Back to You: A Hudson Family Series- Book 1- Synclair and Reece

by Chontelle Brison

  The bar erupted in laughter, fuck face jumped up holding his bleeding and hopefully broken nose. His friends rose from the booth and were squawking. I stepped back with Rachel still behind me.

  Damn. Usually, I had Gus to back me up when crap like this happened. Tonight apparently I was on my own, I sighed realizing it was the one night I had worn a damn skirt, and to make matters worse, I had no freaking underwear on. Pushing the negative stuff away I concentrated on getting control of my bar.

  “One, do not call me Baby,” I said grabbing, the now weeping, fuck face’s arm. I still carried the bat with the other, ready to hit a home run on whoever’s face got in my path. “Two, don’t ever touch a woman like that again.” Steering him toward the exit with his friends in tow, I fixated on how many feet separated me from getting him out of the bar before matters got out of control.

  I was aware frat boy’s friends followed right on my heels. When I was two strides from the exit I felt a strong hand pull back on my shoulder. I pushed frat boy into the closed, heavy oak door and spun to deal with his indignant friends. I was only vaguely aware of frat boy complaining about his nose again as he sagged against the door. His very angry friend pulled back his hand to slap me. I was about to kick him in the kneecap when I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.

  You could have heard a pin drop in the bar. I peered over the angry kid’s shoulder and practically giggled. Standing on top of the bar dressed in his old gray slacks and ugly orange, Hawaiian shirt was Uncle Jack.

  “I believe you aren’t acquainted with rule three, when in doubt refer to rule number 2, now get the hell out of my bar before I let my niece kick all your asses,” He shouted raising the shotgun to show he meant business.

  It was surprising how quick those college kids scooped up fuck face and were out the door. I laughed and waved to UJ, who was crawling off the bartop. I glanced around, everyone was still quiet and the awkward moment was palpable.

  “Free beers folks for the next ten minutes!” I called out, grinning as UJ gave me a grim eye. Crisis averted.

  I was in my office working on inventory when I heard a small knock. I had put my desk back together from my earlier engagement with… damn... whatever his name was and had just settled down to the mountain of reports on my desk.

  “Come.” I hollered not glancing up from the figures I was working on.

  “Synclair?” Rachel inquired. Still not looking up, I used the hand gripping my pen and waved her to one of the chairs in front of my desk.

  She didn’t talk, and I didn’t raise my head. I knew what was coming. Rachel was going to want to talk about what transpired, share feelings and crap and I just wasn’t a feelings kind of gal.

  Rachel had walked into the bar on her twenty-first birthday. I spotted her right away. She had long black hair that shone and the most amazing pale green eyes. Her small pert nose and full rosy lips worked well with her porcelain skin. She was about my height and wore top brand jeans, pumps and had the latest iPhone. She had the small-town girl, going to a big university, written all over her. It wasn’t long before her girl next door looks and infectious laugh drew attention.

  That was the trouble, two guys ended up getting into an argument over her and she had come to the bar counter to ask if there was a back way out of the bar. I had let her hide out in my office until the two clowns fighting over her had moved on. Then she wanted to talk. I mean like, get to know you, talk. I didn’t get to know people, I had UJ, I had the bar and I had the work I did at the woman’s shelter, my life was complete. I didn’t need friends or relationships.

  I told her as much when I practically shoved her out the door that night. But damn if she didn’t come back the next day, with flowers. Who the hell brings flowers to a bar owner? She came back every day, sometimes just to sit at the bar and try to make conversation. I couldn’t shake her.

  I realized this poor, sweet kid was alone here in Vegas. Sure she was a UNLV student with a dorm room and everything, sure she was here to study animal medicine so she could be a veterinarian like her big brother, but this girl had no idea what kind of town she was in.

  Also, who were these big brothers she claimed to have, anyway? Rachel had told me she had four older brothers, all ultra-protective. So much so that she insisted ongoing to UNLV just to get away from them. I hadn’t made up my mind if there was more to it than just protective. My mistrusting self- wondered if they bullied her. If they abused her? The way she talked about her fear that they would swoop into town and force to come home rankled me somehow. So I offered her a job as a barmaid. UJ had done all the hiring paperwork and stuff so I just assumed she was of age. Hell, I didn’t even know her last name.

  I did know one thing, I experienced what it was like to be alone. So I watched over her and protected her when needed, someone with a sweet disposition like Rachel was scarce and for some reason, I didn’t want to see that spoiled.

  A loud sigh brought a smirk to my lips. “Okay, Rachel out with it.” I raised my head up and tried to give her a scowl.

  She smiled instantly, geez she looked like she was sixteen when she beamed with those full dimples and all. I couldn’t help but smile back, damn the kid just made me less edgy somehow.

  “I wanted to say thanks for helping me with those guys. They just wouldn’t stop and then the blonde pulled me on his lap and didn’t let go, I didn’t know what to do.” She stammered.

  I despised the fact that she sounded guilty like it was somehow her responsibility. “Stop it, Rachel, they were out of line. No one gets treated like that in my bar.”

  Grinning she rose from her chair and ran around my desk, knowing what was coming I struggled to prepare myself for the Mack truck that was Rachel, slamming against me in a full out body hug.

  “Thanks, Synclair, you always have my back.” I would have corrected her for the millionth time to call me Syn, but I realized it was a battle I couldn’t win.

  Disentangling myself from her tight grip I directed her back to the chair. “I would do it for anyone Rachel.” I didn’t mean to sound like a dick but I already cared for the kid too much and I had to keep some sense of distance with her. If she knew I cared she’d probably start stalking me on Facebook or try to have sleepovers.

  “Really, is that why you follow me when I drive back to campus every night?” Her eyes gleamed. Crap, I didn’t know she knew about that.

  “Is that why my tip bucket always has, at least, $200 in it every night?” Okay, so I padded her tips to make certain she never went without, I knew she came from money but I still felt like earning her own was important to her, so yeah I padded the jar a bit.

  “Time to go, Rachel,” I told her as I stood from my desk. She knew I was avoiding her statement, and I didn’t care. The hell if I was admitting to anything. “I have to get up early tomorrow, I am volunteering at the Woman’s shelter so off you go.”

  I grabbed my coat and car keys and she grinned again. I swear she looked like the damn Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

  “Got your keys so you can follow me home?” She chuckled smugly.

  Sighing, I led her out the front door of the bar and she waited while I locked it behind us.

  “Syn, girl. I’m so sorry chick, there was this amazing woman, and I just had to hit it.” Came my soon to be ex-security guy as he strolled up to Rachel and I like nothing had happened.

  I

  smiled at Gus. He had been my security guy for the last two years, but his chasing women had caused him go MIA twice, and tonight on one of our busiest nights of the year, could have gotten Rachel hurt. That was unacceptable.

  Turning to the broad-shouldered Samoan, I took the keys to the bar out of his hands. He was a big guy, about six four and three hundred pounds and fully tatted down both muscular arms. His tan face and hard features were intimidating to most. Not to me though. He frowned when I snatched the keys, looking at his empty palm, struggling to make sense of what was transpiring.

 
; “You’re done Gus, I’ll have UJ courier you over your final check plus an extra week,” I announced pulling Rachel along with me toward our cars.

  “What the hell Syn? Just like that?” Came his angry growl.

  Yeesh, what a baby. “Yeah just like that, you’re paid to be here, you weren’t and now you’re done.” I stood by while Rachel got into her white Volvo and then I sauntered over to my red, mustang convertible. I didn’t have a lot of things but this was my one splurge. I loved how fast the 5.0 engine picked up speed and growled as it left others in the dust. I was just about to open the door when Gus’s whining voice hit my ears.

  “You’re a bitch.”

  “You’re unemployed,” I answered throwing my purse in the back seat.

  “You’re a fucking mean bitch.” He screeched. I saw Rachel wince at the insult. I wasn’t bothered I had been called worse.

  “Absofuckinglutely,” I yelled shutting the car door and following Rachel out of the lot. I was done. I was tired. I was following Rachel home and then throwing myself face first into my bed. I stayed right behind her instead of the usual two car lengths. I didn’t see a reason to hide anymore since the little brat already knew. Damn, she was probably going to want to hug again.

  I watched her turn into the campus parking lot and park. I was about to pull out of the spot, where I had pulled up next to her when she jogged up to the driver’s side of my Mustang. Sighing, I rolled down the window to her grinning face. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously.

  “Forget something?” I asked trying to sound bored. The truth was the kid made me laugh, a lot.

  Rachel’s faced softened, and she looked at me with a sad expression on her face. “I know when you were my age some guy screwed you over.” She started.

  “You know that how?” I asked, thinking UJ needed to keep his damn mouth shut.

  She smiled. “You told me Synclair, when you had your molars out. You were pretty drugged up, but you told me about your mom and the guy with the green dragon eyes who slept with you on a bet.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, mouth agape. I didn’t share things with people, and definitely not those things. However, I did recall having Rachel drive me home after the oral surgeon had yanked my molars. The other stuff… not so much. Trying to figure out where she was going with all of this, I just shrugged.

  “You can trust me Synclair, we’re friends you and I. The guy was a jerk and so not worth your time back then but…” She trailed off suddenly looking uncertain.

  “Spit it out Rachel.” I just needed her to get to her point. The kid was sharper than people gave her credit for and a helluva lot more observant.

  “Maybe you should try forgiving him or...uh...dating some nice guys.”

  “I date plenty Rachel.” I snorted

  For the first time since she had strayed into my bar, Rachel looked pissed off at me. “I’m not talking about the guys you FUCK in the backroom or your office.” She accused. “Yeah, I know about the one and dones you have, all meaningless, unemotional, screws that mean nothing to you.” She was breathing heavy when she finished.

  Damn, now I felt like crap. I was actually embarrassed. Before I could answer, she grabbed my hand and put something in it. She stared right at me, more serious than I had ever seen her. “You are worth so much more than you know, you are smart, funny and I know you have a big heart. You take care of me, of Uncle Jack and I know you help those women at the shelter. You’re like my big sister and I want to see you treat yourself better than you do, you deserve a happily ever after.” She reached her head inside the car and kissed my cheek and was gone.

  I glanced down in my palm and discovered she had put the panties I had failed to put back on this afternoon there. I laid my head back against the headrest. Damn, I groaned, and began the short drive home.

  *****************************************

  After a night of no sleep, I pulled up in front of the women’s shelter I volunteered at. I didn’t consider myself a giver by no means. But I knew that when my mother ran from one of my many “daddies,” she ran here. It was the one place I knew I could go when things got bad. As I walked through the door, I saw the kids huddling on the cots. They were probably new.

  I knew how it felt to be scared, to not know where you were going to sleep or eat next. I shook off the memory. I was just paying back my debt. This place had helped me when I had nothing. When my mom’s boyfriends would beat the crap out of her and she had nowhere to go, this shelter always took us in. I didn’t blame these women, I had been one. It’s easy to say “Just leave the guy”, but most people didn’t know the cycle of abuse, how it breaks you down and makes you doubt everything.

  I had seen women come through here and when confronted with the task of starting over, just couldn’t do it. It always made me sad when they went back to those assholes. But I always let them know they could come back here anytime, and I always hoped that next time they’d find the strength to break away for good.

  It had happened for one woman I had worked with. Her name was Constance. Her parents had literally sold her to her husband when she was 14. She didn’t read, she didn’t write. Her husband was some scumbag drug dealer from Columbia. I had never seen the guy but I am sure he was one of many dealers moving product here in Vegas. When Constance had called the shelter, she was too terrified to come in. I don’t even know how she got the number, it didn’t matter, though. I had picked her up on the seedy side of Fremont Street with her two-year-old boy. I couldn’t believe how messed up her face was. Her brown eyes were practically swollen shut and her tan skin was peppered with bruises. She was holding her son Felix’s hand with one hand and her side with the other. Her ribs would turn out to be merely bruised, but that was no consolation when I looked at the imprint of a shoe on them from where the bastard had kicked her. So I had done the ultimate no-no. I took a personal interest in her.

  Against, everything I was supposed to do, I made arrangements for her to start over in a small town in New Mexico. I got her a tutor to teach her how to read and write and I put $10,000 in a bank account under the false name I got for her. Passports and identification documents were about another ten grand and when I was done she was set up to start her new life.

  It was the one of the few occasions that my street connections came in handy. The only condition was I could never contact her again or vice versa, the burner phones I had used to talk to her were destroyed as soon as I was certain she was okay.

  Unfortunately, this little adventure left me just shy of $20,000 in my savings. I didn’t have a purpose for the money anyways. Other than saving it to someday buy the bar from UJ when he retired. The bar made a great profit and since I lived in the apartment above it, I had little to no expenses. I remembered how happy she was when I showed her their new home in New Mexico. She had hugged me and cried while she kept saying things in Spanish.

  Waving to everyone as I made my way to the desk. I sighed. Throwing my purse in the drawer, I attempted to clear my head. Every other Saturday I sat behind this desk. I answered calls, I directed abused, scared women how to get restraining orders, I counseled them on programs that we had. It was never enough, though, we could only do so much, and usually it just didn’t cut it. I knew it, and I knew they knew it too and that just sucked.

  Wondering when I had become such a damn bleeding heart, I missed the door opening to the shelter. Unless you knew the code, you had to be buzzed in. Mainly because we didn’t want angry spouses coming in and dragging out their wives and kids. In fact, you couldn’t find us unless you were told the address.

  The footsteps were what I noticed first. They were heavy and quick. Shit, I glanced up to see three men in expensive black suits and ties walking toward the desk. Pushing the button under the desk, I hoped the alarm gave the other volunteers time to get everyone locked in the rooms. The guy in the middle had a groomed beard but hard black eyes. His suit stretched across well-defined arms. Okay, so suit guy worked
out. He was good-looking but not my type. He was either a Fed or a freaking thug, both were not appealing. When he smiled, I knew he looked familiar. Shit, Constance’s son Felix had the same dimpled grin. However on him, the white teeth and full lips looked predatory, not adorable. This was bad, this was really bad. I pressed the silent alarm that would alert metro and hoped they got here before it got ugly.

  “Gentleman.” I addressed them never taking my eyes of the guy in the middle. The bald guy on the left snorted at my greeting and the guy on the right with the fat, pudgy face and beady eyes unbuttoned his expensive suit at the waist revealing a shoulder holster and gun. So it was going to be like that was it? I had my own gun. A Glock nine, but it was locked in the cabinet with my purse. Fuck.

  “Synclair Patrick.” Shit, he knew my name. I smiled sweetly rising from the chair.

  “I guess you have me at a disadvantage, I don’t know your name.” I kept my voice level. I needed to buy time till Metro got here, I needed to keep them talking and away from the women and children, who I knew were cowering behind the locked doors.

  “Luis Reynaldo Pedrocho Escobar.” He grasped my hand and kissed my knuckles. I pulled my hand back slowly trying to avoid gagging. “These are my associates, Raul,” he said pointing to the guy on his left “and Pablo,” gesturing to beady eyes on his right.

  Associates? More like thugs, I almost snorted. Okay now was not the time to act off the cuff, I had to keep my temper in check.

  “Mr. Escobar, I take it you and your men are lost, I’m certain I can give you directions back to the strip.” I offered, knowing full well he was precisely where he wanted to be.

  He raised one arrogant eyebrow at me and smirked. Again with the smile, I felt like I was being sized up for dinner.

  “Actually Synclair Patrick it’s you I wished to talk to.” He stepped closer, and I instinctively took a step backward.