Nine: A pINK Novel (A pINK Series Book 1)

by K. S. Thomas

  “I want to go with you,” she says for the millionth time. Only this once, she’s not demanding, or announcing, or threatening, she’s begging. Pleading. It still doesn’t change my answer.

  “No. You’re going to hang with Sketch, just like we talked about.” I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and trying to focus on every last detail between us. The way she feels to my touch, how she leans into it, gives back to it. Her scent. Her sweet, delicious scent. The same candied mix of violet and pomegranate I’ve been getting high off since middle school. Only now, I’m allowed. Allowed to inhale her. Devour her. Keep her.

  “I hate how you think you can boss me around like that,” she whispers.

  “Kind of blows me away that you let me.” I can’t help it. My mouth twitches at the corners in amusement.

  She shrugs gently. “Guess I must trust you an awful lot.”

  And as soft as the delivery comes, the words hit harder than anything. The only person Liv has ever had faith in to do right by her under any and all circumstances, was her father. Maybe Sketch. All because her mother taught her that no one, no matter how much they’re meant to love you, can be counted on. But she’s counting on me. She has faith in me. I’m not going to let her down.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Heartbreaker

  “Stop pacing, you’re making me crazy just watching you,” Sketch snaps at me.

  “Excuse me for freaking out!” I don’t remember the last time we lashed out at one another like this. I can’t stand the way it feels.

  “No!” She gets in my face, physically stopping me from putting one foot in front of the other. “I get it. You love Lucas. And you’re scared. But you’re not the only one with someone to lose. Memphis is important to me too.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “No, it’s not. You have one person in the game. I have two. I lose Memphis and I don’t just wind up short another piece of my heart, I lose the last thing I have connecting me to my sister. The last person on earth who knew her like I knew her, who keeps her in my world by being in it himself.”

  I slump down into the sofa behind me, defeated and feeling like shit. “I suck. I’m sorry.”

  “We all suck. We’d have to, to wind up in this mess. Non-sucky people don’t have shit like this happen to them.” She drops back onto the recliner, a crumpled up pile of pathetic just like me.

  “You guys sure know how to keep positive when things are bleak and dreary. Holy shit,” Mouth mutters passing us by to head toward the bedroom. She’s been taking care of Marcus around the clock. Improv medicine must be genetic because she’s got this nurse business down pat. She doesn’t even seem pissed off about it.

  “I should call Madi.”

  “You should definitely not call Madi.”

  “I haven’t talked to her in days. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

  Sketch rolls her eyes at me and somehow her level of annoyance helps. She doesn’t even have to say anything.

  “You’re right. She’s fine. Pru would have called if she wasn’t. Reaching out unless it’s an absolute emergency is not a good idea.” I nod, confirming all of this for myself once more.

  Princess stretches her legs out beside me. I almost forgot she was even here. She’s been curled up under an afghan in the corner of the couch for hours. I thought she was sleeping, but now I think maybe she was just pretending so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. She’s tough. I know she’s tough because she’s survived some shit that would have killed others, but this stuff, this violence, the threats and the power struggles, it picks at her old scars like they’re brand new scabs still healing. So while we’re fighting the war in the present, she’s under attack from the ghosts of her past. None of us can protect her from those.

  “Hey.”

  Her face turns to meet mine, but she doesn’t answer.

  “You want some tea or something?”

  Sketch snorts. “Tea?”

  “Is that not what people drink in a crisis?”

  “You’re thinking of Tequila.”

  Finally, Princess breaks into a small smile. “Coffee. We all drink coffee in a crisis. That’s why they both start with a c. Coffee. Crisis. They match, see?”

  “Then I suppose someone better make some.” I peel myself out of the cushions and get back to my feet. I try my best to ignore the clock when I pass it, but it’s impossible. It’s nearly one in the morning. Five hours. Five hours and no news. No news is good news. Unless everyone is dead and can’t call, In which case, no news is a fucking nightmare.

  But I trudge on for the kitchen. I don’t say my thoughts out loud. No one needs to hear them. We’re all thinking them anyway.

  I pour the water into the coffee maker. Fill the filter unreasonably high with coffee grounds. Fuck it. Nobody here is ever sleeping again anyway.

  Then it happens. I feel the vibration on my thigh one iota of a second before I hear the ring. I scramble for my phone so fast I nearly drop it getting it out of my pocket. Princess, Sketch and Mouth all pile into the kitchen at the same time.

  “Hello?” I didn’t even think to check the caller ID. For all I know, Dallas is drunk and calling to tell me he fucked up his new ink by going to the beach again.

  “We’re okay.” Lucas. Thank God. Tears pool my eyes the moment I hear his voice. “I’m at the hospital. Memphis is in bad shape.” He sounds worried, but it’s nothing compared to the expression on Sketch’s face. She hasn’t even heard the conversation, but she knows. She knows something. I have to tell her more.

  “What happened?”

  “Everything went according to plan. We kept moving through. Memphis and I wound up pitted against each other and we put on a good show, then he tapped out. I went up against the champion. He’s done. The whole thing is done, Liv.” He sighs loudly, but it’s not out of relief. “Rediger is out. Saw him being walked out by a couple of suits who meant business.”

  “But what happened to Memphis?” I bite my tongue as soon as I say his name. Panic just flared in Sketch’s eyes like I’ve never seen there before.

  “We were packing up when some guy got a little too handsy with one of the cocktail waitresses they brought in for the big event. Memphis told him to back off. Shit got crazy after that. Five guys jumped him before I could even get there. We fought our way out, but not before Memphis took a beating.”

  “And now?” I reach out to take Sketch’s hand and for once, she lets me.

  “He’s in surgery. Won’t know anything for a couple of hours.” He pauses to take another long breath and I can hear the subtle sounds of the hospital waiting room in the background. “Stay away from the shop. It’s still crawling with bad news, but don’t worry, even if the cops get called at this point, the fight club itself wasn’t illegal and there won’t be much else in the way of evidence left behind by now. Just, come here. All of you.”

  I hang up. I should have told him a million other things. Should have said I love you at the very least, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t allow myself to say it, to show the gratitude I feel for his wellbeing when Memphis is still in jeopardy.

  “Memphis is in surgery, and it wasn’t even from the fighting. He got in some asshole’s face for manhandling a girl working the event and got jumped for it. Lucas seems to think he’ll pull through, but it’s serious. We need to get to the hospital.”

  “God, that idiot,” Sketch snarls, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she sniffs loudly. “Why does he always have to be such a fucking gentleman?”

  “Someone has to offset all the assholes out there.” Princess makes a ballsy move and hugs her. “I’m just glad we’ve got two knights in our midst now.”

  “Yeah. Two knights and one dud.” Mouth tips her head in the direction of her room. “Think it’s safe to leave him?”

  “You’re the medical personnel around here,” I remind her. “If you say he’s good, I’m good.”

  “He’s good. Let’s go.” And she spea
rheads our little formation straight out of the apartment.

  Lucas

  I don’t know which is worse; the call I had to make to let Juli know about Memphis, or sitting here now, watching her from the hallway while she cries silent tears and holds onto his limp hand with all her might. He came through the surgery alright. I knew he would. No, I hoped he would. Depended on it, actually. And he did. He pulled through. Still looks like total shit though. His face is smashed in pretty good and he’s got enough bandages wrapped around his limbs to make a solid mummy costume come Halloween. I can see why Juli’s in the shape she’s in. Doesn’t help any she had no idea what we were up to, and still doesn’t understand.

  But I do. I finally get it. This thing between them, it’s legit. Annoying as I may find her a lot of the time, she cares about him, a lot. More than I would have pegged her capable of. And she’s stronger too. She could have shown up here, wailing and causing a scene, but she didn’t. Hasn’t made a sound since she got here, outside of polite small talk with the nurses. She’s not speaking to me, not that I blame her. I’m not my favorite person right now either, but she backed me up when she arrived, no questions asked, no hesitation.

  It was Memphis’s idea. Rambled it off to me on the ride over while he was still in and out of consciousness. Wanted me to tell the hospital he was trampled by a bull, that he was messing around after dark and wound up in a bad situation. I don’t know shit about riding bulls, but I went with it. Wasn’t hard to tell no one was going for it. Then Juli showed, confirmed my story. No flinching. Just total conviction as she stared the cop square in the eyes and laid out the scene for him. She made a far more credible witness than I did. Even had a reasonable account of how I wound up with a black eye and busted lip in the whole ordeal. After she was done, no one questioned anything. And Juli, she just turned away and marched straight for his room.

  The sound of high heels and combat boots coming down the hall catches my attention and I lift my head to search for them. Liv doesn’t say any real words for a long time, just keeps running her hands all over my body, checking to make sure everything is still attached, my heart is still beating, my lungs still doing their thing. She gets hung up repeatedly in the places that are bleeding and bruised, but I continue to assure her that I’m alright. It takes time, but she believes me eventually.

  “Rediger’s gone?” she whispers.

  “Yeah.”

  “And Memphis is going to be okay?”

  We both stare across the wide hall into his room. Juli’s still inside. Sketch is hovering in the doorway. Hasn’t moved since she got here.

  “Yeah. Memphis is going to be fine, at least until he gets better. After Juli and Sketch have their turn with him, I don’t know.” I crack a small smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. We’re not out of the woods yet, but we’re alive and that needs to count for something. Needs to be enough right now. Even if it doesn’t feel like it just yet.

  “Here.” Mouth shows up in front of us, hands stretched out, each holding a cup of coffee. Princess is heading for Sketch with a coffee delivery for her as well.

  “Thanks.” Liv takes the paper cup and I follow suit. I’m too tired, too drained to put much thought into anything anymore. I’ll just match her movements for the time being. Coffee is probably a good idea.

  “Well, this will definitely make for a good story at the shop for months to come,” Mouth remarks dryly, taking her seat beside us.

  “You mean the time our shop was attacked by the mob and we all almost came within an inch of our lives trying to take down their illegal fight club? Yeah. Great conversation piece.” Liv sounds incredulous.

  “Oh, no. I meant the time you turned cougar and hooked up with a guy nearly ten years your junior, but whatever. I’m flexible. If you think the mob story will get more traction.”

  Liv actually laughs. Loudly, the vibration of it hums in my chest as I pull her closer, and it’s the best damn feeling. It’s almost enough to make me believe we’ve made it to the other side of this mess. Waking up. That’s what this feels like. Waking up.

  We stay camped out in the sterile, cold waiting room for hours. Not until after Memphis swears at all of us for being drama queens do we walk out of the hospital and back to reality. All night while we were holed up in here, cut off from the world and any sense of night or daylight, it felt like time stood still. Now, with the high noon sun shining straight in my eyes, it seems to be racing by.

  My phone’s been dead for hours. As soon as I plug it in inside the truck, the screen screams at me with a long list of messages, text and voicemail alike. My sisters. Madi. Even my mother texted me. The calls are all from my father; every message, short and clipped and lacking in every emotion except one. Anger.

  “What’s wrong?” Concern shadows her beautiful face. It’s too soon. We needed more time. More rest. More deep breaths. More laughs.

  “My dad.”

  “Do you think he knows?” It’s a loaded question. Any number of things I’ve been keeping from him could be the reason he’s pissed off, and I’m thinking he definitely caught wind of one of them. If not more.

  “Yeah.” I hit call and wait. One ring and he answers.

  “It’s about damn time,” he snarls into my ear. “I don’t know where the hell you are, or what the hell you had to do with that disaster in Olivia’s old warehouse, but I know for damn sure you were there.”

  “How?” That’s the only fucking thing that matters right now.

  “After thirty years in politics, nothing happens in this town that I’m not privy to! For Christ’s sake, some lowlife could sneeze under the overpass and I’d be told about it. You really think my only son can walk into an illegal fight club and I won’t have at least five different sources telling me about it within seconds?! Think, Lucas! You’re a McNealy. People know you, and those who don’t sure as hell know of you. You can’t keep secrets. Not here. Not from me.”

  “So what now, huh? Is the place under investigation? Are we all under arrest? What?!” I turn away from Liv. I can’t believe I let this happen. Can’t believe that after everything I did to protect her from her own blood, it could wind up being my family that tears her life to pieces.

  “Now, you’ll do what you should have done from the start. You’ll listen to me.” His previous roars of self-righteousness have dimmed down to arrogant sneers. It’s all the same to me though. He’s the all-powerful Oz and I am merely the scarecrow in search of a brain. At least, that’s what I used to believe. I know better now.

  “I’ll hear you out, Dad, but whether or not I listen depends entirely on the content of your words.”

  I hear an indignant huff over the phone, but it only sways him briefly. Then he’s back to his usual cold and demeaning tone. “Your lack of respect for this family never ceases to amaze me. Maybe you don’t mind screwing around with your own life, but you sure as shit won’t be screwing around with mine. Stay away from the club. Stay away from that seedy tattoo parlor. I’d tell you to stay away from that trashy woman as well, but I don’t enjoy wasting my time. Don’t ask questions. Don’t talk to anyone. This is bigger than you could possibly imagine and it’s being cleaned up as we speak. Keep your damn head down and you won’t get swept away with it.”

  Then the line goes dead. That’s it. My father just saved my ass. Saved Olivia. Maybe if I didn’t know he’d been forced into it by sheer survival instinct and a drive to save his own good name, I could decide between feeling grateful and remembering what it means to be the world’s most disappointing son. The emotions drag me in opposite directions, ripping me apart internally until a soft hand slides over my arm and I remember I’m not alone. Not everyone thinks every decision I make is wrong.

  I twine my fingers with hers, squeezing gently. “It’s over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Heartbreaker

  Exhausted from the longest day of my entire fucking life, I practically fall in through my front door, stumbling sloppily and ne
arly crashing to the floor, were it not for Lucas who continually insists on catching me.

  “Thanks,” I mumble sheepishly. That time really did seem unnecessary. “You could have let my dumb ass drop, you know? Every now and again, I deserve to trip and land on my ass. It’s humbling.”

  “Forget it.” He wraps me up in a gigantic bear hug, nuzzling the side of my head and moving down until his face is buried in the crook of my neck, not to mention, a fluffy wave of my curly hair. “There will be no landing on your ass on my watch,” he murmurs tenderly and all initial intention of making a joke gets lost in the delivery.

  “You need sleep.”

  “I need you.”

  “You have me.” Together we start our tumultuous walk down the endless hall to my room, both of us dragging our feet and barely keeping our eyes open to see where we’re going, all while holding onto one another in a way that is more risk than caution, but neither of us cares because we’re in it together.

  Taking turns undressing each other in slow motion, dropping whatever we take off the other haphazardly around my room, I can feel myself begin to perk up at the site of Lucas getting increasingly more naked. I’m about to act on this pleasant burst of energy when I hear my phone ring from some unknown location in my bedroom.

  “Where is that coming from?” Lucas turns around, searching the floor for the source of the noise.

  “My pants.” No sooner have I said the words than I spot the worn and ripped pair of skinny jeans I was wearing up until two minutes ago. Now they’re dangling precariously from the back of a chair near the door.

  I make a halfhearted attempt to grasp for the phone, but being as I’m no longer motivated by Lucas’s naked body, I’m not remotely close to reaching it, nor am I putting forth much effort to rectify said problem.

  I’m still waving my hand around in midair pretending to attempt to reach my phone when the ringing stops again.