by Karen Renee
“Smart-ass.”
I nodded and left him alone while he merged onto I-4 with the early morning commuters.
Under normal circumstances, the drive to Ponce Inlet would have been just over an hour, but since we had to make our way through downtown Orlando, it took us closer to two hours. During that time, I found that Brock’s taste in music legitimately ran the spectrum. What it did not do was abide commercials.
While he drove and channel-surfed the local radio stations, I asked, “Why don’t you have CDs or something, since you obviously cannot deal with ads on the radio?”
He exhaled his humor. “I do have CDs loaded, but for some idiotic reason, I thought we’d listen to the radio. For one thing, I wanted to catch traffic reports, but this morning they aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. Plus, I thought listening to the radio might give me some idea about the type of music you’re into. Seems you’re cool with anything, so, if you prefer it, I’ll play a CD.”
I smiled at him. “I’m good with anything except really hard-core rap. There’s nothing wrong with it. It just reminds me of bad times.”
His chin went up almost knowingly. “Music does that, doesn’t it? Remind us of good times or the bad times.”
There wasn’t anything I could say to that, so I kept quiet.
He looked to me. “Hope you don’t have anything against the blues. Cause Dad eats, sleeps, and breathes the blues. And sometimes jazz, but definitely the blues.”
I grinned. “Sounds like he’d get along great with my MeMaw and PaPaw. They–”
“Run a bar. I forgot about that.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, remembering he’d had a date with Tennille.
His hand squeezed my thigh. “Baby, let that shit go. She told me about it during a thirty-minute conversation. You can share more with me. Or not, depending on what you feel.”
I nodded and put my hand over his on my leg. “You’re right. So, to sum up, I’m cool with the blues.”
His hand turned over to hold mine. “Good, Sunflower.”
The congestion on the road cleared and we picked up speed. I tried to let Brock’s hand go so he could use both hands to steer, but he held firm. Then he pulled our hands over to his leg. While I took a deep breath, I gave his profile a hard look, but his lips simply twitched in response.
“You’re crazy,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “You told me that once before.”
I nodded. “Well, don’t say I never warned you.”
His chuckle became a laugh and he squeezed my hand.
WE ARRIVED AT BROCK’S childhood home just after nine-thirty. The outside of the house was done in white stucco, but the garage door appeared to be made of rich wood panels. The home looked like it should be on the coast in California.
After being introduced to Warren’s wife Marnie and getting a tour of their beautiful home, I changed into my swimsuit and put my shorts and t-shirt on over it. Whatever Warren did for a living, I marveled at how he was able to raise three sons without a wife and afford such a huge house on primo real estate.
When I opened the door to the bathroom, Brock was standing right there.
My brows furrowed. “You seem to like waiting outside bathroom doors for me.”
He grinned, and shook his head. “No, just wanted to take you to my room so you can drop off your duffel bag.”
My eyes narrowed a touch. “Well, I left it on the bench in the foyer, but I’m pretty sure I could remember the way to your room after the tour.”
He hooked an arm around my shoulders and guided us down the hall. “Can never be too safe, Sunflower. Besides, I didn’t want you to run into Gabe if I’m not around.”
Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and your–”
We were two steps into Brock’s room, and he threw the door closed. His hands suddenly framed my face as he bent toward me. “You didn’t cause any problems, Cecilia. Get that straight right now.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Brock wasn’t finished. “He was way the fuck out of line that morning. Hell, most women would think I was out of line too, since it took me so damn long to step in. I never should’ve let him lay into you like that. Especially since you and I had long since moved on from that shit. The fact you didn’t hold that against me speaks volumes about you, honey.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I shook my head at him. “It really doesn’t, Brock.”
His hands slid up and into my hair. “Yeah, it fuckin’ does, Cecilia. And I warned him last night, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the message loud and clear this morning when he sees me with you.”
A small pang of fear hit me. “What do you mean? ‘Get the message.’ What message?”
He stepped closer to me. “You’re mine, Cecilia. It’s only been a month, but you’re different, and I like that. I like it a lot.”
My mind was see-sawing between being his and the fact that he thought I was different. While it all sounded good, it made that pang of fear become an ache. I wanted to be his because that would mean he was mine, and I loved that he thought I was different. In fact, he was right. The problem was, when he found out that what made me different was my past, he was not going to like it any more. Not at all.
The moment was broken when Warren shouted, “Brockasaurus! Your brother’s here! Get yourself and your beautiful girl down here, pronto!”
I held my laughter in check by a thread.
Brock and I spoke at the same time.
I said, “He did not just call you ‘Brockasaurus?’”
He said, “Fuck. Really?”
I lost my fight with my laughter, and leaned my forehead into his chest while I giggled. When I looked up, Brock’s eyes were dancing over my face. “Don’t be mad at him, honey. It’s actually kind of cute.”
His eyes closed and he shook his head. “The fuck it is, but we better get down there before he says any other shit I don’t like.”
Chapter Seven
Drugs or Disease
Cecilia
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Vamp and his woman, Rainey, had arrived. Warren and Marnie were there giving the couple hugs and handshakes. Rainey’s eyes landed on me, then shot to Brock.
“Brock! I cannot tell you how excited I was to hear that you were bringing a woman with you.” She stepped past Vamp and held her hand out to me. “I’m Lorraine, or Rainey as everyone around here calls me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cecilia.”
I smiled and shook her hand. “It’s great to meet you, too.”
When I looked back to Vamp, his eyes were cautious. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my neck, but I powered past it, reaching toward him. “Hi. I’m Cecilia, and you’re obviously Cary, or sorry, Vamp. Brock’s told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you.”
He took my hand and his lips quirked, but didn’t quite form a smile. “Cecilia. A pleasure. You must be something since Brock hasn’t brought a woman around since–”
“Rainey, Vamp, how about some iced tea? You must be thirsty after riding down here,” Warren interrupted.
The air seemed tense, but Marnie was oblivious to it. “Yes! How could I forget? Cecilia, Brock, do either of you want something to drink? I brewed some fresh iced tea. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Vamp released my hand, and I looked to Marnie. “That sounds great, Mrs. Sullivan.”
Marnie touched my bicep. “Now what did I tell you, dear? Call me Marnie.” She lowered her hand and grabbed mine. “Let’s go.”
I followed her, but still heard Brock hissing to Vamp, “What the fuck, man?”
While I didn’t know what Warren had kept Vamp from saying, it seemed Vamp did not approve of me. I just didn’t know why.
Marnie directed me to get the pitcher of tea from the fridge while she pulled down glasses. Rainey joined us and started filling each glass with ice.
“Was there much traffic on your way here, Rainey?” Ma
rnie asked.
Rainey set the last glass on the counter. “Not really, Marn. But then, we were going against the flow of the traffic in Jacksonville.”
I filled the glasses with tea while paying only half-attention to Rainey’s response.
“And you, Cecilia?” Marnie asked.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Much traffic?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “A little, but that’s Orlando for you. It never takes much to cause a traffic jam.”
“If that ain’t the truth,” Rainey muttered.
“If what ain’t the truth?” Vamp asked, sauntering past me to wrap his arms around Rainey from behind.
Then I saw the back of his leather vest. It bore the same patch as Razor’s, which meant the two of them were brothers in the motorcycle club. Great. That would definitely explain the tension and bad-vibe I was picking up from him. To hear Razor or my sister tell it, only because the Riot MC stepped in was my fat saved from the fryer. My father would have argued otherwise, but then he always carried a chip on his shoulder where bikers were concerned.
Marnie passed out glasses of tea to everyone as the sliding glass door to the patio opened. Gabe walked into the room with a beach towel around his waist and his dark hair mussed. His eyes scanned the room, stopped on me for a second, kept moving, and lit up when he saw Rainey.
“See everyone’s here. Rainey, it’s great to see you as always. Know you want one of my patented bear hugs, and I’d give you one, but–”
“You fuckin’ will not,” Vamp bit out over him.
“I’m all wet.” Gabe finished.
I fought my lips tipping up. The familial vibe was strong, but I couldn’t let myself enjoy it. I steeled myself against absorbing it and wanting more of it in my life. Gabe moved out of the room, and Warren and Marnie went into the living room.
“You two comin’ to the beach with us?” Brock asked Vamp and Rainey.
Rainey beamed at us. “I haven’t been to the beach in weeks.”
I could see Vamp’s arms squeeze her. “Sure you wouldn’t rather hit the pool? Don’t have one at your place.”
Her lips twisted with indecision, then she looked to Brock. “Rain check?”
“Absolutely, hot stuff.”
Vamp’s eyes widened at Brock. “Jesus. First, Gabe. Now, you. Am I gonna have to beat both your asses?”
Rainey turned in his hold, putting her hands on his chest. “Chill out, Cary. I’m gonna go to your room and get my suit on. I’ll see you out here.”
She dashed off, and Brock leaned down to me. “I gotta get my trunks on, babe. Dad interrupted me from doin’ that earlier. Be right back.”
With that, he left me alone with Vamp. I took a sip of my tea hoping he would leave me alone in the kitchen, but when I put the glass down again, I found him staring at me hard. It was really uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t let him see me squirm.
“Heard he’s aware of your drug habit. Also heard you’re clean, so congratulations on that.”
He paused.
“But I gotta ask, did you tell my brother about your former profession? Does he know just how you funded your fix?”
I held his cobalt-blue stare, but I knew good and well I had not ever laid eyes on this guy before today. How he thought he was in the position to judge me, I did not know.
“He doesn’t,” I said in a low voice.
Anger slashed through his face, but before he opened his mouth I spoke.
“I wanted to tell him, but there’s never been a good time.”
“Funny thing about time, Cecilia. It is what you make of it, so make the fuckin’ time to tell him. Christ! You could be carrying God knows what disease and he’s–”
“I’m clean,” I snarled.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been tested so much it’s not even funny. No STDs, no signs of hepatitis, not even a yeast infection.”
My diatribe only made Vamp’s eyes angrier. “He needs to fuckin’ know. Hell, you shoulda told him from the beginning.”
“I know that, Vamp. And I know I have your club to thank–”
He put his glass down with a clatter, the tea splashing onto the island counter. “Show your fuckin’ gratitude by tellin’ him you got your fix by sellin’ yourself. Night after fuckin’ night. And dial down your attitude about my club. Weren’t for us your pimp would still be at it, and probably lookin’ high and fuckin’ low for you.”
Vamp and I were in a stare-down, but it didn’t last long before Brock’s voice spoke in a low, ominous tone. “You sold yourself? You sold your body to get high?”
I turned to him, and the sheer pain in his eyes scored through my heart. God damn it!
“Brock,” I croaked.
He looked to his brother. “You knew before you fuckin’ got here, didn’t you?”
Vamp exhaled slowly. “I had a hunch.”
Brock looked back to me, and asked, “That first night. I asked if you were clean and you asked if I was talking about drugs or disease. Didn’t know why you asked that, but I ignored it. Why wouldn’t you tell me then?”
I felt tears coming, but I battled them back so I could say, “I wanted to, Brock. But seriously? How was that going to go? No damned better than it is right now.”
“Knew there was something wrong with this bitch,” Gabe said from beside Brock.
That did it. I speared him with a nasty look, but my feet took me past all of the men, straight to the foyer. Tears were spilling down my face. Some of those were tears of embarrassment, but mainly they were tears of heartbreak. In some recess of my mind, I heard Rainey asking me a question, but I only had eyes for my purse and my duffel. I thanked my guardian angel that I hadn’t taken it up to Brock’s room earlier. It made leaving that much easier.
Running was never a good answer, but hell if I was going to let those two brothers dog-pile on me along with Brock.
Brock
My little brother stood with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a gloating smirk. I wanted to punch it right off his face.
My older brother had some serious explaining to do. I heard the front door close and footsteps approaching, but I asked Vamp, “You fucking knew about her, and you didn’t fucking tell me?”
Either Rainey didn’t hear my raised voice or she didn’t care because she stopped inside the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “Why in the hell did Cecilia just tear out of here with her purse and overnight bag, looking like her heart was torn out?”
“That cunt doesn’t have a heart,” Gabe muttered.
He was wearing a shirt now, and I used the collar of it to shove him square against the wall. “She’s not a fucking cunt, you asshole!”
“Jesus Christ Almighty! Brock Hudson, let Gabe go. Gabriel, you damned well know that is not a term Sullivans use,” Pop said, striding into the room.
I let Gabe go, turned around to take one step away, but my anger got the better of me. I whipped around and threw an uppercut at Gabe’s gut. It caught him off-guard and his surprised eyes quickly shifted to a look of retaliation, but Vamp came between us.
“Jesus! Brock, get your shit together. Gabe, you had that coming and you know it.”
After a couple of attempts to get his breathing back to normal, Gabe said, “I did fuckin’ not. She’s been playin’ us all along.”
Marnie sidled up to Vamp and looked between us. “Much as I hate to interrupt this display of testosterone and disrespect to a girl who’s been nothing but nice since she got here Brock, you drove her, right? She flew out of here with her purse and her bag. Where on earth does she think she’s going and how is she going to get there?”
“I knew we should’ve driven my car,” Rainey muttered.
“I’ll go look for her,” Vamp said.
“You’ll go?” I demanded. Before he could answer, I added, “It was you who brought all this on her.”
“And a good damn thing he did,” Gabe put in.
I
glared at him. “No, I should go.” Even I could hear it in my voice that going after her was the last thing I wanted to do.
Pop looked between us, then to Rainey. “Maybe Lorraine should–”
“She is not,” Vamp declared, shrugging out of his cut. He folded it and handed it to Rainey. “Sooner this shit’s done, the sooner I can get back here.”
Dad put a hand on the back of my neck and squeezed. “Let’s go sit on the patio. I only heard part of this, so talk it out with your old man, son.”
Chapter Eight
Better Than Your Father?
Brock
I broke away from Pop on the way to the patio to grab my glass of iced tea and the bottle of Southern Comfort from the back counter.
It wasn’t even noon yet, but I didn’t give the first fuck. After all, it wasn’t everyday a guy found out the woman sharing his bed used to be a hooker. Pop took a seat at the patio table, and after I put the bottle between us, I settled next to him.
“Must be something there if you’re pulling out the artillery,” Pop muttered.
I poured a large dose of liquor into my glass and swirled it wishing I’d thought to grab a swizzle stick. Before I took a healthy swallow, I said, “Pop, you gotta know that shit is whacked. She should’ve told me. Fuck, thinking back on it, she was trying to tell me that first night.”
Pop sipped his tea, then poured a smaller glug of liquor into his glass, but didn’t bother trying to swirl it. “You think she wanted to tell you.”
I sighed. “In the car, she kept telling me she was the wrong girl for me. I told her it sounded like bullshit.”
“Did you now?” Pop asked, sounding pleased.
“Just let me tell you about it.”
“Fine, my boy. Go ahead.”
I swallowed some of my drink. “Looking back, she did her best to stick to that theme. I should’ve asked why rather than push giving us a chance.”
Pop chuckled and my fist balled on the table. Pop gave me a light shove on the arm. “Relax, Brock. I laugh because, if you’re anything like me and your older brother, the harder they are to get, the harder we fight to get them. Do you not remember how Cary went after Lorraine when he finally found his way back to her again?”