Whiskey Sharp--Jagged

by Lauren Dane

  She leaned her head on Vic’s shoulder.

  Satisfied.

  * * *

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER they were alone at Vic’s place. She’d retreated a little, settling in a deep club chair with her sketchpad. But she was in his house. Spending time with him and he didn’t need her focused on him every moment.

  That she was comfortable enough to hang out, not dependent on him to entertain or keep her busy meant a lot.

  “Vic? Someone’s at the door,” Rachel told him with a smirk that said she’d known he was watching her so intently he hadn’t heard the knocking.

  When he opened up, his sister stood there. “Hi. Feed me,” she said as she breezed inside, pulling up short when she caught sight of Rachel. She lifted a hand. “Hey, Rachel. Sorry, I interrupted something. I’ll come back later.”

  “Hey, Evie. No need to leave. You said you were hungry? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” Rachel told her before going back to her sketchbook.

  Vic grinned at his sister, who visibly relaxed. “Get me a beer while you’re up too.”

  Evie brought him a beer and a glass of water for Rachel.

  “We missed you tonight at Gregori’s,” he told her.

  “I drove Mom and all the rest of the ladies to the casino and hung out with them so I could drive them all back when they were done. And by the way, have you seen how much they can drink? I honestly had to roll more than one of them into the car at the end and threaten to kick anyone out if they barfed. Mom won a few hundred bucks at the slot machines. Tipped me fifty for being their driver she said.”

  Vic snorted. “Look at it this way, the next few times they go, someone else will play chaperone.”

  Evie snickered. “To be totally honest with you? They’re all a hoot. They’ve set sail to I-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck Island and it’s fun to hang out with them.”

  Rachel laughed. “Your mother and her friends are definitely a hoot. They all know so much and it’s spooky and awesome at the same time.”

  Vic warmed at the words. He loved that Rachel understood how magic his mother was.

  “Tonight they were telling me stories about all the men who’d done them wrong and how they’d gotten even. I learned some stuff, let me tell you. If Vic messes up, let me know,” Evie told Rachel.

  The two had warily been making attempts at getting to know one another not just as neighbors, but much more like family. Now that Rachel was doing Evie’s ink, they’d been around one another a lot without Vic around.

  It pleased him to see.

  Rachel winked at Vic before she thanked Evie for the offer.

  Evie looked to Rachel and then back to Vic. There was something she wanted to tell him but didn’t know if she could say it in front of Rachel.

  Vic tipped his chin to indicate it was okay with him so it was up to Evie.

  “Tonight when I stopped by to pick Mom up, I overheard one of them tell her the girl’s parents are talking about Danil again. Trying to stir up trouble for Mom and Dad at church,” Evie said at last.

  Rachel was paying attention, but remained silent.

  Danil’s old girlfriend had been with him when he’d died. Her family had blamed—rightfully in part—Danil for their daughter’s descent into opiate addiction.

  “Did you talk to Mom about it?” he asked his sister.

  “No. She avoided being alone with me all night long so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Did Aunt Klara say anything?” Gregori’s mother was Irena’s sister and they were very close.

  “When I dropped Mom off, Aunt Klara stayed there so I think they were going to talk about it.” Evie looked into Vic’s eyes. “This is going to open up all those wounds again.”

  Vic went to her, taking her hands. “I’ve told you before, this is something they’re always going to be hurt by. Something you and I will always be hurt by too. He was our brother and their son. And that girl is someone’s daughter and sister.” He smiled at her softly. “Thank you for telling me. I promise to keep an eye on her. They surface once a year or so. I guess it’s time. They’ll go away if we don’t engage.”

  His little sister looked sad a moment. She’d been barely eighteen back when Danil had died. Barely more than a kid and for most of her life their brother had been a fuckup of one type or another.

  She’d grown up with an addict in the house and it had left a mark. On him too.

  “How’s the tattoo healing up?” Rachel asked her, artfully changing the subject so Evie would feel better.

  “Itchy. But it’s all good. I take it we’ll have you and Maybe with us this weekend?”

  The bakery had a table at a food fair that weekend at Seattle Center and the Dolan sisters would naturally be there to help. His mother hadn’t even asked, which Rachel and Maybe seemed charmed by.

  His mother had strange and wondrous powers of persuasion.

  “Yes you do. I’ll see you bright and early Saturday morning,” Rachel said.

  “Cool. Mom can’t stop talking about you. So keep on being good to Vic so she can keep being happy. She’s a bear when she’s not happy.”

  That made Rachel chortle a little. “I’ll try to keep it up. It’s not that hard, your brother is pretty cute and your mother brings me food.”

  “She bakes for you when she loves you,” Evie told her. “Kidding aside, you’re good to her. You let her teach you stuff and that makes her so happy.”

  Rachel shook her head. “It’s the other way around. It’s your mom who lets me learn from her. She’s ridiculously patient with me, though she did crack my knuckles with that flat wooden spoon of hers once.”

  The three of them shuddered a moment. His mom was small but unexpectedly quick with that spoon if you got out of line.

  “It’s always wise to stay out of reach when she’s got that spoon,” Vic advised. “Think of her like a crocodile. She can leap.”

  The three of them dissolved into laughter.

  “Anyway, she’s opened her kitchen to me and I know that’s the heart of your family. So I’m honored she’d think I was worthy. And she’s got great stories.”

  Before Vic could stop it, his sister piped up immediately demanding to know what stories.

  Rachel’s glance in his direction told him the story was going to be about him in some way and he braced himself.

  “She told me about the time there was a kitten in the big evergreen in your backyard and how you climbed up to get it and then once you handed the kitten off you puked all over her because you’d been terrified the whole time but didn’t realize it until you’d handed your cargo off.”

  “Did you meet Ashes or just hear the story?” Vic asked of their fat, persnickety old family cat.

  “He came out to hang with me and your dad while we had our tea. Your mother sneaked little bits of meat to him when she thought no one was looking.”

  “She acted like she was going to make us find a home for him at first. But she’s the one who started calling him Ashes. My dad shook his head at her and said, ‘Now you’ve done it’ and went on with his life.”

  “Your mom has a crunchy exterior but on the inside she’s all goo. Not that she won’t cut a bitch who messes with her or her family, but you know what I mean,” Rachel said.

  “What’s your mom like?” Evie asked. “I mean, if you want to talk about it and you probably don’t. So no big deal, let’s pretend I never asked.”

  “The conservatorship was tossed out today. So I’m feeling free tonight. I can tell you what she was like for me. But I will also tell you that’s not who mothered Maybe. She was different for both of us in some ways. Anyway. Compared to your mom, mine is a lot smaller. She takes up less space. She doesn’t have opinions in the same way. I mean, she’s got opinions on everything, but unless it’s about clothes or
hair, my dad told her what to think and that’s how she believes.”

  “Clearly that didn’t rub off on you or Maybe,” he muttered, startling Rachel into a laugh.

  “She tucked me in every night of my childhood. Put bandages on my scrapes, attended my school stuff like softball games and spelling bees. Took pictures of my dresses on formal dance nights. But her kitchen was perfect when she wasn’t cooking. So there was no hanging out and drinking tea in there. There was no rummaging through the fridge for snacks. No thrown-together popcorn-for-dinner night with string cheese and an orange because you were tired or hadn’t gone to the grocery store.”

  “She’s like the anti-Irena,” Evie said.

  Vic exclaimed, intending to rein his sister in. But Rachel said, “Ha! Yes, pretty much. Like for real I get that your mother is ride-or-die for your dad. You can see it in how they are with one another. But she’s not his messenger. Not unless she wanted to be. She’s got her own opinions. Her own mind. And she might whack you with that spoon but she accepts her kids for who they are and she’d never allow anyone to harm them.”

  Which was totally true. And why they’d been so utterly devastated when Danil had died. They’d failed to protect their child. It didn’t matter that he’d been an adult. It didn’t matter that they’d tried time and again to get him help and he’d relapsed every time.

  * * *

  “SHE’LL NEVER GET over the failure she feels about Danil,” Vic told Rachel later, after Evie had dashed off home.

  “Your mom or Evie?”

  “Both probably. God knows we all have guilt about it.”

  “So his girlfriend’s parents go to the same church as your parents?” Rachel asked.

  “We all used to go to the same church. They weren’t close family friends, but of course we knew them. And when she ended up with Danil they became enmeshed with us. The arrests. Danil stole from them, she stole from my parents. They blamed him and I can’t fault that. He assaulted their child. It doesn’t matter that she was an addict too. He did what he did. My parents blamed her and I suppose that’s true as well.

  “When he died, her parents were absolutely vicious. They started rumors, caused more than one person to disconnect from my parents because they were just trying to get away from the drama.”

  Vic snuggled into the chair with her and she perched in his lap, pulling the blanket over them both.

  “My family had lost Danil forever, but their kid was alive. But not returned to them. She’s still an addict. Still on the streets. It was impossible for my parents to grieve much less heal when the place they should have been able to receive solace from had become yet another situation they had to navigate. So they left that church and started attending the other in town. It turns out it was a good move. My mom has a home there. Friends. She’s active and connected and it’s best for everyone that they made the change.”

  “But they’re back? They can’t just be satisfied with what they’ve got given the comparison with what your parents have?”

  Rachel was indignant on their behalf and he hugged her before continuing. “It has always felt to me like if they truly let it go they’ll have to admit they might never save their daughter before she too ends up dead like Danil. What parent wants to admit that? So they pop up once a year or so and attempt to make trouble.”

  “What can I do?” Rachel asked.

  What had he done in his life to deserve her?

  “She might need a little extra attention over the next week or so. Her friends will circle around her to protect her the best they can. She needs to stay busy,” Vic said as he kissed the top of her head.

  “What about your dad? I know he likes to make her life easier. It’s got to be hard on him. Harder because this must gut your mom and he can’t make it better.”

  Vic was beginning to understand that very thing. He wanted to protect Rachel and her artist’s heart and soul and he couldn’t. Not from everything.

  “He’ll want to run interference. Try to be the wall between her and whatever is happening.”

  His father had been down the darkest hole after Danil’s death. Had felt the sting of failure like his mother had. But he felt he’d failed Irena too. Not just Danil, but his wife, the mother of his children.

  “And you?” She traced the line of his cheek. “What do you need? You’re the big brother. The oldest son who wants to protect his mom and dad from hurt. How can I make it better for you?”

  “You do. Every day.” He hugged her and they stayed that way for a long while afterward.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RACHEL SLID OFF his lap to put some music on. She felt lighter, a combination of not having this conservatorship hanging over her head any longer and having someone else’s troubles to try to soften.

  “Pistol” by alxxa played as she held a hand out his way. He got up, slow and graceful like a big cat.

  “Can I tell you something slightly embarrassing and I’m really hoping you don’t think it’s too weird?” she asked.

  He got close enough to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close as they started to dance.

  “Please do,” he teased after she’d been quiet for so long it was clear she was waiting for an answer.

  “I made you a playlist,” she said, blushing furiously.

  His smile widened. “You did? That’s...well that’s sexy as fuck.”

  Kehlani’s “Do You Dirty” came on and she allowed herself to be pleased he liked it so much.

  “A playlist for a music lover is an intimate gift,” he said as he nuzzled his way from her temple down to the place where her neck met her shoulder. He blew over the skin there and she gulped in air like a drowning woman. “I’m certain no one has made me one in at least a decade.”

  How could she explain how silly and light he made her feel? How stupid in like—it was more, she knew it but she was still dancing around it—she was with him.

  “You put an extra lock on your door and you fixed your window latch. For me. So I’d come over here more often. That’s pretty intimate too.”

  He hummed and then licked her collarbone. How he made such a simple thing so ridiculously hot she didn’t know. But he just...well he just swamped her with so much pleasure she held on and tried to give as good as she got.

  But damn it, she’d started this and he was taking over. Not that it was a bad thing, but she had plans.

  She whipped his shirt off and skated her open mouth over the tendons in his neck as she backed him against the wall, dragging her nails up his sides and over his belly.

  He snarled a curse as he let her lead.

  She licked over his ink, pausing at his piercing. So fucking sexy. The totality of him was overwhelming and all she wanted to do was roll around with him. The beauty of it was that she could.

  “Mine,” she said, nibbling over his ribs.

  “Most definitely yours,” he told her as he grabbed two handfuls of her ass, hauling her close. “And you, my beautiful tiger, are all mine.”

  She let her head tip back on a laugh. “Lucky you.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me on that point. I am very lucky.”

  She was totally sure it was the other way around but it didn’t matter. They were together.

  And she wasn’t going to question it. Not that night.

  She wanted to show him what she thought of him. How she saw his sexiness. How much she wanted him.

  His intake of breath as she dropped to her knees thrilled her. She knew what it felt like to be the one standing.

  Her gaze locked with his, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, carefully pulling them past his cock and then once the metal was at his ankles, she drew his shorts down as well, freeing all the bounty she’d just openly claimed just a few minutes before.

  It was her turn to hum her satisfaction as she rubbed
her cheek against that velvet-soft skin, turning her mouth so she could lick around the head and crown.

  She stayed there for some time, simply licking and kissing him, slowly building him up to climax. Rachel loved the way his skin smelled, the way the heat of his body seemed to stir a new scent, one heady, laced with sex.

  It made her eyelids heavy, her limbs warm.

  Both his hands gripped her skull, his fingers wrapped in her hair. For a moment it was too much. She froze, her muscles locked up. Memory threatening.

  He leaned down, gentling his hold. “Come back to me, tigryonak.”

  “I’m here,” she managed to say as she fought her way off the ledge of her memories. “I’m here,” she repeated.

  He got to his knees to face her. “Tell me what you want. I need you to be right here or we have to stop.”

  “Stop being so fucking perfect,” she said.

  He grinned. “I can’t. I was born this way.”

  Rachel reached out to grab his cock. “I’m here. I’m good to go. I want you, Vic. Right now.”

  He studied her face for long moments. “Not here in the living room. You deserve a bed with soft blankets against your skin.”

  “Sometimes a girl might want a little rug burn on her knees,” she said.

  “Jesus. Now who’s perfect, eh?” he teased as he pushed her back to the rug she’d been kneeling on. He unbuttoned the front of her sweater and popped the catch to free her breasts.

  “The answer hasn’t changed from my perspective,” she wheezed out as he dived in, kissing and licking her neck and chest and then down to her nipples. His weight—weight he was normally very careful not to rest on her fully—kept her pressed in place, the rough weave of the carpet pressing into her back.

  “You asked what I wanted,” she said. “I want you to fuck me. No holding back. I want all of you.”

  The intensity of his expression seared her.

  “If I give you all of me, I demand the same of you. No more holding back. I might be easygoing with most things, Rachel, but I love hard, it turns out. Absolutely. You’re tough. Strong. You’re a survivor. Mine.”