Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You (Surviving Absolution Book 2)

by Nikki Belaire

  Limos and huge SUVs fill the funeral home parking lot. Like the rogue version of the secret service, men in black suits and sunglasses mill around. Heads whip in her direction after she climbs out of her vehicle. A pop star in a long gown and high heels is not the usual guest at a mob funeral.

  The door opens to a car parked by the side entrance, and Juan steps out, flanked by four men. Her legs like lead, she can’t move. Please don’t look over. Please don’t see me.

  Almost as if he senses the fear pulsing in her chest, he slowly turns in her direction, and their eyes lock. A shudder shakes her body at his flash of recognition and slow smile. Stopping Nick her only goal, she runs toward the canopy-covered front door. The squeal of tires is the last thing she hears before her head slams against the asphalt.

  Chapter Eight

  Shae squeezes her eyes tighter, trying to shut out the harsh light burning behind them. The pounding in her head overpowers her attempt to turn away. Or figure out why everything hurts.

  A blurry face looms over her, blocking the brightness. Sharp pain explodes in her chest as she coughs from the bitterness filling her nose. Musky cologne assaults her before he does, his rough hands clenching her chin. “You disappoint me, Miss Armstrong. Between you and Carter, I was certain you’d be the one to keep your promise. Now, I’m going to take care of Nick myself, and you’re going to—”

  The pressure on her jaw releases as a familiar voice calls her name from far away.

  “Over there!” Fear intertwines with fury as the man screams over her head. “Fucking stop him!”

  A sharp gasp wheezes above her before he collapses against her stomach, stealing her breath. She pushes against his motionless body, her fingertips sliding over the warm, sticky ooze covering the smooth fabric of his coat.

  Her body shakes from the roar rumbling beneath her. Heat scorches her arms and legs. With burning lungs, she gasps for air after the weight suffocating her is pushed away.

  Fruity breath tickles her ear. “Oh, sweetness. I was so mad at you for ruining my plans, but this is even better. I guess it was your turn to surprise me.”

  His fingers dig into her shoulder and thigh, and she flinches before gliding through the air. Tense voices ebb and flow around them. Her head jerks backward from something yanking her hair. A door slams. The zipper on his jacket scratches her arm until everything is quiet, and her skin touches something soft.

  The throbbing of her head can’t keep pace with the racing of her pulse. Not her home. Not her bed. Her scream doesn’t make it past her lips before everything goes black.

  * * * *

  She floats in darkness, a hazy cloud free of pain and noise. Yet, a hint of dread creeps up her spine. Memories hover in the fuzziness, just out of reach. There’s something she needs to know. Something she must remember. But she’s too tired to figure out what it is.

  Muffled voices interrupt her peace. Why are they underwater? She shivers from the coldness, her damp dress clinging to her body. The dull ache in her chest and head grows stronger the louder the voices talk. Please stop yelling. Please go back to the blackness. There’s no fear there.

  “…where’s my father…?”

  “… hurt in the explosion…”

  “…who is she…?”

  Snippets of conversation spin around her. She can’t make out all of the words, yet the hesitation and fear in the woman’s tone reflects her own growing panic. If only she could force her eyes open and push through the fog.

  “Look and see.”

  Her stomach aches from his throaty laugh. A joyless sound she knows doesn’t inspire happiness, but she can’t remember why. Lavender wafts over her as soft, silky fingers brush against her cheek before sweeping the hair off her face.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit! Fucking Nick DeMarco’s girlfriend…”

  Nick! He’s the one she’s been searching for. She needs to find him. Tell him she wants to be with him. Tell him not to let revenge steal him away from her. Why isn’t he here?

  “…is covered in blood and lying in Juan’s bed.”

  “Calm down. It’s Juan’s blood. Nick shot him.”

  Juan’s finally gone. Not in jail or out of the country. Dead. Nick killed him to save her. Everything always for her. Why isn’t he here?

  “What the hell happened to her? Why is she unconscious?”

  “She tried to run away, but I stopped her.”

  “You’re a fucking dead man when he gets a hold of you.”

  Nick will be upset, but she can talk to him. Calm him down once she finds him. Why isn’t he here?

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Then, you’re even stupider than I thought.”

  A loud clap explodes near her feet. Heavy breathing and angry voices swirl around her.

  “You’re going to regret that when my father finds out.”

  “Enrique’s dead.”

  “No, that’s a lie.” Fury shifts to sorrow as the woman’s voice cracks on the last word.

  “One hundred percent completely true. The whole place went up in flames, taking everyone with it, including Nick and your father. So, now I’m in charge, and you answer to me.”

  Her head bobbles like a balloon, yet feels as heavy as a brick when she tries to lift up and open her eyes. The dryness in her mouth stifles the words she tries to cry out. Trapped by the frailty of her own body, she can only listen as her world disintegrates from their argument.

  “Fuck you. I don’t answer to anyone.”

  Mirthless laughter accompanies the hardness in his tone. “We’ll see.”

  “Forget this. I’m leaving, and I’m taking her with me. Get one of the guys up here to help me.”

  “Sorry, but that’s not happening. Nick’s dead, and she’s with me now.”

  Her eyes burn, and tears sting her cheeks. That’s why he’s not here. She lets herself succumb to the darkness pulling her under.

  * * * *

  Fingertips tickle her arm. Lavender permeates the air again as a soft voice tugs her back to the present, back to the ambiguity and the man imprisoning her. “Hey. Can you open your eyes? I need to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been like this for too long.”

  She blinks, trying to clear the wavy lines dancing in front of her eyes. Through the blurriness, a dark haired woman frowns at her, deep brown eyes full of worry.

  “That’s better. Dumb question, I know, but how are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts.” Shae reaches up to rub the aching spot, and her hand tangles in the sticky crust covering her hair.

  The woman frees her fingers and lays her arm back on the bed. “Yeah, getting hit by a car will do that to you.” The woman glances at Shae’s ruined dress. “If you’d like, I can help you take a shower.”

  She almost whimpers at the thought of being clean, ridding herself of Juan’s blood and the shame she feels over her relief he’s dead. Yet, no amount of scrubbing can wash away the fear inundating her heart. Max was racing to save Nick too. Unable to face losing both of them, she forces herself to be numb to keep from going crazy. From going out of her mind that her greatest worry might be true. All she can manage is focusing on the woman in front of her. “Yes, please.”

  “Let’s take this slow. We’ll get you sitting up first.” Her hands slide under Shae’s arms and pull her up before propping a few pillows behind her back.

  The bed spins up to meet her as queasiness rolls through her stomach. She takes deep breaths, trying to quell the flames running up her chest into her throat.

  “Shit! You’re as white as a ghost. Are you okay?”

  No, she’s more scared than she’s ever been and doesn’t know how she’s going to get through this. She whispers to keep from sobbing, “I’m dizzy.”

  “I fucking told him you have a concussion.” She leans Shae against the headboard. “I’ll be right back.” The woman walks to the door and pulls it open. “Rosita!”

  After a few seconds, a petite woman with coal black hair wrapped in
a bun stands in the doorway. Her eyes widen, and she wrings her hands in the white apron covering her brown dress.

  “I need help taking care of her. Can you find her some clean clothes? We’ll put her in one of the guest rooms after she takes a shower.” Rosita’s head bobs up and down before she scurries away. The woman turns back to her. “I hope you’re not shy.”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Shae lifts her head through the haze at the harsh voice from the doorway. The only thing familiar in this strange place. Black and white skater shoes, red hoodie, bangs flopping over one eye.

  Spencer.

  Bile burns her mouth, and she can’t hold back the nausea at his maniacal smile. Tears sting her eyes as her body lurches forward, fear rolling through her stomach even after it empties.

  His face twists in disgust. “Gross! She just threw up.”

  “Smart girl.” The woman nods to her. “He makes me sick too.”

  Eyes blazing with fury, he storms over to her and grabs her arm. “Fuck you! I don’t—”

  She jerks away and points at Shae. “Back at you. I told you she needs a doctor. If you’re not going to help her, then get the hell out of the way so I can.”

  A blank expression crosses his face before he cocks his eyebrow and smirks at her. “Fine. Just be sure you can finish what you start. Your father’s not here to protect you anymore.”

  Shae trembles as he walks backward out of the room, winking at her before the door closes. All this time, she thought they were free of Spencer. His sudden disappearance had been a welcome relief, easy to accept as permanent when there were so many other problems to try to overcome. Now, he’s back, seemingly even more deranged with his new-found power. She swallows, trying to speak through the bitter film glazing the inside of her mouth. “What’s he doing here?”

  The woman rolls her eyes. “Ricardo? He works for Juan.”

  She shakes her head. Even in her wooziness, she knows that’s not right. “No, his name’s Spencer. He drugged Nick and almost killed him.”

  “Oh, shit. Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widen in realization of something only she understands. She drops her voice almost as if she talks to herself, “It all makes sense now.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She blows out a deep breath. “We can’t worry about him right now.”

  Gentle fingers slide under her back and lift her up while Shae pushes down the soiled fabric with her feet. Free of the dress, she leans on the woman as she helps her walk to the bathroom and sits her on the bench in the shower. “I guess I’d better get naked too, since I know I’m going to end up soaked.”

  Shae clutches the bench with her fingers to keep from tipping over. Or falling apart. Trying to stop the panic from engulfing her, she concentrates on her new friend. The woman strips down in front of her, bare except for the small, orange lily on her left hip. “I like your tattoo.”

  “Thanks.” She reaches over her and turns on the water, shaking her head. “This is like fucking bad porn—two chicks in the shower together.”

  Warm water streams over her, the first sense of normalcy she’s felt since realizing her nightmare is real. A small blessing she’s not alone. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “You’re welcome. Would you like me to wash your hair?”

  “Yes, please. That would be wonderful.”

  She leans forward as the woman massages her head, fingernails gently scraping her scalp. Her body shudders when they brush against the lump on the back of her head.

  “Sorry!”

  Tears prick her eyes again as she nods. The sting of her wound not as strong as the pain clenching her heart. All she wanted was to find Nick, and now he and Max might both be gone. Unable to resist any longer, she takes the risk of knowing the truth and shattering her heart. “Is it true? Is Nick really…” She can’t bring herself to say the word, holding her breath waiting for the answer.

  The woman swallows hard, her voice almost lost in the hiss of the shower. “I don’t know. That idiot took my phone, and I haven’t been able to talk to anyone.”

  Pink, bubbly water runs down her body, floating over the dried red streaks caking her chest and arms. Juan’s blood. Mixed with hers. He’s dead, and maybe they are too.

  The woman jumps back as she gags again. “Shit! Warn a person when you’re going to do that!”

  A few more dry heaves, and the nausea passes. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t feel so great myself.” She squats in front of her, gentle concern filling her cocoa eyes. “All done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then let me help you wash.” Like a mother with her child, she gently cleanses Shae’s body, scrubbing the proof of Juan’s demise off her skin. After rinsing her, the woman gives herself a quick wash before turning off the water and wrapping them both in towels. “Let me get dressed, and then I’ll help you.”

  As she pulls on her capris, a knock sounds on the door. A soft voice speaks a beautiful language that sounds like music. “Is that Spanish?”

  “No, Portuguese. My mother’s from Brazil, and some of the staff are from her country.”

  The door swings open, and Rosita comes in carrying a small stack of clothes and a toothbrush. She sets them on the counter and motions toward Shae. They help her dress and brush her teeth before taking her into another bedroom. Trying to slow the spinning of her head, she lies back on the pillow and closes her eyes. “Will you stay with me please?”

  “Sure.”

  The woman lies next to her on the bed and pats her arm before rolling onto her side. After a few minutes, Rosita brings in a tray with soup, crackers, and a bottle of water. Grateful for her kindness, Shae smiles at her. “Thank you.”

  Rosita returns the sentiment and nods before leaving. With a shaky hand, she lifts the bottle and brings it to her mouth. The cool liquid helps settle the spinning in her stomach. “Where are we?”

  “Juan’s house, north of LA.”

  “But, Enrique is your father?”

  “Yes. Juan is…was…kind of like my uncle, my mother’s brother-in-law. But we haven’t seen each other in years. Juan went off the deep end. He had a stupid vendetta against Nick that my dad disagreed with. He and Nick were partners.”

  Were. Already using past tense, as if it’s true. She can’t think about that right now and blinks back tears. “I hope your dad is okay.”

  “Me too.”

  Forcing a smile for her new friend, she runs her hand across the smooth fabric of the pillow case. “Now that we’ve been naked together, I guess I should know your name.”

  The woman’s eyes light up as she laughs, giving a hint of her true personality. “It’s Evangeline, but people I like call me Gina.”

  “Evangeline! Get out here!” They both flinch at Spencer’s scream behind the closed door.

  “See?” She rolls her eyes before climbing off the bed. “I’ll be back.”

  A few minutes later, Shae opens her eyes to the door creaking. Goosebumps prickle her arms. Spencer smiles at her and nods toward the tray. “See what I remembered? I made sure it was sparkling water, and I had her give you some orange slices too.”

  Disgust rolls through her that he knows what she likes, that he knows anything about her. “Leave me alone.”

  “Don’t be like that. I’m the one who should be mad at you. All I needed was one more day, and Nick would have been dead. But no, you had to come racing back from New York and ruin everything.” He scoots closer to her on the bed and lays his hand on her thigh, his fingertips brushing the edge of the black, cotton shorts Rosita shared with her. “But it doesn’t matter now. The explosion took care of him, and now, I’m going to take care of you.”

  She turns away, refusing to let him see her cry. Not allow him to think he can control her by making her fall apart at the mention of Nick’s name. Trying to keep her composure, she grabs the bottle from the nightstand and takes a long swallow.

&nb
sp; “Good girl. Drink it all up.”

  A chill runs up her neck at the realization for his encouragement. His concern isn’t for her hydration. “You’re drugging me?”

  The smirk returns as he puts his hands up. “Your turn.”

  Adrenaline pulses through her body, giving her a small burst of strength to try to escape. She shoves off the bed, but her legs buckle, and she drops to her knees. The carpet scratches her skin as she crawls toward the door.

  His arms wrap around her waist, his sweaty hands gliding under her shirt and pressing her back against his chest, before whispering in her ear, “You can’t get away.”

  “Get off me!”

  She elbows him in the stomach, but he jerks her arm and turns her to face him. Pain shoots through her head as he yanks her hair backward, making her mouth fall open. Water sloshes over her cheeks and chin as he pours in the liquid. She spits it out and twists from side to side, but his grip tightens, keeping her head immobilized.

  The plastic rim scrapes against her teeth as he shoves the bottle into her mouth again, forcing her to swallow to keep from drowning. Once emptied, he tosses it aside and releases her hair, laying her on the floor as she sputters and coughs, her throat contracting from the assault. His lips graze her neck as he laughs. “I’m glad you didn’t drink the whiskey. This was much more fun.”

  A warm tingle spreads through her body and her hands drop away, too heavy to push any more against his body. Darkness tugs on her eyelids, and she fights to keep them open. She has to get away before he kills her.

  The faint burst of fireworks pierces the silence. His body lifts up from hers as he cocks his head to listen. “What the hell?”

  The popping grows closer, and voices yell from the other side of the door before it flies open. A blur streaks through the dimness, ripping him off her and flinging him against the wall. Her eyes drift shut as red rain sprinkles down on her yellow shirt.