“This isn’t on you. You guys are victims as much as we are, even more so.”
“Still,” I argue, my gaze shifting to my lap, “it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Is Harvey giving you a hard time about it?” Zander’s sharp voice brings my attention back to him.
“No.”
“Good, because I’d have to kick his ass if he was,” he threatens. Surprisingly, he doesn’t sound like he is lying. “Look, if you want to feel guilty, then I can’t stop you. But I also hope you acknowledge to yourself that it’s only you who thinks you deserve that.”
Glancing back down at my hands, I think past my hangover and recall the past few days, letting it all wash back over me. “I riled Donny up, and now Lola is dead now.” I take a deep breath to stop myself from choking on that and push through the sudden pain in my chest from thinking about the fact that an innocent woman is dead over this mess. “And I didn’t answer his call yesterday. I should have realized that, if fighting with him meant he would kill someone, then ignoring him wasn’t going to have a good outcome, either.”
“And none of that is your fault,” he reiterates. When I don’t have a response, he appears to change the subject. “I assume Ava told you a little about what happened to her when you were in my car together?”
“Yeah,” I croak out. “What you guys went through sounded awful.”
“Did she tell you how she blamed herself?” he asks, frustration ringing clearly in his tone. “Said she should have realized she was dating a man that sick. She thought she deserved to know what Clarke did to his victims because she deserved that on her conscience.”
I frown at that. “How was she supposed to know she was dating a sicko?”
“Exactly! And how were you supposed to know O’Neal would go off the handle like he did?”
I sigh, seeing what he’s doing, but it’s not the same. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, it just is. Donny isn’t some innocent-looking man who pulled the wool over my eyes. I knew he wasn’t right,” I argue, my voice rising as I feel the guilt pressing against me.
“So, you suspected he was willing to commit arson? Suspected he was willing to kill an innocent woman?”
“What?” I gasp. “No! I didn’t know he was capable of that,” I deny, feeling sick again as my stomach churns.
As disappointed as I was to know Donny was still in my father’s clutches, I never considered how far down the rabbit’s hole he had fallen. Stupidly, I had hoped he still clung to some of the boy I used to know.
“See?” Harvey says smugly, like he got one over on me.
I shake my head, settling my hand over my stomach, hoping I don’t vomit all over Harvey’s boss. “But I knew he was working for my dad. And my dad started all this—”
“You take the blame for all your dad’s actions, too? ’Cause fuck, how the hell are you supposed to breathe if you have all that crap on your shoulders?”
I rub my head, not sure if it’s the conversation giving me a headache or my hangover.
The front door opening saves me from having to come to a conclusion.
Zander and I both stand as Harvey walks in, looking uncertainly between us.
“Everything okay?” he finally asks, moving to stand next to me, brushing his hand over my back.
“Everything is great,” Zander says, sounding falsely chipper. “I was just thanking Nix here for helping Ava become a she-demon today.”
“That bad?” Harvey asks on a wince.
“I’m not sure if it will be safe for me to return tomorrow, let alone later today.”
“Right, well, you’re welcome to hang out here for a while,” Harvey offers, his gaze searching mine for who knows what.
“No, I promised I would bail Declan out of his misery. Actually”—he glances down at his watch—“I should get going.”
“Okay.” Harvey still sounds unsure, making me wonder if he’s worried that Zander came here to have stern words with me or something.
“You guys have plans for New Year’s?” Zander asks when he’s at the door, his hand hovering over the handle.
Harvey glances back to me, and I shrug. My plans were to work at the restaurant.
“Then you should hang out with us,” he offers. “We’re doing a group thing. This time, we’ll be around to supervise the drinking.”
Harvey grins, and when he answers, it takes me by surprise.
“We’ll think about it and let you know.”
We’ll think about it. We are a we now. When did that happen?
“I may need longer to recover,” I mention on a groan, shelving the we thought for a time when I don’t feel hungover, sick, and too exhausted to process much of anything.
Zander gives me a warm smile and Harvey a head nod before he leaves.
Harvey moves over to the bags he dumped in the kitchen and hands me over some chop sticks and a couple of boxes. I’m not sure I’m ready for the amount of takeout he brought home, but I’m hungry enough to give it a try. Either this food will soak up the alcohol still in my system, or I will be seeing it again in a way I won’t like.
“What was that all about?” Harvey asks between mouthfuls of noodles, leaning his hip against the counter, obviously too hungry to bother moving.
I sit on a stool beside him and devour everything in front of me without tasting much.
“With Zander?”
“Yeah. Everything okay?”
“Yes. He said he wanted to personally make sure I wasn’t concerned about the fire at your office. He was worried I felt guilty or something,” I offer, not sure I’m willing to go into this again so soon, and with food in my stomach.
“Are you feeling guilty?”
“Well, of course I am. I also get it’s irrational and that no one blames me,” I rush out, hoping he’s satisfied with the answer.
Harvey moves around the counter, taking my free hand. He moves us, and the rest of the food still in bags, over to the couch. Then he sits next to me so our sides touch, and I rest my head against his shoulder as he lifts his legs to rest his feet on the coffee table.
There is something comforting and easy about us right now. Something I’m not sure I experienced before.
“Well, as long as you know it’s irrational,” he finally mutters, taking a stab of the food with a chopstick, seeming tense.
“I’m sure I’ll get over it.” I shrug. One can hope, right? “Donny being locked up and my dad never contacting me again would be nice.”
“Believe me, we’re working on it.”
“How did last night go?” I finally ask, feeling somewhat ready to have this conversation and hoping I haven’t already had it and it has been sucked into the black hole that most of last night has gone into.
“We followed O’Neal to a warehouse. The situation was tense. The person he was meeting was a crime boss, Anthony Vincent. They paid him three-hundred grand for a distraction.”
“A distraction?” I think aloud, not sure what that means.
“Yeah, we’re not sure what type of distraction, or when. Things started out with a standoff. Vincent said he was promised, if your dad couldn’t be there, you would. O’Neal had to up it from two-hundred to three when he started getting angry.”
My eyes widen over this, questioning if we officially crossed over to the point where the hit on Harvey is back on.
It was one thing to wonder if the call I missed from Donny was because he needed me for a meeting, but to have it confirmed is something else altogether.
“That couldn’t have gone over well. Do you think you’re safe being out and about anymore? Maybe you should—”
“I’m not hiding, Nix. Your father isn’t a good guy, and neither is O’Neal. I’m not going to stop living my life, or working toward putting them away for good because of a threat.”
“A threat?” I shriek, lifting my head from his shoulder so I can glare at him. “He came after us just a few days
ago! I have the cut to prove he threatened to stab you!” I sound slightly hysterical as I point to my cheek. It’s no longer bandaged and looks more like an innocent papercut now rather than a sinister knife attack.
“I was caught off guard. That won’t happen again,” he promises, wrapping his arm around me and weaving his hand through my hair, urging me to place my head back on his shoulder.
I resist, though it feels heavenly to have his hand running through my hair.
“And if the next attack is from a sniper? Or happens with a bomb set on a timer?” I yell, sounding frenzied now.
I’m panting as Harvey rips the food out of my grasp and chucks it uncaringly onto the coffee table, his own already sprawled out over some magazines.
“Nix, look at me,” he demands, cupping my face and caging me in until my whole view is taken up by him. “I’m fine. There has been no chatter about a hit out on me. Jerry’s on it, and if anything changes, we’ll know instantly. If that happens, we’ll plan accordingly. As of right now, there is no need to start freaking out over this.”
I let his words sink into me. They don’t stop my worry from blooming irrationally inside my mind, but they do ease a little of my freak out.
Harvey is on top of this, and he’s not taking unnecessary risks.
I try to calm down, and only when my breathing comes out a little easier does Harvey let go of my face and pull me back against him. I go easily, resting my head on his shoulder while he rests his hand on my thigh.
“What’s going on, Harvey? What is my dad doing? What are these meetings about?” I rush out, wishing he could at least answer one of those.
“I don’t know,” he replies softly, gently stroking my thigh. “But all the guys are working on it. I get the feeling, if Sasha is half as bad as Zander alluded to, then both he and Declan will likely be putting in a few extra hours today to stay away from their terrifying partners. And if they’re working on it, then Joey and Jerry will be on the case, too.”
“So, you’re saying my drinking binge made everyone work harder?” I ask on a small smile, hoping to focus on something silly. Thankfully, Harvey returns it.
“Yeah, something like that.” He rolls his eyes. “You still hungry?”
Surprisingly, I am. So, while I’m reluctant to move away from Harvey, I eagerly reach for my food and scoff the rest.
Harvey salvages what food he can, and then he makes his way systematically through the bag, eating enough food that even I’m impressed he found room to put it all away.
Harvey isn’t small, but anyone who can put away a couple pounds of rice without looking like they are struggling is clearly an anomaly.
We sit in silence as we eat. Harvey takes a little longer than me to reach feeling full, but as soon as he places down his empty box, I turn into him and rest my head back on his shoulder. I turn so I can breathe in his scent, my forehead touching his neck.
“You’re touchy-feely today,” he tells me as he shuffles his arm behind me, lifting his hand to stroke my hair again.
I think Harvey is as addicted to doing this as I am to having him do it.
“You should try not to smell so good if you don’t want me rubbing up on you.”
“Not saying I have a problem with it,” Harvey quickly tells me, tightening his hand around my neck as if he’s worried I will pull back from him.
Harvey is quite possibly the most comfortable person in the world. I could fall asleep in his arms, even if we were stuck lying on a bed of thorns. It’s not just his inviting body heat, or his hard muscles that assure me I’m safe with him. It’s just Harvey. The man who gave me a hot water bottle with a joke penis attached as a gift to keep me warm, as well as makes me smile. It’s the man who everyone can’t stop telling me is hard to get to know, yet seems open and willing with me. He’s the man I can’t stop thinking about, even when my life seems to be falling apart around me.
“You want some dessert?”
I snort, rubbing my over-full stomach. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“That’s a shame,” he grumbles, the vibration rumbling through my body. “I can think of something that would make a pretty fucking awesome dessert.”
I shiver from his playful and suggestive tone, and the ideas that pop into my head. However, I push them away, needing another few moments of being in his arms and my food settling before I consider any playful activities.
“It’s weird,” I finally mutter, my thoughts drifting.
“What’s weird? My dessert? Last night you were screaming about how beautiful it was.”
I flush as memories of doing just that return to me. Shit, how am I ever going to live last night down?
“Oh, my God, how could Zander even look me in the eye? Fuck, how could he even look you in the eye?”
“Once you’ve been around those women long enough, nothing fazes you.”
I wonder how long is long enough. Currently, I am still at the mortification stage.
“Whatever. What I mean is, it’s weird to not be working. I know it’s going to be a massive headache to get the restaurant back up and running, but right now, I can’t do much. My hands are tied.”
“I like the idea of your hands being tied.”
Okay, now it’s harder to keep my mind on track.
“We’ll come back to that,” I promise. “I just mean, I don’t usually have time for this.” I wave between us. “I’m always in a rush. Or always exhausted. I work seven days a week. My only guaranteed days off are Christmas Day and Good Friday. I have never spent so much time in someone else’s apartment. I’ve never seen so much TV. I’ve never had a sit-down talk with the boss of a guy I really like. I’ve never even lounged around on the couch, eating takeout before. I mean, you’ve seen my couch,” I point out, adding throwing that in the trash to my list of jobs. “I’ve never been part of a we before, and I’ve never had time to consider all the ways I want to wear my dick out. This is … weird.”
“But good weird, right?” Harvey asks.
I lift my head off his shoulder to see he seems unsure. Nervous, perhaps?
“Hell yes,” I assure him, loving it when he leans down to kiss me.
Moving back to our positions, I think over the week, starting with breaking into Harvey’s office.
“You know, I thought you had a dog.”
“Really? Why?”
“On your work desk, you have a photo of one.”
He tenses next to me, and I bite my lip as I consider how I possibly touched upon a sore subject.
“I had a dog when I was a kid, but I haven’t ever owned one myself.”
“Oh, so the dog in the photo was your childhood pet?”
He doesn’t immediately answer, and I wonder why this is such a touchy subject.
“No, that was Joey’s dog, Karma.”
“Weird name,” I mutter, leaning away from him again so I can see his face.
“Perfect, actually,” he counters, his eyes distant. “She died last year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
He nods, his gaze focusing back on me. “She was a great dog. The best. She died trying to protect Teagan.”
My mouth drops open, the assumption that Karma died of natural causes dissipating. “What the hell?”
“It was a shit time.” He gives me a small shrug, pulling me back against him. “Joey got Teagan a new pup last week. I haven’t met her yet, but Teagan wants us to take up walking her once the weather clears up better. Although, by that stage, she will likely be waddling more than walking.” He chuckles before his eyes widen and he stares down at me. “Don’t ever tell her I said that. She would kill me.”
I laugh now, nodding that I agree.
“I’m not sure I won any points with Teagan last night. I don’t recall a lot, but I think she was looking at me in disappointment for most of the night.”
“I doubt that. She likes you,” he tries to argue. I think that’s wishful thinking on his behalf. I definitely took
a step back in Teagan’s estimation of me last night.
Why did I have to get so blinding drunk?
“What did you give me last night?”
“An old family remedy. You probably don’t want to know the details of what’s inside. At least, not until your hangover is completely gone.”
“You know, I don’t doubt there is something awful in that.” I shudder, still recalling how it tasted.
“It helps purge the alcohol. The sooner it’s out of your system, the quicker the hangover disappears the next morning,” he explains.
“Well, I’m never touching another drop of alcohol again. I’m not even sure if I will be able to bring myself to work behind the bar again.”
“You have to,” he demands, a small smile on his lips.
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be sad if I never see you wearing your cute little apron again.”
He laughs as I shove my elbow into his side.
“Shut up.”
“How about you make me?” he asks suggestively, leaning over until his body is covering mine, his lips only a breath away from mine.
“Challenge accepted,” I murmur, lifting my head to align my lips along his.
His tongue charges into my mouth while he shoves his hand into my hair, pulling it until I groan into his mouth.
Then my phone rings.
“Fuck. Just ignore it,” Harvey begs, but I can’t.
Not only could it be my dad or Donny, but it could also be my mom, or the police, or even Lola’s grandmother with funeral news.
“I told Lola’s grandmother to call me if she needed help with any of the arrangements,” I argue.
Now it’s Harvey’s turn to groan as he shifts off me, his head hitting the back of the couch as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down.
I gently pat his chest while I reach out and grab my phone. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
“If it’s that fucker O’Neal, give me the phone,” he growls.
I gulp, looking down at the screen and feeling a moment of relief that it isn’t Donny. Then the relief flees when I acknowledge who is calling me.
I Broke Into His Office (Love at First Crime Book 4) Page 23