He smirked before shuddering violently, causing him to reach for the quilts again. “Keeping secrets from old Nathaniel already? Can’t see how that could backfire.”
Emotion flooded my veins, and my fingers tightened against the fabric, and it took everything in me to keep my voice calm and my words professional. “What about your secrets, Mike? What would you say that’s cost you?”
His eyes sharpened, and the grin faded from his lips just as Gloria entered the room. The plate she carried in her hands was overflowing with food, her mouth stretched wide in a grin.
“I fix you a little something to get some meat on your bones. You do not want to lose tus montañas.”
I frowned, and she held out a bony index finger, circling it in the vicinity of my breasts. My cheeks heated and I nodded, indicating that I understood, hoping she didn’t elaborate further. He might’ve been my brother, but it wasn’t so long ago that I’d entertained the idea of ending up with someone just like him.
She pinched my cheek. “Enjoy it. Mike, do you want for me to make you something?”
His jaw tightened as he shook his head, and she disappeared back into the kitchen, happily humming to herself.
I stared down in wonder at the breaded steak topped with a fried egg resting on a bed of white rice. “Is this a typical brunch around here?”
“For Gloria it is.” He lowered his voice. “What do you want, Kate? Why’d you come here?”
I speared the hunk of meat with my fork and cut off a tiny sliver. In my effort to avoid looking at the monstrosity that was now Mike, my eyes landed on a row of bullet holes in the wall behind the couch. “What happened to your house?”
He looked to where I was pointing and rolled his eyes. “The Sons of Death happened, Kate. Did you forget?”
The Sons.
A name that had meant nothing until the night my father was shot. Even months later, no one seemed to know anything about the elusive club. They’d disappeared just as quickly as they’d arrived.
“Well, I just thought…” I shoved a forkful of egg and meat into my mouth and deliberately chewed slowly to avoid finishing the sentence. The meat was so tender it felt as if it would dissolve on my tongue, and it took everything in me to stifle t
he moan on my lips.
I’d had chicken fried steak before, but this was on an entirely separate plane of existence.
“You just thought, what?” Mike pushed, before snagging the fork from my fingers and cutting a piece for himself. Bits of egg yolk clung to his scraggly beard as the steak disappeared into his mouth, taking with it any desire I had for another bite.
I swallowed. “I mean, that happened a couple of months ago, right? I sort of thought that you would’ve repaired it by now.”
His eyes narrowed. “Been a little busy, pumpkin. So, why the fuck did you come here? The real reason this time.”
“I came because I have some questions… about our father.”
He let out a rough bark of laughter, and I looked up just in time to see him wince.
“Body aches?” I asked, and he nodded. “That’s pretty common during withdrawals. What about tremors? Headaches?”
He closed his eyes briefly before nodding again, his throat bobbing up and down in a swallow. “Yeah… all of that.”
“What about the cravings? Are they?” I paused, trying to choose my words carefully. “Do you want to use again?”
Mike took a deep breath. “I think I’ll always want to use, Kate. I’m an addict. If it’ll fuck me up, make me forget for a while, I’m interested.”
“What is it you want to forget?” I whispered, already feeling the sting of unshed tears behind my eyelids.
He didn’t have to say anything.
I knew.
It was the entire reason for my visit.
The two of us shared the same pain, the same feeling of betrayal. We’d just dealt with it in entirely different ways. I’d avoided all contact with my mother and sister, choosing to drown myself in work while he’d turned to drugs and alcohol.
Instead of telling me to fuck off, Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want to forget that the man I idolized abandoned us.”
I nodded. “Is that what triggered your relapse, do you think?”
I knew next to nothing about my half-brother, other than the fact that he was a cop. I’d only found out that he was using drugs when Lauren called Nate for help the night he overdosed. It wasn’t as if I was unfamiliar with addicts; I’d even spent time counseling a few when I was just starting out.