by Haley Jenner
Once again, arm slung over my shoulder he walks us amongst the crowd, glancing down at me to offer me the briefest hint of a smile, shaking his head at whatever thought pops into his head.
“Oh my God, I live on Fifth,” I state and his eyes widen momentarily at my declaration. “Only two blocks away.”
“Convenient.” He raises a teasing eyebrow and I roll my eyes.
He ignores the gesture, taking a large bite of his burger before washing it down with a sizeable swallow of water from his glass.
“Take you to dinner tomorrow night, if you’re free.”
I cover my mouth as I chew, nodding my head. Swallowing the mouthful of food, I dab my mouth with my napkin. “I’d like that.”
He watches me for a second, nods his head once and returns to his lunch. We eat in relative silence, which is strangely nice, enjoying one another’s company enough not to have to fill the quiet with useless chatter. His gaze sits on me at times, drawn out looks that I can’t quite read. For that, I can’t tell if I enjoy him looking at me that way. The storm in his eyes so vibrant, I can’t tell if they’re shining on me with animosity or affection. So I choose to ignore it. Refuse to read into it any further than I need to.
He asks sporadic questions, none of them deep, all surface information to get to know me. He never shows a reaction to an answer, only offering a slight chin lift and nod of his head in acknowledgment. He artfully evades the few questions I ask him; answering with a question of his own or providing the most basic response he can muster. I give him that. This time. I’m not ready to push him away again by pushing further than he wants to go with sharing.
He touches me often, reaching across the table to take my hand in his or brush a thumb across my knuckles. It’s nice, the unconscious acts of affection he shows. I like that. A lot.
Glancing at my watch, I pout. “I gotta head back. Leaving Pia in the shop unattended is…” I shake my head on a loaded exhale of air, unwilling to search for the right word to describe my less than ideal work colleague.
Parker stands, his height towering above mine as I take his hand. “I’ll walk you back.”
He doesn’t hold hands. Not for long anyway. He’ll take it to pull me closer. To help me up. But that’s it. He’ll always let go. I’m not disappointed by it though. Because he does one better, he’ll throw his arm along my shoulder and pull me tightly into his side.
Each. And. Every. Time.
He wants me close. And that’s exactly where I want to be.
He walks me back to Blaq with little conversation, his eyes staring ahead. Arriving back, he pulls me flush into his body, hugging me tightly to him. I look up as he looks down, his lips moving down to touch mine. He kisses me much like before; deep and hungry. I’m too caught up in the feeling of his mouth to care we’re in the middle of the street, surrounded by people.
Pulling back, he steps from our embrace, the corner of his mouth teasing up in the telltale sign of his smirk. “Second fact for the day, you don’t need to pull me into an alleyway to kiss me.” His smirk widens forming itself into a grin and I can’t help but return it. “Happy for every fucker in this city to know you’re mine. And I’ll touch and kiss my woman wherever and whenever the fuck I want.”
“Noted,” I whisper.
He winks, turning to walk away before glancing over his shoulder. “Text me your address, Sugar. Pick you up at eight.”
Seven
Parker
I scratch my naked chest absentmindedly, body leaning against the open fridge door as I survey its contents. It’s near lunchtime and my eyes are still blurry from sleep, which I just woke from, like the fucking dead.
I’m exhausted. Shit, I didn’t breach the threshold of the loft until after the sun had risen this morning, barely having enough energy to shed my clothes before falling face first onto my bed. Where I’d stayed, passed out, until only fifteen minutes ago.
“Coffee or a shake?”
I twist my head at the sound of Rocco’s voice, stepping from the crisp air of the fridge and closing the door.
“Kill for coffee, but I’ll go the shake.”
I drag my feet from the kitchen, dropping onto the first stool along the kitchen island, elbows to the cool marble, pushing into the sockets of my eyes with the hard press of my palms.
“Got in late last night,” Rocco states, pulling bits and pieces from the fridge, back toward me.
“Hmmm… try fuckin’ early morning.”
He glances back at me, nodding. He’s dressed, presentably; dark jeans, dark Henley, boots still on his feet. “Just got in or headed out?” I ask.
He chops and cuts a range of veggies and fruits into the blender, turning it on and watching me as the screeching sound of my breakfast ricochets through our loft. It stops and he turns to the cupboard, reaching for our protein and scooping heavy spoonfuls in before turning it on briefly once again.
Pouring us each a shake he moves closer, handing me mine and taking a deep swallow of his. “Just got in, breakfast with Aunt Mira.”
I look over him for a drawn-out second. “Spending a lot of time with her lately. Everything cool?”
He tips his head this way and that. “Yeah. Finally setting our plan into motion, I’ve been thinking about mom a lot. Mira’s the only one that remembers her, that can tell me things about her. Helps with the fuckin’ train wreck that is my brain.”
I smile solemnly before my mouth twists in obvious distaste. “Marcus there too?”
He grunts angrily around another large swallow of his shake, emptying the glass. “Been on a bender for a few days,” he discloses. “Rocked up smelling of some other bitch’s perfume, red lipstick staining his shirt, dickhead doesn’t even try to hide it. I made her pack some shit and put her in a hotel for the next few nights. Don’t want her around him when he’s coming down off whatever the fuck he’s been on.”
I shake my head furiously. “Why the fuck does she stay? Shit, she knows she’d be welcome here. We’d protect her.”
“Tried, man, but I get her fears. Marcus is fuckin’ unhinged. She’s not just protecting herself, she’s tryin’ to protect us as well.”
I cough around the revulsion coursing through my body. “Like to see him try and come at me. Fuckin’ coward.”
“That’s the problem, dollface. He wouldn’t come at you, he’d come from behind. This way we can all keep him in line.”
I shrug him off, I’d like nothing more than to put that psycho in the ground. Take his breath from his body for all the hurt he’s caused Mira. I feel weak not being able to protect her. Not that he tends to use his fists on her anymore, not since Rocco and I grew bigger than him, grew stronger. Still. The guy is scum.
“Why were you at the club so late?” Rocco breaks into my angry thoughts and I sigh heavily.
“Speaking of the fuckin’ devil, Ruin was his choice of hell last night.” I smile sarcastically, irritation and rage bubbling over my skin at the mere thought of the fuckwit. “Rocked up with a group of underage fuckin’ girls, feeding ‘em booze and God knows what else. They weren’t with it though.”
The flare of Rocco’s nostrils gives away the bristling storm swirling within him. He’s silent, and it’s eerie so I fill the void with the sound of my own voice. “A fight had broken out before I even knew he was there. Throwing his weight around, kickin’ a group of people outta the VIP lounge upstairs.”
Biting his bottom lip to hold back the tirade of expletives he’s dying to let loose, Rocco shakes his head. “What d’ya do?”
I shrug. “He went head to head with me as soon as I came into view. Asshole. In the end, I had to threaten callin’ the cops to get him to leave. Thankful he did so without his schoolyard groupies in tow.”
“Glad I moved Mira today. He’ll be fuming over you making him look the fool.”
I nod my agreement, pissed off we’re forced to hide Mira to protect her stubborn ass. “New bartender is also a fucktard, fired her on the spot so I wa
s working the bar until we closed. Stayed a little after that to finish some of the paperwork I was supposed to spend the night doin’.”
Guilt flashes over Rocco’s features, knowing he’s leaving me to run the bar solo most of the time. “I’ll take tonight, bar tended or will I need to cover?”
I shrug. “Fin thinks he’s got a cousin that can handle the consistency of the crowd. Told him to bring him in tonight. Let you make the decision of how competent he is.”
He nods. “Fuckin’ hate staff.”
“Amen, brother. So, how was Mira?”
Rocco smiles affectionately, starting his retreat from the kitchen. “Come on, she gave me some shit I wanna show you.”
I follow him into the living room, dropping onto the couch beside him. Sliding his hand into a small brown paper bag, he pulls out a small pile of faded photos and I glance to them in interest.
“They’re of Mom. And Mira. When they were kids. Teenagers. Before Kane. Before Marcus. Before us.”
I sit up straighter, reaching out a hand to look as he passes them to me individually.
Mom stares out at me, her smile commandeering her entire face, unfiltered happiness shining from her. “Shit, she can’t be more than sixteen here,” I say, more to myself than to Rocco, my finger brushing along the line of her smile.
She was so beautiful, a tan covering her skin, long blonde hair falling over her shoulders in messy waves. Large gray eyes, much like mine and Rocco’s, staring out at me from the faded photo. I can pretend, almost, that she is looking at me. Only me. Her wide, infectious smile directed to me, like it once used to do.
I swallow against the sudden onset of emotion choking me as Rocco passes me another photo, this one of Mom and Mira.
“Shit,” I laugh. “Look at how goofy they were.”
Rocco laughs, leaning over to look at the picture again. Mom and Mira are standing together, arms draped over one another’s shoulders, foreheads pressed together in a laugh.
“They looked so alike when they were younger. I only see the similarity in certain looks nowadays.”
I nod as he passes me another photo, letting myself get lost in my mother’s face once again. My heart feels heavy in my chest and the feeling of loss I work so hard to suppress, rears its ugly head and I swallow the ache sliding up my throat, attempting to suffocate me.
We flick through photo after photo, watching her smile, laugh and letting the wound in our chests, so barely contained, reopen and bleed inside.
“Fuck. I miss her.”
I don’t even think he’s realized he’s spoken, but I move a hand to grab hold of his shoulder, squeezing. He sniffs, his head tipping back and hands me the last one in the bunch. “We should frame this one.”
I take it from him and understand the sudden show of emotion. Mom is sitting on a couch, Rocco climbing over her back, laughing. Her hands are grasped around my middle, tickling me, my face alight with laughter. It’s her smile though; staring directly at the camera, so fucking happy in that single moment with the two of us.
I clear my throat, my neck twisting to look at Rocco. My eyes sting with the tears I’ve held so long at bay and I nod. “Yeah,” I exhale heavily. “I’ll grab a frame when I’m out today.”
We sit in silence for close to an hour, flicking through some of the few things we have left of our mother; memories and photographs. Placing the pictures on the coffee table, Rocco stands, his eyes red-rimmed, the fire in his eyes dancing dangerously.
“Gonna clean up the kitchen, then head into work. Will text Fin and tell him to bring his cousin in early, check him out before we open.”
“Good idea,” I offer distractedly, eyes still focused on my mother.
I feel his stare for a moment longer before he walks away. I stay there on the couch, for an indefinite amount of time; letting myself recall every small detail of her face, bringing her back to life. At least in my mind. I close my eyes and remember her smiling, laughing, loving me. She did that fiercely, love us. Fuck, there was never any doubt in my juvenile brain that she fucking adored me and Rocco. She made sure we knew we were her world. Us. Nothing more, nothing less. I often wonder how different we’d be if she hadn’t been taken from us. If her life hadn’t been stolen away without consideration for the collateral damage that would follow. I try to imagine what it would be to live without this fire in my heart, this fire for revenge. This hate.
What would Rocco be like? Shit, he’s consumed with the rage, with the unrelenting need for vengeance. What if he didn’t need that? He’s spent his life playing parent while wrestling with the maniac inside his head, fueled only by the need for retaliation.
I’ll never know. He likely won’t ever know. But maybe, with any luck, our plan for atonement will bring him a sliver of peace. However small. He deserves that much. We deserve it.
Our strategy for payback is right. It’s justified. I know that deep in my soul. Staring into the same eyes as mine, so similar they could be hers, so faded and discolored in a photograph, I feel it. I might have my doubts, but she deserved more.
My. Mom. Deserved. More.
Collecting the pictures into a small neat pile, I move toward my bedroom, tucking them safely into my drawers, buried safely under my boxers and socks. Changing into a pair of gym shorts, I wrap my hands, eager fury running through my veins. This is what I needed. A reminder. An emotional slug right to my face, impossible to ignore. A not-so-subtle whisper recalling the reason behind this plan. Codi Rein is sweet, sure, but other than a sweet piece, who is she to me, really?
No one.
She’s fucking no one.
My mother was someone. My reason for living. The person who gave me a heart and showed it how to beat. The person who taught me what love was. The most important person in my life, alongside Rocco. The lifeline that was ripped from me.
Codi Rein will be their penance. I’ll rob her from them, the way they took her from me and I’ll show them what real pain is. What misery feels like. What hopelessness is. I’ll rip their goddamn blackened hearts from their chests before their very own eyes and crush it in my palm. They’ll see their blood and tears run over my tattooed hand as I extinguish their souls and I smile doing it. Really fucking big.
Then we’ll have our peace.
We’ll have our revenge.
***
My cell buzzes in my pocket as I walk toward Codi’s apartment block, my heavy footsteps echoing along the quiet street. My mind feels clearer than it has in weeks. A renewed sense of purpose seems to have washed over me and I feel invigorated with my determination.
Rocco’s name lights on my screen and I slide my thumb across it, drawing it to my ear.
“Yo.”
“Checkin’ in. Seeing how you were holding up after today. Seeing those pictures was heavy.”
I swallow against the affecting clog of Rocco’s tone. “I’m good, man. Better than. I’m glad we have them. Fired the monster inside me. Made me more determined.”
I can see the smile on his face, obvious from the elated sound of his voice. “Good. Real fuckin’ glad to hear it, brother.”
I reach Codi’s apartment, taking a step or two past it and turning my back. “I’m ready, Rocco. I’m ready to send them to hell.”
“Calm down, dollface. Enjoy yourself for a bit first. No harm in tasting what the bitch has to offer before we take the next step.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “So, listen,” I cough out. “Don’t think I say it enough, if ever, I appreciate you, man. Always got my back and I —”
“Parker, don’t sweat it. You don’t thank me for being here. You’ve got my back just as much as I have yours.”
“Nah,” I laugh out. “Ain’t nothing in this world I could do to pay you back for all the shit you’ve taken to protect me.”
Silence hits me for a moment and we remain that way for a second before Rocco clears his throat. “Do it again. No hesitation.”
“We’ll get it, Roc. Our peace
. Hers. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Damn. Fucking. Straight. Listen, gonna get back to it. I’ll catch you later.”
He hangs up without waiting for a reply and I push out a deep breath, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders before shoving my cell in my pocket and turning around.
I stop cautiously at Codi’s anxious face, her eyes moving over me nervously. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Heard your voice.”
“How much you hear?”
She shakes her head vigorously. “Not much. Nothing really. Barely anything.”
Her cheeks shade at her rambling and I take a tentative step closer. She doesn’t recoil from my advance and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not afraid, means maybe she didn’t hear anything of value. Anything that could derail our plan.
By the time I’ve reached her, her cheeks are still shining but with an entirely different emotion. Her tongue peeks out, wetting her brightly painted lips and I smirk down at her. It’s fake. My worry about what she heard still playing on my mind. She reads the falseness of the smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly and I don’t give her another second to second-guess me, I lean down, dragging my nose along the line of her jaw.
“Smell good. Always so sweet.”
She releases a shaky breath and I grin to myself. Success. I plant a soft, drawn-out kiss along her jawline, pulling back marginally to find her lips. They’re delicately agape, her eyes closed and I don’t hesitate in dragging my tongue along her top lip. She chases my tongue with hers, and I give in to my need to taste her. Rocco’s right, I need to enjoy her while I can.
I push her against the doorjamb, still standing within the open frame as the door closes against my back. Any of her neighbors could see us, caught halfway between the inside and outside of her apartment. She doesn’t seem to mind, pulling me into her as I assault her lips. She gives as good as she gets, her tongue moving desperately against mine, soft needy cries breaking into my throat.