by S. M. West
“We’re taking this outside. Stay here,” Nick orders, edging them to the door.
John smiles, his lips widening like the Joker, but his bravado is slipping with the gun at his throat.
As much as I’d like to give Nick what he wants, there’s no way I’m staying put. Neither of these assholes is messing with the man I love or destroying our future.
“How’s Léa?” John’s taunting tone chills my heart, and Nick freezes. “You may have fucked my sister, but I fucked yours first.”
I curl my fists. What on earth is he talking about? Dread slithers up my spine like a cold, deadly serpent.
“The fuck did you say?” Nick slams John into the wall, and Jesse advances on them, but John holds up a hand to stop him.
“Léa thought she could leave me. Nobody leaves me.”
With the bomb dropped, John knocks the gun from Nick’s hand, and it skids across the floor, coming to rest a foot in front of me.
John’s evil grin slices through my heart, and my stomach twists as a wave of nausea hits me. My brother was Léa’s pimp. He beat Léa to within an inch of her life. John left Léa for dead.
It’s only a second, maybe two, before Nick strikes, landing a bone-crunching punch to John’s face.
“I’m going to kill you,” Nick roars. His monsters are free and out for blood.
Jesse lunges for Nick, ripping him from John, but not before Nick kicks John in the chest, knocking him onto the floor.
John cries out, rolling, clutching his side and Jesse punches Nick in the face. On shaky legs, John stands, drawing his own weapon from inside his jacket, aiming for Nick. Only one thought enters my mind, get Nick’s gun on the floor.
My world tilts and my knees weaken. My vision focuses on my target: the one who killed my parents, and is now threatening to take away my Nick, my chance at happiness.
With shaky hands, I raise my arms and pull the trigger. The blast is loud and the recoil forces me to stumble backward.
John crumbles to the floor, and Nick and Jesse break apart, their gazes swinging from the body on the floor to me.
“Maggie, it’s okay.” Nick’s free from his fight and he takes the gun from my grasp.
“He’s dead.” Jesse’s hand rests on John’s neck.
“Get up slowly,” Nick says coolly, the gun on Jesse.
He does as Nick says, holding his arms up in surrender.
“Shit, Nick, easy, man.” Jesse’s voice quivers.
“Kick the gun over to me.” Nick motions to John’s gun on the floor. “Maggie, honey, go into the other room and call nine-one-one. You’re going to report a break in.”
Stunned, I don’t move, unable to understand what he means. He gently squeezes my side, pulling me tighter to him.
“You can’t do that,” Jesse protests.
“We can do whatever the fuck we want. Here’s your chance, Jesse. Get the fuck out of here and we won’t mention you. And stay the fuck away from us. Forever.” Anger rolls off Nick like a tidal wave.
“Fuck, Maggie.” Jesse looks at me with concern; whether for me or himself, I’m not sure. “Fine.” He turns toward the door.
“And Jesse,” Nick calls after him. “Your org’s gonna be in chaos—now’s your chance to lead. No promises, but with the little ties I still have left, I’ll put in a good word for you on the street. Consider it a peace offering.”
Jesse nods and leaves. Nick keeps me by his side and calls the police. The rest of the night is confusion.
The police descend on our house. Nick calls a lawyer, and we spend hours being questioned before we’re released in the early hours of the morning.
For now, they are saying self-defense and they aren’t charging me. My lawyer doubts they will, given I have no criminal record and from what they’ve seen so far, the evidence supports what we’ve told the police.
We can’t go back to our place, it’s a crime scene, so we head to Phoebe’s loft.
“Somehow, we always seem to end up here,” I joke as Nick locks the front door.
“Yeah. You okay?” He pulls me to his side.
The reality that I killed John comes in moments—flashes—but it hasn’t fully hit me. I don’t regret it, and if Nick’s life was threatened, I’d do it again.
Once in bed, he pulls me into his arms, my back to his chest. He buries his face in my neck and I tremble with every one of his breaths.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into my neck.
“For what?”
“For saving my life.”
“I could say the same,” I murmur, snuggling into him, finally feeling safe for the first time all night.
“Sleep.” He squeezes my middle, trailing several hot, languid kisses along my skin.
Not long after, Nick is asleep. I wish I could say the same for me, but I lie awake for quite some time.
We’ve been together now for a month and things are great. After his surgery, we were at the loft until my place was ready.
Nick didn’t have a home of his own and while he could have stayed with Kit or found a rental, I wanted him with me.
We’ve developed a rhythm. Nick helps out at the garage where he can, and while he keeps busy, he’s stir crazy without something of his own. Yet he never has an answer when I ask him what he wants to do. He doesn’t have a plan, and for a guy who is used to always having a plan, he’s floundering.
Tonight, facing off with John, he seemed more vibrant than ever. What if he misses the thrill of the danger? I’ve got nothing to base this on and he’s said nothing of the sort.
Heck, as scared as I was, I can’t deny there was a rush in the moment. Why am I looking for trouble? I’m tired and way off base.
When we wake in the early afternoon, something has changed. Nick isn’t a talkative guy, but he can be affectionate, or at least he is with me. Instead, he’s sulking around, fixing coffee, and getting ready for the garage without one word.
“Nick,” I call after him as he opens the front door.
I pull my hair back into a ponytail and tighten the holder while he glances over his shoulder at me. His scowl softens, but his frown doesn’t falter.
“What’s wrong?” I step toward him.
With an exaggerated exhale, he shuts the door. “Nothing, why?”
“Well, for starters, you didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”
I sound like a whiny girlfriend, something I’m not—Nick and I have our own lives—but he always kisses me goodbye.
Pink creeps into his cheeks, and I can’t help but smile.
“Nick Prophet blushing!” I exclaim and a sexy grin dances on his lips. “Wonders never cease.”
“Shut up.” He chuckles, pulling my hips until we’re chest to chest.
Like every time, the first touch of his lips is always chaste, kissing the corner of my mouth so lightly, I almost think I’m dreaming. But he never disappoints; his kisses build, making sure I don’t doubt how real it is.
My stomach squeezes, and my heart dips. I’m greedy for more. For more of his warm, firm lips on me, giving and taking, and no matter how long we kiss, it’s never enough.
“Sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His forehead rests on mine, eyes closed. “I’m stuck in my head.”
“What are you thinking about?” My hands cup his freshly shaven cheeks.
“Last night. Fuck, Maggie, I put you in danger. I’m no fucking better than Slaughter.”
“Stop right there.” I tighten my hands on his face, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “Don’t do this. You’re wrong—you got into this life to save your family; my brother did it for only one reason. Himself. You’re nothing alike so don’t even go there.”
I pull him to the couch, trying to get him to sit, but he stays firmly planted in the entrance.
“Have you given any thought to what you want to do?” I broach the subject.
“No. I’m a high school dropout. While I don’t need a diploma to tell me I’m smart, I’m not cut out for a nine-to-five offi
ce job. That’ll kill me.”
“And you don’t need to do that. You can be anything you want.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow skeptically and my throat squeezes from how he looks at me.
“Yes.” I do mean it, but what if last night’s adrenaline rush is what he needs?
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Last night you were alive. Is that what you’re looking for?”
“You’re kidding, right?” He’s stunned. “I was alert because you were there. You’re my only rush. They were a threat to you.”
My heart jerks at his truth and he continues, “That’s why. Nothing else. I don’t want any part of that life. But it doesn’t matter. You deserve better than me.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, his gaze unrelenting.
“Don’t say that. I want you.”
“Are you sure, Maggie? Can you without a doubt say I’m a good guy?” He raises a finger. “And before you answer, let me remind you of the handcuffs, the trunk, and—”
“Stop it. You’re itching to fight, and I’m not going to fight with you.”
My stomach lurches at the turn our conversation is taking. He’s not missing his old life, he’s lost, aimless and frustrated.
“You’re the one who wanted to talk. Wanted to know what I was thinking.”
His tone is flat, almost defeated, and my heart aches while I watch him leave.
Nick
I’m an asshole. Maggie was only trying to help. To reach me. And what do I do? Start a fight. Only reinforcing all the reasons why she shouldn’t be with me.
It’s not her fault that I don’t know what to do. Working at the garage feels like pity even though it isn’t. I need my own thing.
I toy with the cigarette in my hand. Twirling it over and under from thumb to pinky and back again. I’m itching to light it. To take one drag. But I’ve quit. I had to when I was shot and swore I wouldn’t pick one up again. I want one so bad I can taste it.
“Drop the cigarette or I’ll punch you in the balls.” Caro marches across the snow-covered lawn and grabs the cancer stick from me, snapping it in two.
“Happy?” I quirk an eyebrow with a knowing grin.
They are her vice as much as they were mine; I wonder when she had her last cigarette. She promised to quit with me, but I haven’t checked up on her.
“Were you destroying it so I wouldn’t light it, or so you couldn’t?”
“Shut up.” My sister shoves at my shoulder. “I saw Enid on the way out. She confirmed what we thought. Léa isn’t doing well.”
She’s using her doctor voice, and it’s more for her than me. She wants to distance herself, shield us from the inevitable.
We just spent an hour with Léa and there was no doubt that her health is rapidly declining.
We both knew this day would come. Léa’s quality of life is oceans away from where it was before the assault, and the doctors told us her life expectancy would be severely diminished because of it.
All the signs are there. She’s not mobile and is fighting her third UTI in as many months. It’s only a matter of time. Bile claws up my throat at the thought.
“How are things with Maggie?” She has a sixth sense for what’s bothering me.
“Fine.” I put the car in drive.
“Really? Doesn’t sound like it; what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do.” I don’t want to get into the shooting and Slaughter’s death right now. Besides, Caro would say good riddance. “Helping at the Phoenix is fine, but that’s her thing. I need to find something to do…”
“That’s yours,” she finishes, and I nod. “Have you given any more thought to your conversation with Enid?”
At our last visit with Léa, Maggie and Caro sat with Léa while I went with Enid to fill out some paperwork.
We talked about many things including the level of care needed for those with brain damage like Léa, where rehabilitation isn’t always possible, but they aren’t on life support. It’s quite a financial undertaking, and many can’t handle it.
Our conversation got me thinking about helping those with less. My age-old pipe dream, but somehow talking to Enid made it seem possible.
If we could help people like Léa and their families, it would make all that my sister endured more bearable.
I would never wish the stress and anguish of not having the means to care for a loved one on anybody. Especially on those who are helpless and need it like Léa.
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
“And? What does Maggie think?”
Starting a facility like that would be a huge undertaking and would require investors, healthcare professionals, and a lot more. I’m excited but also hesitant, and that’s why I haven’t mentioned anything to Maggie.
We’re just starting out, and what if I fail? It would be a serious hit to my financial situation. What if I can’t take care of Maggie?
A wry grin creeps across my face. She’d tear me a new one if she could hear my thoughts. Maggie’s loud and vocal in telling me she takes care of herself.
“You haven’t told her, have you?” Caro pushes.
“No, not yet.”
“Why? She’d love the idea, and she’d help. So would I. I’ve been waiting.”
I glance to my sister, puzzled. “Waiting? For what?”
“For you to ask me to invest, or shit, to be your partner.” She laughs, slapping at my arm.
“What? Seriously?”
“Yes, dummy.” She bounces in her seat. “This could be our tribute to Léa. I was giving you time to mull it over and waiting for you to ask to do this with you.”
Caro beams at me, hopeful, and I catch a glimpse of the young girl Léa and I cared so deeply for, both of us giving her all that our parents failed to do for us, for one reason or another.
My chest swells with pride and love. And hope. “Fuck, let’s do it.”
31
Four months later
Maggie
People are animals. Every single one. We are hardwired to survive at all costs, and most of us have no clue what we’re capable of until faced with the unthinkable.
Nick and I have faced the unthinkable. I’ve seen the ugly and dirty truth about him, what he was capable of.
Luckily, it didn’t blind me to his heart, to what was buried beneath the hurt and his fear of failure. And now, that’s all I see.
His big, beautiful heart and how he gives so much of himself to those he loves. He’d give his life. In my case, he almost did.
Nick crosses through the bay doors, and I don’t see him so much as feel his eyes on me. Kit worries his lips, watching while I make a list of parts and other things we need to restore the 1967 Austin Healy he just purchased.
His easy gait is the first thing to catch my eye. His boyish grin on his handsome face, and that dimple, the one that pops whenever he’s up to no good, is what holds my attention.
“Damn, we’re done, aren’t we?” Kit asks, glancing from Nick to me.
“What?” I peer up at him.
“You’ve only got eyes for this guy.” He points at Nick. “I’m outta here. Text me when you have time to talk.” He smiles, despite feigning annoyance at Nick’s intrusion.
“Sure.” I’m distracted and give him a weak wave, my gaze back to Nick.
“See ya, Kit.” Nick pulls my chair out. “Get cleaned up; we’re going out.”
“We are?” I gather the papers with my greasy hands. “Okay, give me a second.”
He pulls me in for a kiss. “I’ll give you two.”
I wait for the running water to warm and think back to this morning. Nick woke me by kissing along my neck and collarbone like he does most mornings.
The first few hours before sunrise, before our daily lives take over, are my favorite. I’d lie, cheat, and steal for that time with Nick. It’s ours. It’s our time to block the world out.
I c
huckle, thinking of when I thought he was a dick. When my most frequent desire was to rip his balls off.
Sure, he can still be a jackass, and there are days when he’s moody and difficult, but not a single bone in my body hates him. I simply can’t.
We have a good life. I run the Phoenix, and he helps where he can, but his passion is the rehabilitation facility, Léa’s Home.
In partnership with Caro, they are building a center in honor of their sister. Sadly, Léa passed away two months ago, amidst all the plans. Both Nick and Caro were heartbroken and are still grieving.
The vibrant, loving woman may have left them over a decade ago, but in many ways, when she passed it was like losing her all over again. But they also found comfort in knowing Léa was finally at peace.
They started the home before she died, and her death only drove and strengthened their passion to bring it to life. Logan and Phoebe came home for the funeral, and that, too, helped Nick. Now, the work to build the facility helps keep their sister alive.
He sprinkles kisses along the back of my neck. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out.” His smile curves along my flesh.
“Don’t tease me. Are we going out or not?”
Nick
She dries her hands and I’m still amazed at how clean she gets them. There’s never a trace of grease or grime to give away she works on cars for a living.
Once in the car, Maggie doesn’t wait to push for answers.
“Where are we going?” She buckles up.
“Wait and see.” My tone is light and playful, my grin sly.
The drive isn’t long, and she quickly figures out we’re going home.
“I thought this was a surprise.” She shuts the front door behind us.
I pull her into the dining room, my lips sealed, and hand her an envelope with her name on it. She opens it, studying the contents.
“Is this what I think it is?” Her eyes gleam with hope. I nod, a grin creeping onto my face.