Takedown Teague
Page 8
“Shut your mouth, Keith Harrison!” she shrieked. “Don’t you dare bring my father into this!”
“Truth hurts, huh?”
“That’s it,” I said. I tried to keep my voice even, but it wasn’t easy. “I’m sorry, Tria, but I’m not going to stand here and have you listen to any more of this shit.”
“Then why don’t you walk out the door and go away?” Keith crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“You are the one who needs to get out,” I said. Before he could start arguing with me about it anymore, Tria said the only words I really needed to hear.
“He’s right, Keith—you need to go.”
“I am not leaving you here with—”
With the words she had already spoken, I didn’t need any more encouragement. I couldn’t take any more of Keith’s bullshit. I took three large strides forward until I was right in his face. I could feel Tria grabbing my arm, but I was beyond stopping at that point.
“Say it, motherfucker,” I threatened. “Say you are going to stay when she said go, because I will happily rip your dick off and choke you with it.”
Half a second later, Tria squirmed her way in between us and raised her arms up to press against my pectorals. The touch of skin-on-skin, the scent of her hair just under my nose, and the closeness of her body coupled with the heat of the argument just about gave me wood.
“Liam,” she said softly. “Please, Liam. Don’t.”
“If he leaves,” I replied. I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes focused right on his. If I looked at her I might decide to let him live, and I really didn’t want to do that.
“Go, Keith,” Tria ordered. “We’re done talking anyway.”
“This isn’t over,” he said. He looked away from me and down at Tria before he backed away. He reached over to her couch and picked up a black jacket before heading toward the door. “And I’m only leaving because she asked me to, asshole. Don’t think this is over. It isn’t over.”
“I hope it isn’t,” I said, but I was only partially paying attention to him. Once he was away, my gaze had fallen to Tria’s face, and I couldn’t seem to look away. “The next time, she isn’t going to stop me.”
I watched him leave out of the corner of my eye, feeling very self-satisfied as the door slammed shut. Tria startled at the noise, and her fingers tensed against my shoulders. She was right up against me, clad in blue jeans and a thin, green tank top. Her bare forearms connected completely with the skin of my chest. I checked over my left shoulder—just to be sure he was really gone—and sighed. Before I had a chance to go into smug-mode, I glanced down at Tria as she suddenly burst into tears.
The hands that had been pressed lightly against my shoulders moved upwards until they were wrapped around my neck, and Tria’s face was tucked against my sternum as she sobbed. For a moment, I just stood there with my hands clenching and unclenching. It occurred to me that I could probably touch her now, but I didn’t know where.
Without any other ideas, I tentatively brought my hands up to rest on her hips.
Damn, that felt good.
My fingers twitched right at the place where her shirt met the top of her jeans, which was riding up slightly since her arms were up around my neck. I could feel just a little bit of skin against the tip of my left ring finger, and I knew just how easy it would be to slide my hands right up her shirt from there.
I didn’t.
Actually, I had no freaking clue what I should be doing. I was having a really difficult time not sporting a massive boner from the feeling of her body pressed against mine even though I knew how ridiculously rude that would be under the circumstances. At the same time, I just wanted her to feel better. I was a little afraid I might have added to her breakdown and didn’t know what I should do about it.
For a moment, I wondered how she would react if I just picked her up and kissed her. I knew how totally inappropriate it would have been on about four hundred different levels, but that didn’t stop my mind from playing out its little fantasy. I would bring my hand up, run it over her cheek, and stroke underneath her eye before I wrapped my fingers around the back of her neck. Then I’d lean over her, take her bottom lip and suck on it before claiming her mouth entirely.
A shudder from Tria brought me back to reality, and I tried to think of something I could say. I should probably say it’s all right or maybe tell her to stop crying or something like that. Nothing that came to mind really sounded right, so I ended up saying nothing. In a lame attempt at being some kind of comforting presence, I moved my hand to the small of her back and gently patted her a couple of times, wondering if I should say “there, there” now.
Tria suddenly gasped and unclasped her hands from around my neck. They dropped over my shoulders and back to my chest, and she stared blankly at the back of her hands for a moment. Her fingers twitched, and she looked up at me quickly before opening her mouth.
“Shit, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” She kept repeating the phrase as she wiped moisture from my chest.
“Shut up,” I said softly. My hand moved back to her hip, but I didn’t release her. I didn’t want to. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“I got you all wet.”
“I was all wet before,” I told her. “Well, sweaty anyway. I’ve been running.”
“Mascara,” she muttered as she rubbed the side of her thumb over a tiny black smudge right next to my nipple.
She took a step away from me, and my hands dropped from her sides. The loss of contact was unsettling, and as my hands left her, it kind of felt like I was being peeled away from her—just like peeling a fucking banana from its skin.
That thought made me think of my own banana, and I wondered if he might also be considered a comforting presence. Maybe tucked between her thighs for an hour or so would be beneficial to her mood.
Shit, I had to stop thinking like that.
“You gonna tell me what all that was about?” I asked her.
“No,” she replied.
A little battle broke out inside of my head. There was a part of me that said this was private and I should mind my own business, but most of me just wanted to know if I should go after that asshole and beat him down. I didn’t need much of an excuse to do so.
“You know, if you don’t tell me,” I said, “I’m going to come up with the worst possible scenario. If that happens, you won’t be able to stop me from running after him and beating the shit out of him.”
“No, don’t,” Tria said. She shook her head slowly. “We were just talking.”
“Talking? That’s some talk.”
“Keith and I don’t quite see eye to eye on the whole going to college thing,” Tria explained. “He thought I would be just fine going to the community college near home, but I was accepted here, and I wanted the best possible education. He didn’t want me to leave.”
“This is the boyfriend you don’t have, isn’t it?”
She looked at me and then away again. Her hand swept under her eyes once more.
“We broke up right before I left.”
I paused for a minute, trying to figure out if she left him or he left her. Considering he came all the way out here from Maine led me to believe she ditched him, which made me feel better.
“Okay.” I was certainly curious, but I also knew anything she said was going to make me want to run after him. I’d calmed down a bit, so I was all right with not knowing right now. “You sure you don’t want me to kick his ass?”
“Yes,” Tria said, cracking a little smile. “Besides, I have to get ready for work soon. I don’t have the time or the money to bail you out of jail.”
“I wouldn’t get arrested,” I assured her. “I’m not stupid.”
Tria looked at me with narrowed eyes but didn’t press for more information.
“You want me to stick around until it’s time for us to go?” I asked. “I need to run up for a shower…”
…for more than one reason…
“…but I could be back down here in fifteen minutes. If he came back or something…”
“No,” Tria answered immediately. “He won’t come back. Not today, anyway. I’ll be fine, and we’ll have to head off before too long anyway. I’ll tell you more on our walk.”
That would have to suffice.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine, really.”
“I’ll be back in an hour to walk you to work.”
“Okay,” she said. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a big sigh. “Thank you. Again.”
“My pleasure,” I said with a smile. “Anytime you want me to beat the shit out of someone, you just say the word.”
“That’s what big brothers are for, right?”
“Exactly!” I answered her with a grin. My face held a smile, but inside me, that word—brother—made my guts twist up. Why the fuck had I ever said that in the first place?
I practically ran upstairs to jump in the shower. Before the water had even soaked through my skin, I had my dick in my hand. It didn’t take more than a minute before I was grunting and spurting against the tiles.
I breathed heavily with one hand still against the cold wall. The shower and the jerk-off did nothing to sate my need to kick someone’s ass or fuck my downstairs neighbor, and I wished I didn’t have to wait for the opportunity to do either. I thought about finding Keith while Tria was working, but I had the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate it. I had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t care for her “big brother” coming on to her, either.
At least I could pound that asshole without her ever finding out. I could hang around outside tonight. If I happened to see him, and we happened to have a little confrontation… Well, that would just be a coincidence, wouldn’t it?
I soaped myself down, rinsed off, and stepped out onto the threadbare hand towel that served as a bathmat. I dripped for a bit while I stared at my face in the mirror and ran my hand over my jaw. I needed a shave, so I pulled out a razor and shaving cream and stared at myself in the mirror some more while I worked on the stubble.
Brother. Why, why, why did I ever say that?
I had just been trying to make her more comfortable, which seemed to have the desired effect, but it had definitely become a hindrance as well. The word “brother” loomed over me when I stood next to her, wondering if I should maybe reach out and put my arm around her shoulders as we were walking or something.
Or better yet, reach down a little farther and grab her ass.
I sighed at myself, washed the leftover shaving cream off my face, and got dressed. I slipped my boots on and grabbed a fresh pack of smokes before running out the door. I didn’t want my “sister” to have to wait around for me.
*****
“So, tell me who this asshole is that I want to kill now.” I made the suggestion as we headed out the apartment door and down the street.
“Please don’t talk like that.” Tria sighed. “Keith just worries. It’s not like he was going to get violent with me.”
“He’s a douche,” I said bluntly. Honestly, the idea he might have gotten physical with her never crossed my mind before she mentioned it. Why did she say that? Had he done that in the past? If I found out that he had, there would be no stopping me. I was ready to fuck him up just for yelling at her.
“He shouldn’t have been talking to you like that,” I said. “How did you hook up with him, anyway?”
“That’s kind of a long story,” she said.
“Start it now,” I said, “and finish it on the way home later.”
Tria’s shoulder rose and fell with a long breath.
“Fine,” she said. “But it’s not exciting or anything. It just boring, small-town crap.”
“I like small-town crap,” I said. Tria looked at me with narrowed eyes, and I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t really know what I meant by it, either. I liked her, and she was from a small town.
She wasn’t crap, though.
I shook my head, trying to drive such contradictory and confusing thoughts away. I wondered if people who lived in small towns had always lived there or if there was something about city life that made them seek refuge somewhere else.
“So, did your parents always live in a small town, or did they move there from a city or something?” I asked her.
“My parents were from the mainland,” she said softly. “My foster family lives on the island.”
“So what do they think of you being here in the big city on your own?”
“Well…” Tria hesitated. “My dad passed away when I was young.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Sorry. I know you told me that before. What happened to him?”
“He worked on a fishing boat. On his way home one night, he stopped on the bridge to help a guy with a flat tire. It was dark, and they were too close to the road. My dad was hit by another car and killed. My parents were already divorced then. Dad had been in the army and was deployed for about two years. Mom screwed around on him, I guess, and they divorced shortly after he came home. My mom never really wanted much to do with me. She was living in Florida at the time with a new husband, and I didn’t want to leave my hometown. I ended up being raised by friends of the family.”
“Those are some friends,” I said with a whistle. “Taking in a kid that isn’t theirs.”
“We were always close,” Tria said quietly. Something about her tone seemed off.
“Well, what did the family friends think of you coming here?”
“Uh…well, Leo—he is like my adopted dad, I guess—was really excited and happy about me going to college, actually. No one in his family had ever gone to college, and he pretty much treated me like his own flesh and blood. That is, until I decided to come here.”
“He didn’t want you to leave?”
“No one really thought it was anything more than a waste of time,” she said. “They are all for the education because that’s something you can bring back to the community and teach everyone else, but to move away? That’s pretty much unheard of. They’re very intent on keeping everyone together.”
“You aren’t really part of the family though, right?” I really had no idea how such things worked.
“Not by blood, obviously,” Tria said. “But they considered me one of them.”
I thought about that for a minute and wondered if they really treated her the same way or not. How would she know?
“You have any brothers or sisters?”
“Well, not biological ones, no,” she said. When she didn’t elaborate, I hounded her until she did. “Leo has three kids—two girls and a boy. I grew up with all of them.”
“What about their mom?” I asked.
“She died in a car accident the year before my dad.”
“Wow—already raising three kids on his own and takes in another one right after his wife dies? This Leo must be some kind of saint.”
“Not…exactly,” Tria mumbled, but she refused to elaborate.
“So tell me about the adopted siblings,” I suggested. “Were you all close to the same age?”
“Helen and Heather are both older than me. Helen’s twenty-four and Heather is twenty-two,” Tria said.
“And your brother?” I lit up a smoke and watched her out of the corner of my eye as she started digging around in the Grand Canyon of women’s accessories. She didn’t answer but mumbled something about where she might have left her lip gloss.
As she dug into the bag, she wasn’t watching where she was going. She ended up tripping on the curb and nearly falling on her face. I wanted to be the one to save her, to right her before she could fall. If I were being honest, I just wanted to touch her just for a moment. Unfortunately, she managed to right herself before I could grab her and help her up.
&n
bsp; “That purse is going to end up killing you,” I told her. “Either you’re going to fall into it and never be seen again, or you’re going to fall off a cliff while looking for something in it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
She always said that whenever I made a comment about Grand Central Handbag.
“I bet I could put a mouse in there and you would never find it.”
“I most certainly would.”
“You wouldn’t notice it until you found nibble marks in your lipstick.”
Tria groaned at my joke and pulled the bag up a little against her side as we rounded the last turn before Fin’s.
“I’ll see you about one?”
Tria nodded.
“Hopefully, I won’t be too late. I hate making you wait for me.”
“I have nothing else to do,” I told her with a shrug.
“Thanks again,” she said.
“No worries.”
Tria smiled and turned to walk into Fin’s. There was a good chunk of me that just wanted to follow her inside, greasy food smells be damned. But as she disappeared behind the entrance, I turned to head back home.
I was never one to cling, but it almost seemed to hurt when she walked away from me.
Chapter 7—Stake the Claim
The walk home was interesting.
I had been thinking about our conversation most of the night while hanging out at Feet First and listening to some crappy garage band. The conclusion I had drawn was that she had been intentionally elusive about her foster family, and my curiosity gnawed at me as I waited for her to exit Fin’s so I could walk her home and barrage her with more questions.
I didn’t even ask who the patron of the night was this time.
“Why did that guy call you Demmy?”
“My full name is Demetria,” Tria said. “I went by Demmy as a kid. I changed it up a bit when I moved here.”
“New name for a fresh start?”
“Something like that.”
“So, tell me everything else about this family you grew up with,” I said.