Blackness Within (The Blackness Series Book 5)

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  “I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

  “You’ll die in prison or you’ll die in the streets. It’s time to stop this shit! Stop thinkin’ about yourself and think about me. You did everything for me when I was a kid. Everything! You set me up in life to depend on you and then you bailed. So I’ve done my time payin’ you back. I’ve spent the last decade doin’ everything I can for you. I’m so tired, Blake. I’m not gonna give you an ultimatum. I’m gonna give you the truth. I. Can’t. Watch. You. Die,” I emphasize each word as I sink to my knees in front of him before continuing.

  “My life is barren without your smiles. My heart is empty without your words of love. My laughs are weak without your jokes. My world is lost in despair without you. I need you back. Come back to me. Please, Blake. Come back,” I sob into his chest, clutching at his shirt.

  After seconds, maybe minutes…could have been hours, of my heartache reverberating throughout my tiny home, he murmurs into my hair, “Okay.”

  My head pops up and my eyes lock on their mirror image in his. He’s not lying. My brother has never stolen from me, exposed me to his life or put me in danger. But he’s lied to me enough that I can see it in his eyes like I can see the sun in the sky on a bright sunny day.

  “I’ll go to rehab, Tosh. We need to figure this baby shit out first and then I’ll go. I promise.”

  There’s my brother, strong and self-assured. I smash my lips to his scabbed and scarred face before moving back to our meal. He’s coming back to me. The blackness within me fades slightly as I breathe easier than I have in almost fifteen years.

  O’Sullivan

  I step into the massive kitchen in my house to be hit in the face with my giant weird family. Kid and Kellerman are sitting at the bar laughing about something Johnny is doing on the floor in front of them. Kav and Cal are each playing with one of the twins on the carpet in the great room, giggles and chuckles filling the air. Aidan and Finn are on the huge sectional watching the twins’ show along with ESPN. This is family. This is where I feel my best in life.

  The only person missing from our group is Cara, Kid’s baby half-sister. We only found out about her existence two years ago. She was found after escaping a human trafficker. Her story is long and hard…and she’s only nineteen. We’ve worked our asses off to help her heal—not half as hard as she’s worked—and it’s paying off. Her green eyes are no longer masked with fear and rage. She laughs more than she cries and she’s sleeping nightmare free.

  That’s because she has three protectors that have made it their mission to keep her safe. Cole, Dane and Sawyer are Nick and Kat Cooper’s kids. Three teenage boys found themselves a readymade family when all their birth parents abandoned them. Nick and Kat adopted the boys two years ago and moved in down the street from us a few weeks later. Cara sleeps at the Coopers’ every night. She can’t sleep unless one or all of the boys are with her. I know something about that. I was one of those boys what seems like a lifetime ago.

  Cara’s not here right now because the Cooper family is on a family vacation in South America and she’s with them. Kid hates it as much as she understands it. Where the boys go, Cara goes.

  “You look like shit, Sully,” Kid points out as I walk past her.

  “You smell like it, so we’re even,” I snark right back.

  I don’t stop to socialize, instead opting to throw on some shorts and head to our basement gym. I warm up, jumping rope before I work the speed bag. The rhythm is calming, putting me in a trance so all the other shit spinning in my brain can be pushed to the background.

  “All right.” Kid’s voice stops my thudding of bag. “What’s up?”

  “Nothin’,” I dismiss her and begin to thrum again.

  I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s got on black yoga pants and a scarlet red tank top, wrapping her hands. Once her hands are wrapped, she picks up the sparring pads and motions at me to come at her. I oblige willingly.

  Kid’s a great fighter. I like training with her. She pushes me and holds me off enough that it’s a challenge. I swing at her head and she ducks easily, rolling her eyes at me. We go a few rounds, each taking as many hits and as we land. Once we’re both heaving and sweating, we stop.

  “You ready to start talkin’ or should I kick your ass some more?” she goads me.

  “Natasha’s in trouble,” I respond in a shrug.

  “And you’re involved how?” she asks in an accusatory voice.

  “She called your office and Karl put her through to me. It’s a fucked situation, Kid.”

  She passes me a water bottle and waits for me to elaborate as we flop on our asses next to each other. I gulp down the cool liquid thinking through my day and how to explain it. There’s no good way to put this out there, so I just tell her the whole story from beginning to end.

  “And you just left?” Kid asks, stunned at the finish of my day with Natasha.

  “Yup,” I say popping my p.

  “Pussy,” she grumbles.

  “I am what I eat.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ idiot. How could you just walk away? Who knows what kinda danger she’s in with this shit? If that baby isn’t in the news, then the people that’ll come lookin’ for him are gonna be the type of people that don’t leave witnesses. How the fuck did you walk away from her knowin’ that?”

  “She’s not my responsibility.”

  “Brian,” she growls not liking my attitude. She never calls me Brian unless I’m in trouble.

  “Don’t start, Kid. I can’t do anything for her and you know it. She’s got her killer dog and her brother. The dude may be a junkie, but he’ll protect his sister,” I mutter weakly, climbing to my feet.

  Kid stands along with me, blocking my exit.

  “Pull your head outta your ass and do it quick. Natasha needs someone smart on her side. She’s in a fucked situation. You don’t do somethin’ about it then I will. I don’t know the woman, but she took great care of me in the hospital twice and you haven’t been the same since the first time you laid eyes on her. Lie about it all you want, but I know you. I see you, Sully. I expect more from you in times like this. Grow the fuck up,” she demands before spinning away from me and stomping up the stairs.

  Great. Now I’ve pissed off the one woman in this world no one wants pissed.

  Instead of following the fiery redhead, I hop on the treadmill and set a challenging speed and incline. If I’m exhausted physically, my brain won’t continue to pester me. As my feet pound and my lungs constrict, all I can think about is Natasha. Not my intended goal.

  The first time I saw her, it was the shape from her back to her hips that caught my eyes. She has the curves of Marilyn Monroe, a particular favorite of mine. I don’t like stick-thin women. I like soft smooth women. I like a woman with tits, ass and some meat to grab onto. I’m not into six-packs and guns. I fuck women, not dudes, and I like them to be everything that’s classically female.

  I tried to date a model once. It was a painful experience. Hipbones poking me, elbows digging into me, shoulder blades jagged against my chest, it was like banging the skeleton that hung in my high school biology class. Her personality was even worse. So I kicked her to the curb like I do every other woman. I’m quite good at the “It’s not you it’s me” speech. I’ve perfected it in a way that most women feel bad for me in the end. I’m an asshole, I know.

  Natasha is dangerous for me. Women don’t get under my skin. I don’t think about them once they’re out of my sight. I don’t consider their feelings other than how to make them come. I don’t worry if they’re safe unless they’re with me. And I certainly don’t run to their houses to make them stop crying. Yeah, Natasha needs to be expelled from me. I need an exorcism. Blowing a load should do just the trick.

  With my newfound plan in place, I jump off the treadmill and leap up the stairs three at a time. My plan ends as soon as it begins when Finn approaches me with a haunting look on his face.

  “What?” I sn
arl.

  “Not sure yet. It’s not lookin’ good though,” Finn says, his bright blue eyes stormy.

  It’s a good thing he wears his blond hair short because when he’s tense he rips his hands through it with vigor. If it were any longer, I fear he’d just yank it out.

  “What’s it lookin’ like?” I grumble.

  “No word on the baby. I’m still diggin’ on that front. Blake’s in with a rough crowd, O’Sullivan. Gregor Pedowski’s old crew.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  Gregor Pedowski is dead. Nick Cooper, a secret government agent in the Domestic Crime Agency, saw to that personally a few years ago after the meth kingpin threatened Kid. Kid’s first case as an attorney was for a girl named Mia Rossi. Mia was beaten severely and ended up in a coma. It was believed that her father, a meth distributor for Pedowski, had beaten Mia after she witnessed him murdering her mother. Butch Rossi was convicted of those crimes and served six years of his life sentence. Unfortunately, the prosecutors got it wrong. Butch didn’t kill his wife, Kathy, or beat Mia. He was set up.

  Once Butch was freed from prison, he began to get close with Kid. She has been at Mia’s side like a family member since she took her case. Butch appreciated that love and responsibility shown to his child in his absence and has created a tight bond with Kid and the rest of us because of it. He’s been out of prison a few years now and lives a clean and sober life while tending to his comatose daughter’s needs. He’s a good man that made poor choices in life and it cost him the ultimate price.

  Pedowski tried to take Butch out in a drive-by shooting while Kid was present almost three years ago. We figure he was trying to cover his tracks after surely being the person that set Butch up for the murder and beating. Butch was critically injured but managed to pull through. While Kid waited in the emergency room for Butch, she received a threatening letter. That’s all it took for Cooper to decide to take that motherfucker out in style. A meth house blowing up was too decent for Pedowski, but it got the job done. Now I wish Cooper had been able to take out everyone in the meth ring.

  “I’m not sure how deep Blake’s involved, but the connection is enough to know Natasha’s not safe. You want me to call KCPD?” Finn asks, concern marring his features.

  He’s worried. Never a good sign.

  “She doesn’t want cops involved,” I huff.

  “Maybe she’s not thinkin’ clearly. If she knows what she’s lookin’ at…” he trails off, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

  “I’ll call her and fill her in.”

  We bump fists before I climb a shitload of stairs to my wing of the house. When we first moved into Kid’s house after law school, it was perfect for us. Six bedrooms all with ensuites, huge open living spaces, a pool and pool house, over an acre of land, a basement any man would be proud to have as a man cave and the home itself is one of the only things Kid had after the death of her beloved Uncle Mick.

  Then Kid fell in love and started popping out babies like they were going out of style and we needed more space. So Kellerman and Kavanagh set about expanding the house. Callaghan and I got involved and now we live in a house meant for Beverly Hills. We’ve got fifteen bedrooms, twenty-three bathrooms and enough open space to host concerts if we want. It’s a lot of house, but I now have my own little wing with three bedrooms, a sitting area and a kitchenette. When my family comes in town from Chicago, they stay here with me. Otherwise, it’s a quiet place when I need it. I rarely need it.

  My door shuts with a thud as I make my way over to my bed. I flop backward onto the mattress and swipe my phone off the bedside table. I stare at the screen a long while, trying to figure out what to say. I decide to approach this like an attorney. Present the information and come up with a reasonable solution.

  “Hi. You’ve reached Natasha. I’m sorry I’m not available. Please leave a message and I’ll get back with you as soon as I can,” her voice floats in my ear.

  “Natasha, this is Brian O’Sullivan. Please call me as soon as you’re able,” I say in my most professional voice before disconnecting.

  I shrug off the feeling of disappointment that she didn’t answer and climb into the shower. My body tenses as the cool water runs over my rigid muscles. I’ll be sore tomorrow. As I lather my skin, I consider my options further.

  I can call Natasha again in an hour if I haven’t heard from her. I won’t feel like a stalker too much.

  I can drive by her house and check for signs of life. I’ll feel like a bit of a stalker.

  I can go to her house and wait on the street to make sure she’s safe until Finn has more information. I’ll be mostly a stalker.

  I can knock on her door and sleep on the couch to be certain she’s safe. I’ll be a clinically certified stalker.

  I rinse the suds away before sauntering to my mirror, naked and soaking wet. I run my hands roughly over my face before talking to my reflection.

  “Get your shit together, O’Sullivan. This is just a chick. Do your job and nothing more.”

  With that, I dry off, pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved black Henley thermal. I check my phone to find no response from Natasha and make my decision. That’s a lie. I made my decision when I took her call this afternoon. I’m in too deep and I can’t turn back now.

  “Where are you goin’?” Kid’s voice calls out as I move through the great room toward the garage.

  “Out,” I shout back without looking at her.

  “That’s what I thought,” she bellows triumphantly.

  I chuckle and shake my head as I pull on my leather jacket and boots. She’s always right. I love that woman even if she’s a giant pain in the dick.

  Natasha

  The baby is screaming while Blake shakes and sweats from withdrawals in the guest room. I’ve gotten only glimpses of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. Zeus needs a walk. I’m in desperate need of a shower. And I’m pretty certain I’m losing my mind.

  If I have to wait for Blake to detox to figure out what moves to make next, I won’t make it. I need a plan. I live in a loose routine most of the time, but it’s a routine all the same. I’m so far outside my norm right now I can hardly remember what it looks like.

  I fill my days with the things that make me happy. When I bought my house, it was a sad shell of the home it once was. That was good for me because it meant I could afford to buy it and fix it up on my own. But it also means I spend a lot of my time at Home Depot taking classes on tiling, flooring and a lot of other do-it-yourself skills training. I enjoy the work. When I look around my tiny bungalow, I do it with pride. I’ve improved every surface with my own hands. It’s my blood, sweat and tears in this home and I relish the accomplishment.

  Blake and I grew up in apartments…a lot of apartments. My mother has never owned her own home and never will. She has a hard time getting through a one-year lease. Her biggest problem is men. She can’t stay away from them and she can’t find one that’s worth a damn. They mooch off her, beat her, emotionally abuse her, neglect her, cheat on her or just generally treat her like shit. She’s always got a sad excuse for a man in her life. Blake and I paid the price for that as kids. I would have paid much higher prices if I didn’t have my brother to keep me safe.

  I learned early in life that I’m desirable to men. I have a body that’s naturally alluring. Especially to men that have little to no morals when sharing a space with a fourteen-year-old girl. So, even though I’m an adult and I’ve learned to love my curves, I still do my best to hide my body as much as my face. I’m not ashamed of how I look, but I’m not willing to put myself at unnecessary risk in order to wear a dress that hugs my body like a glove. I’m single. I live alone. My brother’s a drug addict. I choose caution, though I have my days where I hope to feel the security that will allow me to move through this world without thinking the worst in everyone…every man.

  Knock, knock.

  Zeus leaps to his feet at the sound. Snarling and barki
ng his head off, causing the baby to wail louder. I trudge to the door fully expecting the police and social services to be on the other side. I can only imagine what my neighbors think is going on in my typically silent house.

  I yank to door open, cradling the baby in one arm while holding Zeus’s collar with my free hand.

  “Looks like you could use a hand,” Sully’s baritone hits me right in the gut.

  I stare wordlessly into his chocolate eyes before his cocky Cheshire grin creeps across his lips, distracting my gaze. He’s too hot to form normal thoughts around. Trouble.

  “Can you take Zeus on a walk? He’s dying to go out and I don’t have a stroller. If I wasn’t in such a panic when I went to Walmart, I would’ve remembered a stroller is a good thing to have around a baby. I should’ve remembered that—”

  “Natasha,” his calm tone stops me in my rambling tracks. “I’ll take him for a walk. If you have a snowsuit for Junior, I’ll carry him while we walk. It might be good to get him outta the house for a few minutes.”

  “Junior?” I ask, confused at…every damn thing going on right now.

  “Gotta give the baby a name. Junior seems like a good choice for now,” he responds through a slight smirk.

  “I’m sorry. My brain’s not functioning. You wanna come in?”

  I push the door open to offer Sully passage. Zeus left my side as soon as he saw Sully was at the door. I’ve never seen my dog so comfortable with a stranger this quickly. Definitely a sign of trouble. Dogs can smell their own.