by Lauren Dane
It got to him in a way that was nearly painful.
He ate with her, listening to music, just being together, but at ten thirty she gave him a look. “Go home and get to bed. You look tired. I’ve been keeping you awake with all my relentless sexual demands. Recharge or you’re useless to me. Especially since I can get food from your mother without you.”
Though he’d slept over once since the first night when she’d had that nightmare, he usually went back home or she left his place.
It wasn’t an issue. He understood why. Was willing to put in the time so she would be comfortable with it.
Still, mornings were way better waking up next to her.
He snorted. “Keeping you sexually satisfied is draining,” he said, tone dry.
She walked him downstairs and they paused near the front door where he then backed her to the closet door. “Are we still on for that hike tomorrow afternoon?”
Wordless, she nodded, her gaze locked with his.
Even though he was tired, just being there with him seemed to ease the edges of the weariness. The scent of her, jasmine and spice, floated between them, settling into him.
She went to her tiptoes and he bent his knees, their mouths meeting in between. It was the way she sighed into him, her body melting against his, arms wound around his neck as she slid her tongue along his, that dug in with claws. Her taste, still like a miracle, was also something he was getting used to, though he craved her as much as he had before they’d ever touched.
Outside on the street he could hear someone out walking a dog. Probably the Swede with the husky. He worked a late shift at a senior center and often was out late with the sweet, blue-eyed dog.
But what seemed to thunder through his head was his own pulse, the one that pounded along with hers against the palm he held against her throat. She stole his breath as well as his heart and when the kiss broke, he leaned his forehead to hers a moment.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he murmured.
“Okay.”
“If I don’t walk out the door right this moment I’m going to stay to fuck you for at least an hour. Maybe two. I’ll be super tired tomorrow morning, but it’ll be worth it.”
She snickered as she pushed him back, a hand at his chest. “I’m torn over which thing I should argue for. My pink parts are cheering for fucking me and being tired. But my heart and brain say go home and rest so we can have enthusiastic sex after the hike. I mean, let’s be real, we could do both but you’d be more tired. So. Go home. I’ll take a fuck-me rain check.”
“I think I should be offended by half of what you say. Instead it turns me on. What can I say? I’m messed up.” He dipped to steal one last very quick kiss and then managed to get out onto the porch where the bracing wind helped rein in his cock. “Sweet dreams, Rachel.”
He left, her scent still clinging to his skin as he hurried through the cold, wet weather back to his bed. His cold, lonely bed where he passed out about five minutes after he flopped into it, pulling the blankets up high.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RACHEL PARKED OUTSIDE the building where Wren told her to meet her and the others from the project committee. Her heart skittered in her chest, nervousness she hadn’t felt in some time.
This was important. And all she could do was hope like hell they liked her stuff.
Wren buzzed her inside and waited at the open door at the top of the first open flight of stairs, along with two other women.
Butterflies in her belly, she pretended to be confident and strode up to meet them.
The collective turned out to be a group of seriously amazing artists of all types. Painters, sculptors, photographers, musicians all. And they all told her they loved her project application and they wanted her and her little birds.
They described what they were doing, what the timeline was and then she was lucky enough to see some of the other projects that had been chosen as well and hoped she could make something half as good.
She never could have imagined this moment five years ago. Even two years ago it was beyond her. And there she was, her future as an artist just really starting to open up and turn into something with real possibility.
An hour later, grinning like a loon, she headed out, clutching the envelope containing her contract to her chest. Elation soared through her. This new stage in her life, despite some bad points, was really good.
She’d made this life. Built it along with help from her friends and small circle of intentional family.
Shooting off a quick text telling Maybe they were going to be celebrating later that night, she stepped out front to find her father leaning against the front fender of her car.
As she continued to walk, the old Rachel clicked into place as she took note of his stance and stopped where she was. He was old now, and had always carried more weight than he should. He’d be slow, even if he tried anything she’d be faster. She was stronger.
Naturally he didn’t move, but stood to his full height, effectively blocking her way to her car door.
“I have a client coming shortly and I need to be at work, so let’s get this over with. What do you want?” she demanded.
“Your mother and I want you to come over for dinner. Just us three so we can set this all right.”
Wow, they had some nerve, she had to give them that. “The only way for you to set this right is for you to drop this legal harassment. That’s it. Now, get away from my car door.”
“So this is how you talk to your parents now?”
“I’m not interested in speaking to you at all. I’ve said this before. I tried to get a judge to say it to you since you didn’t seem interested in listening to me say it. Stop showing up where I am. Stop showing up at my friend’s family business. Stop showing up at my job and at Maybe’s job. We don’t want you in our lives.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Stop telling me what I know.”
“Why are you so intent on starting a fight? I’m your father and you’re hurting your mother so much.”
“I’m done with both of you. She’s your errand boy and you’re a bully.”
“We care about you and want you to be well. You’re not yourself.”
This fucking asshole! Not herself? How would he know? He hadn’t bothered to know her in at least a decade. Not really since she’d gone to college at eighteen. As far as he was concerned, she’d reached perfection the day they’d issued her a badge and a sidearm at the FBI and for him, anything deviating from that meant failure. Meant there was something wrong with her as far as he was concerned.
For him, it wasn’t the weeks held in Price’s basement that was the tragic moment in Rachel’s life, it was the fact that she wasn’t an FBI agent anymore. Jesus. The realization hit her so hard it nearly stole her control altogether.
“Stop,” she said shortly, reining in her temper. She knew how to do this, damn it. She stepped closer, using the fob to unlock her door.
“I guess we’ll see you in court, then. Since that’s what you seem to want. We’re not going to go away, Rachel. We’re your mother and father and we’re not going to let Maybe ruin your life any further.”
That control she’d fought for slipped as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe’s ruining my life? Are you kidding me? Fuck you. You’ve done enough damage to her as it is so leave her name out of your mouth. You’re doing all the damage here. You. For nothing. Because I am not sick. And I don’t need you or anyone else to make my decisions for me. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my health when it’s not about you. And as for court? You need to direct all inquiries to our attorney because all you are to me is my harasser and you’re using the courts to do it.”
Think of him as a suspect. One who believes he’s smarter than he is. You can do this.
She grabbed her car d
oor handle and pulled, displacing him enough to get the door open.
He turned, reaching out to grab her upper arm. Her training had clicked into place and with a slight adjustment, she moved from the way so he’d miss her and stumbled into the car as he left the curb.
“You don’t touch me, old man,” she said in a voice she hadn’t used in many years.
He righted himself but stepped back to the curb a few feet away, keeping his distance.
“I have the legal right to defend myself and I will. Do you understand me?”
His face darkened at the not-so-subtle threat.
Wren came hurtling from the building’s doors and skidded to a stop in front of them. “You, get your hands off her! I’ve called the police so you need to beat it.”
It was so unexpected, so sweet and also funny that Rachel was able to take a breath and get herself back together.
Her father made another run at it, trying to modulate his voice to sound sympathetic. Just a good cop trying to help her out of a bind. “These people are bloodsuckers out to take advantage of your situation. Your so-called boyfriend and his whole family are trying to separate you from your family. It’s an old tactic.”
“But why? Are you saying they’re a cult? Handsome Russian Americans who own successful businesses? Oh no. Out to do what?”
“You have money from your settlement. Money Maybe knows about and why she’s stuck so close to you all this time,” he spat out.
It wasn’t even that much and most of it was in investments and tied up in the house. Moreover, Maybe would sell her plasma to help Rachel, there was no way she’d ever consider taking a loan from her, much less steal her money.
“It’s criminal how little you understand your children,” she said at last. “You lack even the most basic compassion. Is it so hard to believe the people in my life are there because of me?”
“There are good white American men for you to be with and you land with these foreigners? You were raised better.”
She physically recoiled from him at that. “Who are you?” she demanded, sickened at this hatred. “Never mind. Just piss off and get away from me. The cops will be here soon.”
Her father muttered something about green cards and hustled his bulk toward his car, parked across the street.
“What an asshole. Are you all right?” Wren asked her, a hand on Rachel’s arm.
Rachel scanned up and down the block, watching his exit. How the hell did he know she’d be there? Was he following her? That was paranoid of her. Right?
“Come back inside. I’ll get you a cup of tea. I didn’t actually call the police yet because I wasn’t sure what you wanted. We can do that inside too,” Wren said as she pulled Rachel gently toward the doors.
“No. No, I’m fine. I have to get to work.” The last thing she wanted was to be fussed over. It’d only make her edgy and she did truly have a client coming to the shop shortly so she needed to go. “I’m sorry for that entire scene.” She focused on Wren, continued to pretend she wasn’t utterly humiliated. “Thanks for coming to the rescue and I promise this...this won’t be an issue on the project.”
Wren frowned, cocking her head. “I’d never imagined it would be. Are you sure you don’t want to come in? At least for a few minutes. I’d be shaken up if I were you. I can contact Vic if you like.”
Good god no. Rachel shook her head and pasted on a smile. “I’m all right. Thank you for rushing out to my defense. I’m sorry he brought this here.”
“That’s his problem, not yours. Okay?”
Easy to say but if Rachel hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have shown up and caused that scene. It was hard to be confident with new friendships when that sort of thing colored how they felt about her.
Rachel gave a noncommittal nod just to be done. Embarrassment roiled in her belly.
“Well.” Wren took a step back, concern still on her face. “Congratulations again. I’m so excited to be working with you. If you need anything you know where I am.”
She smiled, knowing it was wooden, and got into her car and hoped it didn’t look too much like a panicked escape.
She had to tell Maybe about this but she wasn’t entirely sure how to do it. She didn’t want her sister to feel any more pain because of their parents. No more guilt. No more negative weight. If she could get away with it, she wouldn’t have told anyone. But Wren would eventually tell Gregori and once the Russians knew it would get back to Maybe via any one of them, most likely Alexsei.
Damn it.
When she parked at the pay lot a few blocks from the shop she called a familiar number she hadn’t had to use in a while.
“I was just about to walk out the door for the day but I see your name on my screen so you know I’m all about answering,” Bee said as she picked up. “Tell me what’s going on in Seattle.”
Bee—short for Beatriz—was Rachel’s previous therapist. And also big sister to Cora and Finley. She still lived in Virginia and Rachel had a replacement therapist in Seattle she still saw on a regular basis, but at times like this, she reached for old friends who’d known her at her weakest.
Rachel got Bee up to speed on what had happened. “I know I need to tell Maybe. Any advice on the best way?”
Bee sighed. “There you go, putting other people first. How do you feel about it?”
“How do you think I feel? Helpless to make this shit stop. Agitated that I have to face it over and over when I just want to live my fucking life. He’s out there doing God knows what, always trying to mess with my life. I hate it. And then I feel selfish and petty for thinking that when there are real problems in the world.”
“So everything is your fault again. Makes sense. Look, sweetcakes, just be open and blunt with your sister. That’s what she needs. And what she needs is what you need. I get that. You can’t make it hurt less when it’s about him. But I have every confidence you’ll say it the way you need to. She loves you and she trusts you. He doesn’t know what to do with that. Because he doesn’t inspire that love and trust. Your love and trust sustained him for a long time.”
“I only loved and trusted him from afar. And because I didn’t know about what he’d done to Maybe.”
“Whatever. The point is, he’s not being sustained the way he was before. When you did the job he saw as a way of validating him as a father and a man.”
A job she’d walked away from.
A job whose echoes still rattled around in her head at least three times a week.
“What can I do to make him go away?” Rachel heard the pleading tone in her voice but there was no sense pretending. Not with Bee who’d heard her at her very worst.
Bee sighed. “Oh, honey. I wish I had the power to do that for you. I can’t believe the court didn’t give you that order. Assholes.”
“Well there was a good chance they wouldn’t. You and I both know that. He never threatened to harm me. Not like that. And he’s one of them. He knows how to talk to a judge. Knows how to make himself look like a dad trying to make things right with his kid. He has no record.”
“Still. What could it have hurt to just give you the order?”
An old complaint. One she herself had made more than once. She understood the legal whys in the abstract. But it wasn’t abstract. It was her life and she had to live it.
“Even today he was careful. He tried to grab my upper arm but I evaded him easily. That’s what he’d say to a judge. Maybe he’ll claim I was going to stumble or whatever. And I look like a complainer and he gets to be the concerned father. And in the end, nothing will change except he’s used the system to force me to react. Again.”
“Seems to me you have the basis of what to say to Maybe then. She trusts you but she also knows you’re not superhuman. You can’t stop this from happening to her. It already did. She’s strong and smart and she’s got a wonderful support sys
tem. Right now you’re the one he’s focused on. You’re his target.”
Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I wish there were easy answers, sweetcakes. But one thing remains. It always remains. You survived. You are a survivor and if you can survive Price, you can survive a petty asshole like your father.”
It would be so nice to have someone come in and make all this go away. But she was a survivor, damn it and she wasn’t going to let her father steal that. She’d have to handle this. She would handle this.
“Thanks for answering when I called,” Rachel told her. “And for the pep talk. I mean it. I have a client so I need to run.”
“I’ll always pick up or call you right back. You got this, Rach. I believe in you. I’ve seen your strength over and over.”
When she got out of the car, it was to see the swoop of black wings as crows flew past. “Smart, wee beasties.” Grinning, she tossed them some sunflower seeds she kept in her bag just for that occasion. These birds were a murder that often hung out near Ink Sisters and whenever she saw them she liked to feed them.
They cawed at her, knowing her, thanking her for her gift. Or so she liked to think. Whatever it was, it pleased her to feed them. Crows were clever and badass and slightly scary.
Qualities Rachel needed to embody if for no other reason than not letting her father win. He would not steal her freedom.
The phone call had been good. What she’d needed. Certainly enough for the time being. Enough to get her through the next few hours of her appointments. Enough that she was able to pull herself together and figure out what to say to Maybe when she got home.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VIC POPPED INTO Whiskey Sharp to get a quick trim and shave before he went over to Rachel’s. It’d give him a chance to check in with Maybe to see if she’d heard any news about the art project yet.
He preferred Maybe’s shaves to Alexsei’s. His cousin could be dictatorial and Maybe smelled a lot better and did what he told her to do.