by Sybil Bartel
Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
I nodded and stood. “I’m goin’ to bed. Take care of Blaze.”
I didn’t make it three paces before André stopped me.
“Doc.”
“Unless you’re offerin’ somethin’ better’n tequila, I got nothin’ to say.” I was done talking.
“Sit,” Blaze ordered.
My jaw clenched then throbbed. “I’m your bitch now? I didn’t even get fucked first. You losin’ your touch?”
Ice-cold nothingness stared at me.
I shook my head. “Goddamn, Deer Hunter, you takin’ lessons from Neil?”
“Cállate,” André swore. “Sit your ass down.”
I glanced around the table and smirked. “So a Cuban, a Gunny and a Dane walk into a bar…”
Three pairs of eyes looked at me, all pissed off.
I laughed. “Don’t hold back on my account. By all means, show me your perfectly laid plans, solve my fuckin’ problems.” My grin turned malicious. “Or better yet, get the fuck outta my house and don’t come back.”
“You are selfish,” Neil stated.
I glared at him. “I’m selfish?”
“You always have been,” he said calmly.
Despite Neil saving my life, in that moment I hated him. “You got somethin’ to say about Hawaii, say it.” We’d danced around this shit for two years. “Right fuckin’ now.” I was done having him hold this shit over my head. “I never asked you to fly there and rescue my ass.”
“What did you think I would do?” he asked pointedly.
I lost it. “I was holdin’ my wife’s ashes! Her motherfuckin’ ashes! And you wanna know what the fuck I thought you’d do? How ’bout, I don’t give a fuck! Or better yet, I wasn’t fuckin’ thinkin’ shit except how the fuck do I make the goddamn pain go away,” I yelled, laying out the sad fucking truth of my suicide attempt with a bottle of Percocet after my wife died.
Neil stared at me.
“Goddamn it!” I shoved a chair up against the table.
Neil wordlessly pulled it back and inclined his head at the seat.
Drunk, pathetic, I sat.
“HAWKINS, CARTER, THE WOUNDED GIRL and Maldonado’s successor, am I missing anyone?” Neil asked calmly.
“Nope,” André answered. “Those are the major players.”
I felt Blaze’s eyes burning a hole into me.
“Your wife?” Neil asked Blaze. “Is she safe?”
“Maldonado was the one who put out the hit. He’s dead.”
“André, use your connections. Confirm the hit is dead.” Neil pushed an envelope toward Blaze. “You and your wife leave in one hour. Everything you need is in there.”
Blaze opened the envelope and pulled out a set of keys. “Copenhagen?”
Neil nodded once. “I maintain a residence in Odense, the address is in the envelope. Take a train from the airport. André will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”
Blaze thanked him in Danish then turned to me. “We straight?”
I wasn’t a warrior, not like Blaze or Neil. I wasn’t even cut from the same cloth as them. I was a fucking scrapper. Yeah, I had money now and a half dozen real estate ventures with Neil, a history like brothers with Blaze but I was still the same hotheaded, dirt-poor little shit kicking dust in the Texas summer heat. So no, Blaze and I weren’t straight. We weren’t even on the same fucking playing field.
“All good,” I lied.
He nodded and stood. “Can we get an escort to the airport” he asked André.
“Roger that.” André pulled out his phone and made a call. “Your ride’s in the driveway,” he confirmed when he hung up.
“We’re out.” Blaze beckoned Layna over and spoke quietly to her as he stroked her hair.
A hazy image of my dead wife popped into my head then vanished. Rubbing my hand over my face, I closed my eyes for a brief moment and reached for my crutch. Pain, grief, the future I’d lost, I grasped for my drug of choice and willed the image of my dead wife to flood my head. Drunk, stupid, I wanted her big brown eyes and her sweet smile to fill my mind so I could fall into the familiar pain I’d learned to live with.
But nothing happened.
My eyes popped open and a slow burn of panic started to seep through the cracks.
I knew what she looked like. I knew there was a mole on her right shoulder. I knew the silky feel of her thick black hair. I knew the top of her head had barely reached my pecs. I knew it. But I couldn’t see it. Any of it. For the first time in two years, I couldn’t see Leigh.
Because I was seeing a blonde-haired, blue-eyed siren.
My heart pounding, my muscles screaming for release, my gaze darted around for purchase and landed on them.
Layna put her hand on Blaze’s face and smiled.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I was living a dead fucking fantasy.
Leigh was gone.
I was alive and she was dead. A thousand regrets crashed into me all at once. I failed Leigh. And I was failing Siren. Guilt gripped my chest so tight, sweat broke out across my forehead. My shoulders burned and my legs fought for control. I pushed to my feet and it hit me like a fucking freight train as I watched Blaze kiss Layna.
Leigh and I never had what they have. Leigh loved me but she never trusted me. Not with her life and not with her death. I didn’t fight hard enough for her and she never fought for us.
I was young. We both were. I loved the fuck out of her but seeing Blaze and Layna, I suddenly realized there was no comparison. I hadn’t loved selflessly. I should have been holding Leigh when she died. And she should have given me that chance.
“Talon?”
My head snapped up.
Concern drew across Layna’s face. “You okay?”
“Never better,” my voice rasped.
She glanced up at Blaze but he was busy staring at me like he knew I was losing my shit.
“I know we have to go, but…” She placed her hand on Blaze’s arm.
“Go.” I nodded toward the door. “Before someone else decides to take a shot at you.”
Blaze scowled and Layna took two steps and threw her arms around my neck.
I froze but then I wrapped my arms around her because she looked like my Leigh and because I was sinking faster than I knew how to swim. Emotions I wasn’t used to became a shit storm and I opened my stupid mouth. “I’m sorry, for everythin’.” For every stupid mistake I’d ever made, with her, with Leigh, with Siren.
Layna pulled back and looked at me with determination. “This is not your fault. If anyone should be—”
“Enjoy your second honeymoon.” I cut her off, pushing her toward Blaze. I didn’t want her absolution.
Blaze pulled her back to his chest and put a possessive arm around her.
André stood. “I’ll walk you two out. I need to talk to my men.”
They disappeared downstairs and I sunk into a chair.
Neil didn’t waste any time. “I neither begrudge nor hold anything over you for Hawaii. I would not presume to know what it is like to lose a spouse.”
Jesus fuck, now we were going to do this? “Fuck you.”
“Your actions regarding Maldonado were selfish. Your friendship with Blaze’s wife is selfish. Your string of women for the past two years has been self-indulgent. Hawaii was grief, but everything since has been self-pity. This is what I meant by selfish.”
I wasn’t sorry Maldonado was dead and I didn’t give a fuck what Neil thought about me. My life, my business, but I’d concede that the Maldonado situation probably could’ve been handled differently given time, except we didn’t have time. Neil was right, he didn’t know what it was like to lose a wife. I wasn’t going to let that happen to Blaze, not if I could stop it.
I leaned back in my chair, resolved to let this play out. “Kick a man when he’s down, why don’t you,” I said sarcastically, pissed that he’d called me selfish.
“Do you
know what defines a man?”
“No, and I don’t give a fuck.”
Expression blank, Neil stared at me.
I knew that look. He’d wait me out all night. I threw a hand up and gave him the floor. “Lay it on me. Let’s hear another one of Neil’s life philosophies.”
“A man is not defined by his circumstances but by his reactions.”
“Thank you, Socrates.”
“I cannot teach anybody anything, I can only make them think.”
Fucker actually quoted Socrates the second time. “Your point?”
“Take care of this.”
“On it,” I lied as I sat on my ass talking to him instead of doing something to get Siren out from under Carter.
“Twenty-four hours, then I have a life to get back to.”
“Yeah, what life is that?” The secretive fuck. “Constructin’ strip malls?” God knew we owned enough of them. Including the one my shop was in.
“Constructing and malls? No. Stripper? Yes.”
I stared at him a moment, my brain still clouded by alcohol. “You’re datin’ a stripper?” Neil was all about the Russian models.
He didn’t move, he didn’t even blink.
Then it sunk in. “Oh, shit.” No fucking way. “Ariel? André’s Ariel?” When she wasn’t working for André, Ariel was a stripper.
Neil stared at me.
“You go for six-foot models with dispositions that make your surly ass look like a pig in shit. How the fuck did this happen?”
With a gesture I’d never seen him make, his eyes set on mine, the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I want to fuck her.”
I burst out laughing. “Goddamn, you are human.”
“Only my dick.”
I laughed harder. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Yes.” All trace of his earlier lapse of impenetrable expression disappeared. “Finish this thing with the MC and get the girl out.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and sobered. “She doesn’t want my help.”
“When has that stopped you?”
“This isn’t a fuckin’ Hajji sand trap battleground. I can’t go in, guns blazin’. Some battles ain’t mine to fight.”
“You want her?”
My gut clenched and I forced myself not to think about it. “Don’t matter one way or another.”
“Get the girl out,” he repeated.
André bounded up the stairs. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing.” Neil leaned back.
Still pissed he’d said I was selfish, I threw him under the bus. “Neil’s fuckin’ Ariel.” Going to fuck, fucking, fucked, didn’t matter, the intent was there.
His hand on the back of a chair, about to pull it out, André paused. It was only for half a second but it was long enough for me to see it. He didn’t say shit, he just sat down.
I looked between Neil and André. “What’s a matter, Patrol, cat got your tongue on this one?”
André frowned and Neil crossed his arms.
I egged André on. “If you wanted her, why didn’t you nail that shit down before Viking did?”
“Shut the fuck up, Talerco.”
“Hell no. Y’all been talkin’ shit ’bout my sex life for years. The first sign of trouble that ain’t mine and you expect me not to roll in it? Not happenin’.” I nodded at Neil. “Did you know Patrol was pining away for that shit before you fucked her? ’Cause damn, that’s cold-blooded, even for you.”
“I’m not fucking pining for her!” André yelled.
Right. “Then whatdaya call what you’re doin’ now? Scratchin’ your head, wonderin’ why it ain’t your dick?”
“Drop it,” Neil finally spoke. “Not your concern.”
Neil didn’t give a damn about relationships with women, especially with the Russian models he fucked. He took what he wanted and moved on and he cared even less what people thought of him. “Patrol’s pissed and that’s your answer?”
Neil glared at me and André looked away.
“If y’all are gonna have my back with Maldonado’s crew and the Lone Coasters, then I don’t want this shit interferin’.”
“There is no interference,” Neil said formally. “André would prefer I did not date her. He needs to get over it.”
“You’re not dating her, you’re using her,” André snapped.
Fucking, using, I couldn’t disagree. Neil wasn’t going to be any chick’s happily ever after.
“I justify my actions to no one.”
André slammed his hand on the table. “She has a kid!”
Neil didn’t even flinch. “So do I.”
“Myles isn’t your kid, he’s your fucking nephew and he’s an adult!”
Neil tilted his head. “You think I do not know what it takes to raise a child?”
The hair on the back of my neck rose to attention. “Shit, Patrol,” I muttered. “Insult him again and you’re on your own.”
André didn’t listen. He lowered his voice to a deadly threat, his nostrils flared and he leaned toward Neil. “You tie women down and beat them.”
Every muscle went still in surprise. I stared at Neil. I shouldn’t have been shocked. Neil was a controlling motherfucker, but still, I never guessed kink. Then little bits of information started clicking into place. I saw him once at a club with a chick standing just behind him and to his side, not touching him, but wearing a necklace that looked like a collar. He was tight-lipped about any aspect of his life outside of business, and the diagonal knife wound across his chest he’d gotten a few months ago that I’d had to stitch up, he refused to talk about. I thought of Siren and suddenly I was right there with André. “This shit fuckin’ consensual?”
Neil swung his steel glare to me. “Do I question you? Ever?”
I exhaled and looked at André. As much as I hated to take sides, Neil had a point. “Whatever he’s into, it’s mutual and it ain’t our business.” Neil was a scary motherfucker and he’d just called me a selfish prick but deep down, I knew he wasn’t a sick fuck who’d force himself on a woman. He didn’t need to. Besides, who the fuck was I to judge what the hell he did in the sack?
“You hurt her,” André seethed, “and I will kill you.”
Neil stared at André for a beat then his expression went blank. “Noted.”
I pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m out. You two fuckers can fight over who sleeps where.” Buying a two-bedroom house was the best fucking decision I’d ever made.
“I’m not staying.” Neil stood.
Too tired to give a shit where he went, I walked to my bedroom, stripped and fell into bed. I groaned at the smell of jasmine then cursed myself for acting like a fucking pussy. Resigned, I reached for the light and my cell phone vibrated.
I STARED AT THE DISPLAY for two seconds, wondering if she was fucking with me. Unable to stand the suspense, I answered. “Siren,” I said dryly.
Silence.
I looked at the phone to make sure the call had connected. “You there?”
“Yes, sorry.” I could hear some sort of shifting movement.
I sat up. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you…got home okay.”
I didn’t know what I expected her to say but it wasn’t that. “You worried?” I didn’t ask the question nicely.
“No.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “What do you want, Nic?”
“I think Stone is planning something.”
Every muscle went rigid. “You stay the fuck out of it.”
She ignored me. “Randy and a bunch of the guys are here, they’re talking about something big and they all looked worried.”
“First of all, you get caught spyin’ on them, it’s gonna be bad news for you and second, I don’t need an informant. So if that was the purpose of this call, hang up.” Jesus fuck, if Carter caught her on the phone right now, he’d fucking lose it.
More silence.
Damn it. “Okay.” I shove
d my hand through my hair and tempered my tone. “You called for a reason and since you haven’t hung up, I’m assumin’ you still got somethin’ to say. I’m not a mind reader, so why don’t you lay it out?”
No response.
“You’re the one who told me to take a hike, darlin’,” I reminded her. “I’m doin’ you a solid by answerin’ the phone when I’m tired as fuck, so speak up or hang up, because my patience is about to hit a wall.”
“It was the right thing to do, telling you to leave.” Her voice turned quiet. “But I didn’t want to.”
Desperate to hear those words from her, my heart warred with the image of Randy putting his arm around her. “I suppose you didn’t want to tuck under Carter’s arm either?”
Pause. Then she cleared her throat. “Thank you for the dinner you made me,” she said formally. “Good-bye Ta—”
I shot up out of bed. “You hang up on me now, I’m comin’ over there.”
“This was a mistake.”
“No.” I was done with this bullshit. “You don’t get to play that hand. You and I both know this mornin’ wasn’t a mistake. Me coming after you wasn’t a mistake. You callin’ wasn’t a mistake and us? We’re not a fuckin’ mistake. I’m done playin’ these word games with you. The only mistake is the fact that you’re there and not here.”
“I’m scared,” she barely whispered.
Fuck. I shoved a leg into my jeans. “I’m comin’ right now for you. Where are you?”
“No!” Panic laced her voice. “He’s here, Stone is here, or was here, and there’re LCs all over the complex. You can’t, they’ll see you.”
Alarm spread hearing that Stone was actually there, in the same apartment with her. “What room are you in?” I kicked the jeans off and went for a pair of black cargo pants.
“Talon, please. I can’t… I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Is that why you pushed me away tonight? Why you didn’t come with me?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Answer me,” I demanded.
“Yes.”
Stupidly ignoring her hesitation, I let relief wash through me for a split second before the anxiety came back that she was within spitting distance of Stone. “Nothin’s gonna happen to me. Or you.” I’d fucking make sure of it. I pulled a black T-shirt over my head.