Hold On

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Hold On Page 7

by Kristen Ashley


  Merry kept at me. “Who’s Trent?”

  “Merry, Jesus.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Let it go.”

  “What’s in that envelope and why’s she givin’ it to you?”

  I felt my eyes get squinty as the heat of shame and anger poured through me, not believing he’d think of me what it seemed he was thinking.

  “You think I’m into bad shit?”

  “Fuck no,” he returned. “You’re you, so that didn’t cross my goddamned mind. But also, that woman would cut off her own arm before she’d fuckin’ jaywalk. That doesn’t mean she didn’t freak you out. So tell me what’s goin’ down with her.”

  I shook my head, trying to find control. “Seriously, Merry, I get why you’re here. Shit happened with us—you’d sustained a blow, we got drunk, it got outta hand. I get where you were and where we now are. It’s good. We’re good. Leave this shit alone, we’ll stay good.”

  He crossed his arms on his chest. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s not a big deal,” I lied, not having a problem lying to Merry. I’d essentially been doing it, hiding my feelings for him, for years.

  The anger seeped out of his features, gentle chasing in after it.

  Shit, fuck.

  God, he was so handsome, it hurt.

  And that evidence right there, that he was a good man…

  That…

  It killed.

  “Cher, babe, whatever’s goin’ down, you are not alone.”

  He meant to be nice. He meant to be cool.

  But his words made the anger race right back because I wasn’t; he was right.

  And yet, I so was and I so would be, always and forever.

  “You do not know what you’re fuckin’ talking about,” I bit out.

  “You got friends. You got people who’ll look out for you,” he returned. “Me bein’ one of them.”

  “Yeah?” I asked sarcastically, and I was so angry, the wince of hurt that hit his face didn’t touch me.

  “Fuck. Yeah, Cher. Absolutely,” he said softly.

  I nodded. “Right. Okay. Good to know. So…” I lifted the envelope. “This is three and a half grand from my recovering junkie ex, who took off the day after I told him he’d knocked me up with Ethan, stealing all the money I had with me. Didn’t see his ass again until he got clean and got himself a wife, Peg out there.” I jerked my head to the door. “Now, you bein’ a detective and all, you’d eventually put this together, but I’ll save you the effort. See, Peg, she likes control. Peg, she likes to call the shots. Peg, she’s a woman who knows how the world should be and how it shouldn’t. So Peg’s old man’s got a kid from another bitch, a bitch who used to be a stripper and fucked a serial killer, and Peg’s decided that kid needs to be in a good home, that bein’ hers.”

  “Holy fuck,” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” I spat. “So she’s settin’ it all up.” I waved the envelope in the air. “Settin’ me up to take me down. Do whatever she can to take the only good thing I did in this life away from me.”

  He took a step toward me, murmuring a gentle, “Cher.”

  And, God, that hurt too, the sting so killer, it injected poison in my bloodstream, having his gentle Cher but knowing I’d never really have it.

  I turned the envelope his way to ward him off and he stopped.

  I spoke.

  “To fight her, I’ll need to call on Colt. Again. Feb. Again. Jack and Jackie. Again. I’ll need to explain again why I was taken in by Lowe. More will go down, askin’ good people who look out for me to keep doin’ it, all this takin’ money I can’t afford to fight it. But the bottom line is, Ethan’ll be dragged through it. The Denny Lowe shit will resurface. Ethan might get it at school. He might lose friends. And straight up, my history is such a big pile of stinking crap, Colt could convince the president to come and stand as a character witness to my mothering skills and I’d still lose my kid. So yeah, Merry, I know I got friends. I know people will look out for me. I know you’re one of ’em. But that does not mean I am not still very, very alone.”

  “Come here, Cher,” he whispered, and I could see it, hear it, goddamned fucking feel it.

  He wanted to comfort me. Put his arms around me and make it all better.

  He had the power to do that.

  He just would never use it because he didn’t really want it.

  “No,” I said firmly, the poison activating, my insides melting, the pain extreme.

  His head jerked and his gaze grew intense.

  I continued talking.

  “You don’t get that,” I told him. “You came here to get me to go to Frank’s so you could tell me what went down with us was just a drunken fuck, no more. We don’t change. Am I right?”

  He didn’t answer, so I answered for him.

  “I’m right. So, you don’t wanna be that to me, you don’t get that.” I nodded my head. “I understand, the woman I am. I get it, Merry. No harm, no foul. But you don’t get to pick and choose how you are with me, who you are with me, what you get to give me. I do. So you don’t get that.”

  He said nothing, just stared at me with an alertness that was a little hot but also a little freaky.

  “Now, you tell anyone about this shit, we’re done,” I told him, and his alert went into overdrive, charging the room.

  I ignored it.

  “I mean that, Garrett,” I stated. “This is my business and I’ll deal with it the way I see fit. If I gotta call folks in, I’ll do it. You keep your mouth shut or what we got you wanna keep you’ll lose. I’m not jokin’ with you. I’m all kinds of serious.”

  Finally, he spoke.

  “The woman you are.”

  “The woman I am,” I confirmed.

  “What woman is that, Cher?” he asked.

  Was he serious?

  He’d said it his damned self to Colt.

  Woman she is, she knows…

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know,” I hissed.

  “He played you,” Merry declared. “A million other women would have bought his shit the same as you.”

  We were not doing this.

  “Stop it,” I spat.

  “Goddamned truth,” he pushed. “I know, babe, I’m in the business. Women buy shit like that all the time. The extremes may vary, but you are far from the only one.”

  I couldn’t do this, and more, I wasn’t about to.

  So I put a hand to my hip, cocked my head, and asked, “Shit, darlin’, two-for-one special? You give me five orgasms and heal all my emotional wounds? Shoulda signed up for that plan years ago.”

  His mood deteriorated instantly.

  “Don’t be a bitch,” he clipped.

  “Don’t pretend you know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in my head,” I shot back.

  “Maybe, you let the door to that fortress you built around you open an inch, I can get in and you’ll find I do know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in your head, I give a shit about you, and I wanna see you let it go and find yourself some happy.”

  “That doesn’t happen for girls like me, Merry,” I told him.

  “That’s bullshit, Cher,” he told me.

  I jabbed my hand with the envelope at him. “You do not know what it’s like to live my life.”

  “Open the door an inch, Cher. I get through, we’ll sit down and you can tell me.”

  “Fuck that,” I snapped.

  He rocked back on his heels, his eyes burning into mine, and murmured, “Right.”

  Goddamn it!

  It was time to end this, and at that moment, I didn’t care how much I was ending.

  “You know, straight up, baby, I got a choice between Garrett Merrick, the guy I shoot the shit with, and Garrett Merrick, the man who gives phenomenal head, I pick door number two because you’re good with your mouth, but you’re better with your cock.”

  No hesitation, he returned fire.

  “You give it good too, sweetheart. Best I had in fuckin’ years. You�
�re ready to go again, you give me a call and I’m there.”

  “Ethan’s next sleepover, or the next time I gotta eat shit and send him to my ex and his bitch, you’re on.”

  “Find out you held out on me, after shift you’ll have a caller, and your mom can look after your boy while you’re takin’ my cock in my bed.”

  “You’re on for that too.”

  His eyes continued burning into mine as he rumbled, “I’m not fuckin’ with you, Cher.”

  “Back at you, Garrett.”

  “Then it’s on,” he announced.

  “Oh yeah, baby. It’s on,” I agreed with enticing acid.

  He lifted a finger my way and declared, “Then we got a deal. And you know how I deal, Cher. You know the man I am.” He dropped his hand. “You’re officially takin’ my cock, I officially take your back. I won’t say shit to anyone, but one goddamned thing happens with your ex and his bitch, you tell me. You don’t, we got problems.”

  “Uh…think you forgot somethin’, boss. I take your cock ’cause I want to. That’s it.”

  He shook his head, his eyes still scorching into mine. “Oh no,” he whispered, a sound that crawled over my skin in a way I couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad. “I’m seein’ you think you know the man I am, but you don’t fuckin’ know. Only way with me is my way. We made our deal. You got no choice now but to do it my way.”

  “Don’t hold your breath for that to happen, gorgeous,” I returned.

  “Yeah, one of us is gonna be breathless, brown eyes, that’s a guarantee.”

  He could absolutely guarantee that.

  Absolutely.

  And it hit me at that juncture that I was in the middle of negotiating with Merry a friends-with-benefits-without-the-friendship-part deal.

  How the fuck did that happen?

  “We done with this bullshit?” he asked.

  “We are absolutely done,” I answered.

  “With this bullshit, you’re correct. Other than that, you are not,” he retorted, then turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

  I stared at it.

  Then I sent voodoo vibes of evil I did not have the skill to accurately deliver (or any skill at all) in Peggy’s direction for being whatever the hell she was and doing it with very bad timing.

  After I failed at that endeavor and got my head together, I shoved the envelope in my purse and got back to work.

  * * * * *

  Garrett

  Garrett stood on the tiny balcony of his shit condo and lit a cigarette as he listened to the phone ring in his ear.

  He snapped the top of the Zippo closed and looked out at his stellar view of a parking lot that led to another building of condos, none of which were remotely pretty.

  “Yo,” his friend and brother-in-law, Tanner Layne, said in his ear.

  Garrett exhaled and replied, “Yo, big man, you got a minute?”

  “Sure,” Tanner answered.

  “Listen, I need a favor.”

  “This a favor that’s gonna take a lot of my time, none of which I’ll get paid for, or is this a favor that’s gonna mean me pickin’ up your mail ’cause you’re headed to a beach?”

  This was a valid question. Tanner was a private investigator, a good one. Garrett was a cop. Being a cop, there were rules. Being a PI, those rules were a lot looser. Garrett needed his brother-in-law when he needed loose, something that happened often, and he didn’t hesitate to ask.

  Tanner usually didn’t hesitate to deliver.

  Still, he bitched about it.

  “Not a lotta your time, but it’s important. You find it hard to fit in, I’ll make it worth your while and pay your fees,” Garrett told him.

  Tanner said nothing.

  This was also a valid response. Garrett had never offered this in exchange for services rendered.

  Finally, Tanner spoke. “Jesus. What’s the favor?”

  “Need you to look into some people for me. Man’s name is Trent. His wife’s name is Peg. Don’t know where they live. My guess is Indy but could be anywhere relatively close. Don’t know their last name. Just know you’ll probably find it, you look up the birth certificate of Ethan Rivers née Sheckle, seein’ as Trent’s his birth father.”

  “Fuck,” Tanner muttered, then instantly jumped to the obvious conclusion. “Cher got some problems?”

  “Yeah,” Garrett told him, not giving that first fuck that he’d promised Cher he wouldn’t tell anyone she had issues.

  First, because Tanner would keep it on the down low. Second, because that stick-up-her-ass bitch was not going to get her hands on Ethan. Cher was not going to lose her son. The woman had been through enough. The time that she had headaches outside of the normal ones good folks had was over.

  That was a decision Garrett had made the minute they’d had their conversation, and it wasn’t because he’d fucked her.

  It was because she was Cher and she was a Cher he’d now fucked.

  “According to her,” he continued, “Peg’s not big on her husband’s blood livin’ with an ex-stripper or the rest of the baggage Denny Lowe landed on her.”

  “They goin’ for custody?” Tanner asked.

  “I get the impression, not yet. But I also get the impression that they’re gearin’ up for it.”

  “The impression?”

  “Cher isn’t feelin’ like bein’ super informative at this juncture.”

  Tanner again made no reply.

  “She’s freaked, though, in a big fuckin’ way,” Garrett told him. “Her history, she has reason. The way she’s raisin’ that boy and the love she’s got for him, she shouldn’t worry. But life she’s lived, that won’t be her first thought. She told me her ex is a recovering addict. She called him a junkie. I’m helpin’ her out, hopin’ you might uncover some ammunition in case they wage war.”

  “I gotta be in the office in the morning. I’ll run some searches, get what I got to you, follow up if something opens up,” Tanner offered.

  “Be appreciated,” Garrett muttered, dragging from his cigarette, then exhaling before he said, “Need you to keep this quiet, brother. You and me on this. And by quiet, I mean I don’t even want Cher to know you’re lookin’ into this.”

  “Tough as nails, determined to look out for herself, not drag anyone into her shit,” Tanner deduced.

  “That’s it,” Garrett confirmed.

  “I’ll go quiet,” Tanner told him.

  “That’s appreciated too.”

  “Never ends for her,” Tanner observed. “The legacy of bullshit that asshole laid on her.”

  “Nope,” Garrett agreed.

  “Her ex had problems, we’ll find somethin’,” Tanner assured.

  “I hope so,” Garrett replied, then asked, “You and Rocky gettin’ any sleep?”

  This was also a valid question since his sister and brother-in-law gave him a niece, still a baby, though growing up, and she was a big fan of daytime naps, but she’d never been a fan of nighttime sleep.

  “CeeCee’s determined to be a night owl.”

  Thinking about his beautiful niece, Cecelia, and the fact that she was a product of the love Tanner and Rocky had for each other, Garrett grinned into the night as he took another drag.

  “Listen, Garrett,” Tanner continued. “Heard about Mia. Was deep in it with some work with Ryker. Didn’t have time to seek you out. Called, but you didn’t—”

  Garrett interrupted him. “I’m good.”

  “Brother,” Tanner said low, not believing him.

  Garrett inhaled again, and on the exhale, he stated, “I’m good, Tanner. Did it smart, timed it right, threw a few back when Cher was on.” He felt one side of his lips tip up. “She had a few words with me the only way Cher knows how. But the woman has wisdom.”

  Tanner still sounded disbelieving when he asked, “What’d she say?”

  Since it all came out, the fact that the Merrick family was still dealing with the murder years ago of Raquel and Garrett’s
mom, Cecelia Merrick, that shit being ugly, nearly shredding Rocky, Garrett didn’t hold much back from Tanner Layne.

  Rocky would have come undone if Tanner, his mother, his sons, and his friend/mentor Devin hadn’t held the tatters together. And it might not have happened—a lot might not have happened—if Garrett had given his sister what she’d really needed in the years since their mother was murdered.

  He’d held back in the past, thinking he was protecting Rocky, doing what she told him she needed, looking after his sister, his family.

  Tanner was family. Garrett and his father’s silence about the demons that plagued the Merrick clan after Cecilia had been tortured and shot to death had nearly torn their family apart (again).

  Shit had gone extreme.

  Now he no longer made that same mistake.

  So, right then, Garrett didn’t hesitate in giving it to Tanner.

  “Difference between you and Rocky and me and Mia is you got a shot at gettin’ your woman back, you took it, and you stood by her when the bad hit. I have that same bad shit. A different way, but I got it. Mia knew it and didn’t give that back.”

  “Fuck. Never thought to turn that table, but Cher’s right.”

  She was.

  For years, Garrett never turned that table either.

  Mia was it. The one. Tormenting his mind. Owning his heart.

  He’d been happy with her. She’d been happy with him. It had been good. Beyond good.

  They’d had it all.

  Then he’d ended it, and he didn’t even know why he did it until Rocky came apart that day—Rocky, having done the same thing to Tanner years before, deep down into her bones terrified that happy would vaporize like it had the night Cecilia stood strong to protect her daughter, her husband’s work, then lost her life doing both.

  He also never would have guessed that the day he lost Mia for good was the day he’d see things for what they were.

  Tanner and Rocky had it. Colt and Feb. Cal and Vi. Dusty and Mike.

  Garrett might have it, he didn’t know.

  What he did know, now that Cher had pointed it out, was that Mia didn’t.

  Getting that knowledge from Cher, it was like he’d been yoked, that yoke heavy but also invisible. He didn’t even know it’d hung around his neck, dragging him down.

  And then it was just gone.

 

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