Anyway, her response was not the typical behavior of a widow. Come to think of it, neither she nor Ryder seem devastated by Junior’s death and I can’t help but wonder why. It’s another reason I decided to make nice with Mac. What’s that old saying…you kill more bees with honey than you do with vinegar? If I quit acting like a dick, maybe she’ll be more inclined to share information with me. Like why she hasn’t shed a tear for the man she chose over me or help me understand why Ryder is awkward around me. At first, I chalked up his behavior to me being a stranger but I’m starting to realize the kid has lived a bit of a sheltered life. Forget the Gatorade thing. After the truck broke down, I took him into the bushes to pee and he looked at me like I was instructing him on how to kill a puppy.
Maybe the exhaustion is turning me soft but, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable around me. If there is something he doesn’t know, something I can help him with, well, then, I want to teach him. Not because he’s Mac’s son or my nephew but because I was once the kid who lost his father and while I had more time with mine, I still felt cheated.
Turning off the water, I reach for a towel and tie it around my waist before stepping out of the shower. As I dry off, I remind myself that none of this is my fault or my problem and yet, still there is a part of me that wants to help the kid out. I mean, it wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world if I took him under my wing while he and his mother hid out in Brooklyn. I could help him tackle his shyness and maybe teach him a few of the things my old man taught me. The type of things that stick with a five-year-old, things he’ll take with him throughout his life. Things like how to throw a ball and the cardinal rule of always holding a door for a woman.
Little shit like that.
Yeah, twenty-four hours with Mac and Ryder and I was turning into a pussy.
Unzipping my duffel bag, I pull out the last clean outfit and start to dress when I hear my phone ring. Digging through the dirty pile of clothes, I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of the discarded jeans. Starring at the screen, I’m reminded of the call I placed to Jack earlier. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I lift the phone to my ear and try to decide how the fuck I’m going to spring the debauchery on him.
“Parrish,” I greet, cringing slightly as I brush my fingers through my wet hair.
“Hey brother,” he says in that thick New York accent of his. “Returning your call. How're things in the sticks?”
“I’m on my way home,” I reply. “Ran into a complication and need to stay over in a motel but, I should arrive around noon tomorrow,” I continue, balancing the phone with my shoulder as I button my jeans.
“That was quick. I figured you would’ve been gone at least a week. I’m guessing that means everything checked out.”
“Not exactly,” I sigh, bending down to shove the dirty clothes in the duffel bag. “I can’t get into it over the phone but I’m not coming home alone.” Jack goes silent, causing me to pull the phone from my ear and check if I lost the call. “It’s sensitive,” I add. “If you get my drift.”
“I’ll call church,” he says automatically. I wonder how it’ll work now that the beloved table has been destroyed. Considering Jack Parrish prefers a meat mallet over the traditional wooden gavel every other charter opts to use, I’m sure the table has been replaced by something equally ridiculous.
“That would be wise,” I agree. Scratching my beard as I peer at my reflection in the mirror and try to remember the last time I took a razor to my face.
“It’ll have to be after dinner though,” Jack adds. “Seeing as the club has been somewhat divided after the thing with Yankovich, Reina is insisting on dinner at the house. The woman thinks her lasagna can heal a rift spanning nearly three decades and I don’t got the head or the heart to argue with her.”
“Did you not hear me? I’m not coming home alone.”
“Well, unless you made a pit stop in North Korea and picked up the rocket man, whoever it is you have with you is welcome in my house.”
“It’s complicated, Jack,” I say, gritting my teeth. The last thing I need is for any of my brothers to get the wrong idea about Mac and me.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
I’m going to have to claim her and Ryder as mine if I intend on asking for the clubs’ protection. No one gets a free pass and I can’t expect them to offer their help on a dime, especially when I’m asking them to take on an enemy that isn’t theirs.
The sobering thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth and the tension I tried to suppress in the shower, rolls through me once again. Shaking it off, I breathe out a heavy sigh.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Anything on your end I should know about?”
“Riggs and Lauren had the baby. Another boy. They named him Anthony. Everything else we’ll discuss at church.”
“The guy is going to have his own little league team soon.”
“I think that’s the plan.”
“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
We say our goodbyes before ending the call. Tomorrow will be a test of my patience. Not only will I have to introduce Mac and Ryder to the club, but I will also have to explain our sorted past. On top of that, I’m going to have to figure out a living arrangement. My apartment is barely equipped to take care of a bachelor let alone a ready-made family.
A knock sounds on the door, pulling me away from my head. Taking a quick sweep around the bathroom, I straighten it out before opening the door. Lifting an oversized brown bag full of food, the smile falls from her lips as she glances down at my bare chest. I cross my arms and cock my head to the side as she gawks at me.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I tease, reaching for the bag. Brushing past her, I leave her in the doorway of the bathroom and head towards the little table. “Come on, Ryder, let’s see what we got here.”
“It’s Chinese food. Mommy said it’s your favorite. Is that true?”
My gaze slices across the room, towards Mac who is still standing by the bathroom.
“Yeah, it is,” I reply, keeping my eyes on her. “You going to join us or do you plan on standing there while we stuff our faces?”
“You said to take a picture,” she says, distractedly.
“Yeah, you were gawking at my chest,” I remind her as I unpack the takeout.
Shaking her head, she waves a hand dismissively.
“Do you know where my camera is?” she questions, moving to the bed. I watch as she lifts her bag onto the mattress. “It was one of the few things I asked Mooney to pack for me and I didn’t think to check before now.”
“The camera I got you?” Regretting the question, the moment I ask it, I turn back to the food. I’m an idiot for thinking she would still have the camera I bought her over ten years ago.
“Yes,” she says, pulling things out of her bag.
Surprised, I lift my head and watch her shoulders slump with relief as she pulls it from beneath a pile of clothes.
“You bought that for my mom?” Ryder asks curiously.
Not taking my eyes off his mother, I answer.
“A long time ago,” I rasp as she glances over her shoulder at me. “She’s probably due for a new one.”
“No,” she answers. “It’s still as perfect as it was when I first took it out of the box,” she adds, tinkering with the lens. I watch her face disappear behind the viewfinder of the camera. “Ryder, get closer to Bas.”
“Mac,” I warn. “Don’t start taking pictures of me.”
Lifting her eyes over the top of the camera, she curls her lip.
“I want to make sure it didn’t get damaged,” she argues. “I didn’t know it was on the bottom of the bag and I slammed it on the ground when we were getting our stuff from the truck.”
She’s full of shit.
“Smile,” she calls in a sing-song voice.
Being the fuck, I am, I don’t smile. Ryder, however, leans into me and grins widely back at his mom. It’s the first time I’ve seen him take
his rightful place in the world as a carefree kid and look genuinely happy.
“You should smile more,” I tell him, reaching out to tousle his hair.
Looking up at me, his smile widens, and I feel my lips involuntarily quirk.
Click. Click. Click.
“It works,” Mac declares, flashing a devastatingly beautiful smile of her own.
They say a smile is a light inside the window of a person’s soul. Until now, I never knew what that meant. Seeing her smile like that, so candid and real, it made me realize there is still a piece of the girl I used to know. She’s just been lost for a long time.
“Crisis averted,” I mutter sarcastically as awareness washes over me.
Mac’s camera was safe, but my sanity wasn’t because suddenly, I feel struck by the overwhelming need to make them both smile a lot more.
Talk about a fucking crisis.
Chapter Eleven
I forgot how much Bas could eat. Normally, people get full rather quickly on Chinese food. The MSG gives you a false sense of fullness and before you know it your face falls into a dish of Lo Mein and you nap for a good hour or so, only to wake up starving. Bas is the exception. I swear I don’t know how he eats like he’s going to the chair and still manages to keep that body of his. If I ate a quarter of what he ate in one sitting, I’d have to run a marathon and drink six gallons of water to prevent it all from going straight to my ass.
I wasn’t the only one marveling over Bas’ appetite. Ryder asked if we could enter him in the La Grange hot dog eating contest when we get back to Kentucky. While I stressed over explaining to Ryder that Bas wouldn’t be returning to Kentucky with us, Bas took the liberty of answering my son, informing him that there was a hot dog eating contest in Brooklyn too, one that blew La Grange’s away. He told him it took place at Nathan’s of Coney Island on the fourth of July every year. When Ryder asked what Coney Island was, Bas explained that it was a place in Brooklyn and home to one of the most famous roller coasters, the Cyclone. I picked at my food as they easily conversed and made plans to visit Luna Park. Bas didn’t commit to entering the contest, but he promised to take him on all the rides…even the ‘really scary’ ones, as Ryder liked to call them.
After we finished eating, I cleared the takeout containers from the table while Bas, who still hadn’t put a shirt on, taught Ryder how to play with the paddleball. At times, Ryder was so enthralled by Bas that he not only forgot I was in the room, but he also forgot his insecurities. The shyness he wore like a badge of honor, faded some and seeing my boy smile made my heart incredibly full.
I felt guilty when it was time for bed and let him stay up a little longer than usual. When Ryder started to yawn, I took it as my cue to call it a night. To my surprise, he didn’t argue. Once he showered and changed into his pajamas, I tucked him into the bed he and I were sharing. Ryder couldn’t fall asleep with the lights on and Bas decided he would go for a smoke. Finally, the man put a shirt on before giving my son a pound and heading out the door.
Now Ryder was fast asleep, and I want nothing more than a hot shower myself. However, I don’t want Ryder to wake up in a strange place and not see anyone in the room with him either. Wondering if Bas would mind watching over him, I make my way outside and spot Bas leaning against the wall, cigarette poised between his lips. Sensing me, he turns his head a fraction and lazily stares at me.
“He asleep?”
“Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms under my chest as I close the distance between us. “Do you have an extra one?” I ask jutting my chin to the flickering tip of his cigarette. Dropping the foot, he was resting on the wall, he straightens to his full height and reaches into his back pocket for his smokes.
“I haven’t smoked in years,” he says, handing me the pack.
I pull a cigarette out as he reaches for his lighter, flicking it until a flame appears. Pushing the filter between my lips, I lean forward as he lights the end. I take the first long drag and watch him pocket the cigarettes and the lighter.
“Why now?”
He shrugs his shoulders, taking the last pull before flicking the butt into the street.
“I have no fucking idea,” he admits, meeting my gaze. “You should quit,” he says as his eyes linger on the cigarette in my hand. “That shit will put you in an early grave and that boy in there needs his mom.”
“Way to make a girl feel guilty,” I mutter, flicking the ashes. The nicotine suddenly loses its luster as Bas’ words sink in.
“Just stating facts,” he retorts.
I nod, letting the cigarette fall from between my fingers.
“You’re right,” I say, grinding it into the ground with the toe of my sneaker. “It’s a disgusting habit,” I add, shoving my hands into the back pockets of my shorts. “You want to know the truth, I actually hate the smell of it on my hands.”
“Then why do you do it?”
I shrug.
“Why do we do anything that’s bad for us?” I reply, truly pondering the answer for a moment. Since I don’t have a valid reason, I draw in a deep breath before changing the subject. “So, you’ve been out here for a while now. You hiding out from me and Ryder?”
“No,” he replies evenly.
I should know better than to hope he’ll elaborate on his answer yet I continue to stare at him waiting for him to throw me a bone. Instead, he juts his chin to the parking lot.
“They’ve been going at it for twenty minutes,” he mutters. Following his gaze, I spot the couple kissing and groping one another near his bike.
“I guess this is the type of establishment where they rent rooms by the hour,” I say noncommittally as I continue to gawk at the couple. The guy dips his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Oh,” I whisper as she lets outs a breathy moan. “Looks like he hit the spot.”
“Please,” Bas grunts. “That bitch is going for an academy award or something.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, peeling my eyes off the couple.
“Trust me,” he replies, pushing off the wall. “Damn,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Shows over,” he says as the couple stumbles past us. Simultaneously, we twist our necks to watch them make their way to the room next to ours. As the guy works on retrieving the keycard, the woman claws at his shirt.
“What did you say your name was?” she asks.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, kicking open the door.
The wannabe porn stars disappear into the room, leaving me and Bas staring at one another.
“Looks like it’s just getting started,” I laugh, meeting his gaze. His eyes narrow and his jaw ticks as he drinks me in. The intensity of his stare becomes too much to handle, and I force myself to look away, knowing if I don’t I’m going to make a fool out of myself. “I’m going to take a shower,” I add hoarsely.
“You need a hand? Someone, to wash your hair?” There is a playful undertone to his deep voice, making me aware that he’s taunting me. Well, I’m not about to give him the reaction he’s looking for. Instead, I cock my head to the side and lift an eyebrow, calling his bluff.
“Careful, Bas, that’s the second time you’ve made an inappropriate comment. Keep it up and I might start to believe you don’t hate me as much as you let on that you do.”
“That so?” he volleys, taking a step closer. “Refresh my memory, what was the first comment?”
Putting my hands on my hips, I square my shoulders back as he invades my personal space.
“Earlier, when I asked you what to order for dinner.”
“Don’t remember being inappropriate,” he retorts, his eyes falling to my lips.
“Bullshit,” I call. I mean for it to come out in an aggressive manner but it’s barely a whisper. Swallowing, I take a step back and comb my fingers through my hair. “I’m going to shower. I came out here to ask if you wouldn’t mind sitting with Ryder. I don’t want him to freak out if he wakes up and doesn’t see me.”
�
�Damn,” he retorts, rolling his neck. “Here I thought we were going to give ‘Debbie Does Dallas’ and her partner a run for their money…” he teases, jutting his thumb over his shoulder, towards the room next door.
“Funny,” I croak.
“I thought so,” he says, tipping his chin. “Go take your shower, Mac.”
Nodding, I turn and start for our room. Reaching the door, I pause and glance over my shoulder. Standing right behind me, his eyes darken as he lifts an eyebrow.
“What?”
“We’re going to talk when I’m done, right?”
“Five questions, Mac,” he warns. “That’s all you get.”
Feeling somewhat brazen, I challenge him and for the first time in years, I’m reminded of who I used to be. The girl before the scars. The girl Junior stole, wrecked and ruined. The girl who loved the man staring at her right now.
“What do you get?”
“Now, who’s taunting who?” he questions, leaning closer. Splaying one hand on the door above my head, I hold my breath as he reaches around my body and twists the doorknob. His cologne mixed with the scent of nicotine wafts past my nose, sending my whole being into sensory overload. “Shower,” he grunts. “Now.”
“Right,” I whisper. He pulls back, stepping further away as he runs his hands over his face and waits for me to enter the room. Hastily, I turn around and hurry inside, collecting my bag before making my way to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and lean against it.
“What am I doing?” I ask myself aloud, gathering this must be what a mental breakdown feels like.
Five days ago, I was living in misery, with only my son to brighten my days. Junior was still alive, and Bas was nothing but a memory. Now, Junior is gone, and the only reason Bas is here with me is that Ryder and I are in danger. Actually, that’s putting it mildly. There are people looking to kill us and instead of being scared shitless, I’m fighting my attraction for Bas. A man who I’m almost positive would never touch me again. Sure, he’s looked at me suggestively and one might even call our banter flirtatious, but Bas wouldn’t even hate fuck me. To him, I’m damaged goods. A secondhand toy his brother broke.
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