Cary

by Jessica Gadziala

  “Alright. Keep in touch. Let Brooks know what you’ve got going on.”

  “I will,” I agreed, nodding. “Than—“

  “You fucking asshole,” Hope’s voice roared as the door flew open.

  “Oh, shit. Here we go,” Fallon mumbled under his breath as he dropped down into his chair like his legs couldn’t hold him up through any more problems.

  “No, I mean, really, are you an idiot?” she asked, waving out a hand.

  “Nice to see you too, Hope. How’s the family?”

  “You’re goddamn right it isn’t going to be nice to see me right now. Just like it wasn’t nice to see you last night. When you fucking blew a three-week-long stakeout I’d had going on that was finally going to get me the evidence I needed for my client.”

  Fallon exhaled a deep breath, his gaze slipping to me. “Why don’t you head out, man? This is my flaying, but she’s pissed enough to start peeling off your skin just for being here.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice.

  I got myself out of there.

  I liked Hope.

  She was a hardass with a tough shell to crack, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and family member with a heart of a romantic underneath it all. Though she’d go to her grave denying that.

  But despite how much I liked the woman, I didn’t want to be anywhere near the kind of fury that was going to come out of her when someone got in the way of her job.

  Did she maybe take her work too seriously? Especially considering how terribly they treated her, no matter how often she proved herself? Yes. But it was important to her. So it didn’t matter what any of the rest of us thought about it. It mattered. And Fallon had—inadvertently, I was sure—fucked it up for her.

  If the man could walk right after she was done, I would be shocked.

  Besides, I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to waste.

  See, I didn’t have my own place.

  A lot of the brothers eventually did so. Usually when they found a woman, or were thinking of starting a family.

  That was never going to be the path for me, though, so I’d seen no reason to get a house or apartment of my own. I had my own space at the clubhouse. And since they were, essentially, my family, there was no reason to move out.

  But if Fallon wanted Abigail out of the clubhouse—and I understood his reason—then I needed to get my ass in gear and find a place as quickly as possible.

  Even if I was just going to rent a place, it was going to take at the very least a couple days for paperwork and shit to get drawn up. So I’d have to get her in a hotel until then. Which wasn’t ideal, but was relatively safe.

  It wasn’t like a cartel was going to come shooting in a hotel on foreign soil.

  But, in my head, hotels had a certain connotation to them, even if I made sure I got two separate beds. I didn’t want to make the situation more uncomfortable for her.

  Though, I had to admit that a part of me was happier than I had any right to be about the idea of being stuck in a hotel with Abigail.

  It was wrong in every way, and I knew there was no way I could make any sort of move on her. But I couldn’t seem to help the thought either.

  “Hey, you,” Jazzy called as I finally made my way up to the counter at She’s Bean Around.

  I didn’t actually want any more coffee.

  But the fact of the matter was, if you needed to know something about anything in Navesink Bank, you took your ass down to the coffee shop. Because Jazzy and Gala were the gatekeepers of the inside track of all things Navesink Bank. I was sure that was partly from just overhearing people talking all day long, but it was also because they were talkers themselves, always getting information out of people. Add on the fact that Jazzy was settled down with a detective on the NBPD, and there was almost nothing that went down in the town without the She’s Bean Around chicks knowing about it.

  “Heya, Jazz.”

  “Did your old friend find you?”

  “She did,” I agreed. “Thanks for pointing her in my direction.”

  “I wouldn’t normally point anyone toward your organization without asking you guys first. But that woman had a kicked puppy look to her. I didn’t think you would mind this one time.”

  “Not at all. Actually, she’s why I’m here.”

  “Ah,” she said, giving me a slow nod that said she suddenly understood things were heading toward somewhere important. “Come over here,” she invited, walking behind the counter toward the corner, and waiting for me to follow, getting us away from the crush of the crowd that was always present at She’s Bean Around. “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

  “She is. And it’s really important that you don’t tell anyone that you’ve seen her.”

  “Honey, this is Navesink Bank. We protect our women here. You see that look once and you can recognize it forever,” Jazzy went on. “I wouldn’t tell anyone that she was here.”

  “Not even Lloyd?” I asked, meaning her guy.

  “Listen, my man and I have an understanding about this kind of thing. He doesn’t care who I talk to and get friendly with in this town so long as I’m not doing anything illegal myself. Are you asking me to do anything illegal?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’re good. I won’t say anything.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Well, I need someplace to put her,” I said.

  “And that place maybe needs to be unexpected and relatively safe without a bunch of people seeing the comings and goings?”

  “You’ve got it,” I agreed.

  Jazzy pursed her lips as she tapped a nail on the counter. “Okay, I might know something. I mean, I can’t get you someplace private like out in the woods somewhere. But I can get you somewhere off the books in town. Up high, so you can see anyone coming and going.”

  “Sounds like it would work.”

  “You know Vic, the old guy who used to run the print shop in town?” I didn’t, but it didn’t matter. “Well, Vic passed. And his son doesn’t know shit about the printing business. So he had to shutter the store while he figured it all out. He needs the cash. And the place above the store is an apartment. Vic used to live there, but I saw the moving and charity trucks there the other day, cleaning it out. That could work, right?”

  “That would be perfect actually.”

  “Good. Then head your fine silver fox ass over there and set it up before someone else snatches it off his hands.”

  “Jazz, you’re a lifesaver, hon.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said with a big smile as she gave me a little wave before moving off.

  I’d never really been attached to a town before. I’d moved around a lot as a kid and then a young adult. You kind of just saw each town as the same as the last.

  There was just something about Navesink Bank, though. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And it wasn’t just because I’d stuck around it for a while. I’d lived in other towns for much longer than I’d been in Navesink Bank.

  Maybe it had to do with the, well, thriving less than legal empires all cooped up in one space. It created a sense of community you didn’t often find in places anymore.

  From there, you sprinkled in a few familiar mom-and-pop establishments like She’s Bean Around, Chaz’s, and Famiglia—the kinds of places where the owners and workers got to know your name and story—and it brought everything in even more tightly. In a comfortable way. Like an old favorite sweater.

  If I lived out the rest of my life in Navesink Bank, I would be a happy man.

  The old print shop was on a side street along with a salon and a pet store. It was a simple brick building with the typical picture window that was currently boarded up by wood and then doubly protected by the metal security door pulled down.

  There was a sign duct-taped to the wood board that said the space was for rent, with a number to call.

  From there, it was all pretty simple.

  The guy who owned it said he was still cleaning it out, but that it would be ready
in four or five days. So I dropped by his place, set down a deposit, then made my way toward one of the nicer hotels in the area, the one overlooking the Navesink River.

  I don’t know. I guess I just figured that the woman could use some luxury that didn’t come with pain and abuse as well.

  Once that was all handled, I made my way back to the clubhouse, stomach tied a bit in knots. Because I’d made all those plans without once consulting Abigail about any of it.

  She’d had someone controlling every aspect of her life for so long. She didn’t need another man doing it for her. But, I reasoned with myself, this situation was different.

  I had to get her safe.

  And I also had my orders from Fallon.

  If she wanted to change some of the plans once I got her out of the clubhouse, that was fine. We could figure it out together.

  “You got something to fill me in on?” Brooks asked when I got back into the lot and climbed off my bike.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because Dezi has been chatting up that girl who claims she knows you for the past hour.”

  Jealousy and possessiveness assaulted my system all at once.

  Why?

  Because Dezi was talking to her? I mean, this was Dezi we were talking about. He talked to every woman. Literally every fucking woman. He didn’t have to be attracted to them. He struck up conversations with the old ladies at the grocery store just as much as he did with the pretty college girls at the bars.

  It was all just part of what made Dezi… Dezi.

  Still, though, there was no denying the swirling discomfort in my stomach, the tightness in my chest.

  Over a woman I had no claim over.

  She was a part of my past.

  Though, admittedly, she was clearly a part of my present as well.

  And as I filled in Brooks on what was going on, I had to admit to myself that there was some part of me that thought a future with the woman who’d saved me when I couldn’t save myself didn’t sound too shabby…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Abigail

  “So, what are your feelings on mini-cows?” the guy who’d introduced himself to me as Dezi said as he dropped down in a chair across from where I was sitting on the couch.

  From the looks of his outfit, he’d just gotten back from the gym like Cary had. But that didn’t stop this man from cracking open the pastry box on his lap and plowing right into a jelly donut.

  “I, ah, I’m sorry?” I asked, confused.

  “Mini-cows. Yay high,” he said, gesturing to the side of the chair. “Spotted. Big eyes. You like them?”

  “I’ve, um, I’ve never really thought about it,” I admitted. My world hadn’t exactly involved cute farm animals.

  “What about babydoll sheep?”

  “I don’t think I even know what that is,” I admitted.

  “Hm. Alright. Just working on a theory,” he said, shrugging. “Donut?” he asked, holding the box out to me. “Come on, you know you wanna.”

  “I just ate,” I said, even as my mouth salivated at the idea of something so sweet.

  “What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?” he asked, making a strange laugh bubble up and burst out of me.

  “What?”

  “I dunno. Something some older lady said to me once. Stuck with me. I just eat all the time. Still manage to eat a donut or six after.”

  So then he gave me a donut. And I pretended to eat it demurely. But Dezi must have been onto me, because he barely paused after I finished before handing me another one. And then another.

  My stomach screamed at the too-full feeling after so many years of surviving on the bare minimum. And all the sugar had me feeling like I was buzzing.

  But, God, alive. I felt alive for the first time in far too long.

  “I’m going to get some more coffee,” I told him, even though I didn’t need any more sugar or caffeine in my system right then. But it was too novel to be able to get my own food and drinks to turn down the opportunity to do so. “Can I get you some?” I asked.

  “That sounds good. Wash down all this sugar with more sugar,” he added, giving me a wink.

  This Dezi guy was, arguably, really attractive. But in a way that I guess had never been my type. He was a rough and dirty sort of handsome with his long hair, his tattoos, his scruff that looked more careless than cultivated, and his abundance of scars.

  Still, though, I felt absolutely nothing at that little wink of his, or the warm look in his eyes.

  Nothing like the gut-kick sensation I’d felt when I’d finally seen Cary in person.

  No.

  I couldn’t let my mind go there.

  There was how all my problems in my life started.

  Besides, he wanted to help me. I couldn’t let my complicated feelings get in the way of the original plan.

  To get away.

  To get safe.

  To, eventually, be able to start my life over again. This time, on my own terms.

  I didn’t even know what that would look like. I’d never really had any say in how my life turned out.

  There were a few things I knew. Like I would need a job. What kind, I had no idea. I had no work history. I had no skills. But I would find something somewhere.

  Then I would need to figure out how to get my own place.

  That idea was both scary and thrilling. A whole place, all my own. To decorate how I wanted. To exist within in any way that made me happy.

  I knew I was getting away with myself, but in my head, I was picturing paint swatches and what sorts of furniture I would want.

  Not Kian’s style. Which I guess I could call “football fanatic.” Everything was overstuffed recliners in dark brown shades, giant TVs, sound systems, and not a single piece of art on the walls.

  And it went without saying that Raúl’s style was out too. At least he’d actually had some. I would give him that. His house had been stunningly beautiful, but in a cold, stark way. It was massive, so it seemed almost under furnished. But all the accents were black and gold. He’d even had a giant gold leopard statue in the living room. There was art on the walls, but black, gray, and gold abstracts that didn’t really interest me.

  The one thing both places had in common was the complete and utter lack of anything even remotely feminine. You would never know a woman lived there if you stepped inside either of their houses.

  I wanted my future place to reflect me for once in my life.

  Outside of work and a home, I had no real vision for the rest of my life. Biological children weren’t an option. And I wasn’t sure I could ever trust my taste in men again.

  But some friends would be nice. A sort of chosen family. People to spend holidays and birthdays with.

  Yeah, that sounded nice.

  I was just finishing mixing the mugs of coffee when I heard male voices in the living room.

  I knew I shouldn’t have, but it seemed like eavesdropping was how I was wired now. You could call it a survival tactic. It was always better to know what the men around me were saying when they didn’t know I was listening.

  I moved closer to the doorway, but kept my body away from the opening, leaning as close as I dared, and making out both of the voices.

  Dezi.

  And Cary.

  “Your lady friend looks like a strong wind would blow her over,” Dezi said, as though Cary hadn’t seen me himself.

  “I know,” Cary said, voice concerned.

  “I fed her donuts,” Dezi volunteered.

  “Good.”

  “She has no opinions on mini-cows.”

  “Ah, good to know,” Cary said, sounding as confused as I had been about the topic.

  “What you rushing off to do?”

  “Pack,” Cary said, making me stiffen.

  Did he get in trouble with his president? Was he being kicked out because of me?

  No.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Are you in trouble because of
me?” I burst out as I rushed into the living room, watching as both men turned to face me.

  “What? No, Abs, no,” Cary said, shaking his head.

  “You said you have to pack,” I reminded him as Dezi took his coffee from my hand.

  “Yeah, but not everything I own, love,” he said, shaking his head. “A bag or two. Fallon was fine with me helping you, but asked that I not keep you in the clubhouse.”

  “Oh, okay. Where are you putting me then?”

  “For a couple of days, it is going to have to be a hotel. After that, I will have a more permanent place set up. Is that alright? If you’re not comfortable with that situation, I could maybe ask one of the princesses if you can crash in their spare rooms. Or maybe I can ask Chris and Lo if you could stay at Hailstorm for a bit.”

  “Hailstorm,” I repeated.

  “Long story,” Cary said, shrugging. “But suffice to say it is a safe place.”

  “I’m, ah, I’m okay with the hotel,” I decided. I didn’t really like the idea of being around a bunch of strangers.

  “Good. Because it’s all set up,” Cary said, shooting me a sweet smile. “So I just have to throw some things together.”

  “Can I come?” Dezi asked, making a big smile tug at my lips because it sounded a lot like a little kid wanting to join the adults on a night out.

  “Both beds will be occupied,” Cary said.

  “There’s usually a cot. Or the floor. Wouldn’t be the first time I slept on a floor.”

  “I think I can keep Abigail safe enough in a hotel. But I might need to use you if Fallon needs me here. If that’s okay with you,” he added, looking over at me.

  “We bonded over donuts. We’re practically family now,” Dezi insisted, getting another smile out of me.

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” I agreed.

  “See? Told you. I’m gonna go take my coffee and crash.”

  With that, and nothing else, he was gone down the hallway.

  “He reminds me of a puppy. Like a big, silly one. A Golden Retriever or something.”

  To that, Cary let out a strange laugh.

  “What?”

  “He can be like a puppy, yeah,” Cary told me, holding an arm out to lead me back toward his bedroom. “But he’s one of the most vicious, violent sons of bitches I’ve ever met. Which, as you can imagine, is saying something. I was locked up with a lot of animals. But I would put my money on Dezi over all of them.”