Shayla Black - [Wicked Lovers 02]

by Decadent

  And there was no fucking way he could watch them build a life together.

  Even now, when he knew all was well and that he should leave them, he couldn’t make himself walk away from her.

  Instead, he knelt by the bed. Kimber’s sleep-lax hand was right in front of him, and he took it gently so he didn’t wake her. But even he felt the desperation in his touch as he brought her fingers closer to his lips and pressed a bittersweet kiss to the back of her hand, trying not to crush her.

  God, he loved her. Somehow, even when he’d worked for the Colonel and she’d been seventeen, some part of him had suspected that she’d be his weakness. Now, not only was he going to have to do without her, but know she belonged to a man he regarded as a brother.

  And the sad fact was, Kimber was better off without him.

  With that harsh realization, emotion rattled in his chest, exploded inside him. Damn, he hated this shit, but he couldn’t stop it. The sting of tears attacked his eyes with the subtlety of an ice pick. Then they were falling and wouldn’t stop. Deke drew in great big lungfuls of air, trying to get on top of the tears and shove them back inside. But his breath stuttered as he tried to inhale. He closed his eyes as liquid heat poured down his face and he gripped Kimber’s hand in his.

  What was he going to do without her? Looking back, she’d given him her complete trust, her tart sense of humor, her ability to be tough when necessary and soft when he’d needed it. He loved that feminine way she asserted herself, the way she could make him hard with just a smile.

  Deke buried his face in the blankets next to her thigh and let the sobs happen. Quietly. He didn’t want to wake her. Didn’t want anyone to know. But, oh fuck, he was bawling like a goddamn baby, and he couldn’t stop. His life had been one giant screwup. For years, Heather had been top on his list of regrets. Now he could add Kimber. She was going to hurt like hell for years to come, and he had no idea how to make the situation any better.

  Except have the most rational discussion they could about the child growing in her belly, then leave her in peace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  IN Luc’s car, Kimber floored her way into Dallas by eight that morning, the same tiny suitcase in hand that she’d left with.

  Only now, she had a broken heart.

  When she’d awakened shortly before five a.m. alone to find Deke crashed on the sofa in their “man den,” Kimber couldn’t help but get the picture. After all, she’d been sleeping in his bed, which was big enough for the two of them if they cuddled. Instead, he’d chosen the leather couch at the other end of the house. Kimber didn’t need him to draw her a picture; she understood the implication perfectly.

  Sniffling as she eased the car from one highway, across the interchange, to another, Kimber turned on the radio and determined to think of the future—without dissolving into tears.

  She was going to have a baby. She was going to be a good mother, a nurse, live near her family. Her he-men father and brothers would no doubt hit the ceiling when she eventually announced that she was having a baby and not getting married. They were horribly old-fashioned. But they’d get over it. If they insisted on beating the crap out of someone for knocking her up and not “doing right by her,” she’d simply point out that Luc had proposed and she’d refused. They’d have plenty to say about that. The fact Deke was actually the baby’s father was none of their business.

  As she approached home, she called Logan. She didn’t really want to deal with him, but he was the information source about her dad and his release from the hospital, especially since Hunter was still behaving with all the warmth of a glacier.

  He answered on the first ring and barked out, “Kimber?”

  Lord, spare her caller ID. “Morning.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Nearly back to my apartment.”

  “Really? You finally found your brain and left the tag-teaming two-some in Tyler?”

  No, she’d finally gotten in over her head and ruined the lives of two perfectly wonderful men, one of whom she’d never get over. “It’s over. By my choice. Let’s leave it there.”

  She’d tell him about the baby later. When she was stronger. When Dad was better. When they weren’t on the phone. And not until she was absolutely ready to face them all.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  His tone intimated that she’d finally done the right thing and hadn’t it been obvious. No. She felt wretched, and Logan’s attitude stomped all over her last nerve.

  “Why? What did you have against them?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? You, of all people, should know exactly why I wouldn’t want those kinky bastards anywhere near my sister. I want to throw up every time I think about the things they probably did to you—simultaneously, no doubt. The same things they’ve done to dozens of other—”

  “Kinky?” Oh, Logan always knew the perfect way to hop up her temper, and she shouldn’t take the bait but . . . “That’s rich coming from you. Do you have to whip a woman and cause her pain to feel man enough to have sex with her?”

  “Fuck,” he snarled. “No. That’s low, damn it! And it has nothing to do with”—he took a deep breath—“We’re off topic. You left them and you aren’t going back?”

  Kimber felt more like arguing, but figured that hitting his sex life was every bit as low as him hitting hers. In both cases, it was uncalled for. The realization deflated her. In the wake of her anger, she didn’t feel anything but crushed and damn tired.

  “Right.”

  She parked the car and collected her mail from its overstuffed box.

  “Sorry,” Logan finally muttered. “I know you’re an adult. Deke and Luc were your mistakes to make. I’ll try to stop being a prick.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry, too. How’s Dad? When is he coming home from the hospital?” she asked as she let herself into her apartment. It was stuffy and had that closed-in smell. Though the morning was muggy, she opened a few windows for air.

  “It’s looking like tomorrow. We’ll get some more test results back today, which will give the doctors a clearer picture of his condition.” He paused. “Dad would appreciate a visit.”

  “Now that the assbite who set the bomb is locked up and off the streets, I’m free to see him.”

  “I don’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to hold Ronald Fusco Jr. That’s his name. Dad helped send him to the big house about ten years ago. Ronny keeps saying he didn’t set the bomb. There’s no physical evidence tying him to it. There is a shitload of evidence to support the fact he was harassing Dad, but nothing more concrete.”

  Alarm jumped under Kimber’s skin. “Do the police still think he set the bomb?”

  “Depends on who you talk to. Besides, doesn’t matter what they think, only what the DA can prove. Right now, they don’t even have enough evidence to get an indictment, much less go to trial. The guy might walk.”

  “Damn it . . . What do you think? Is he guilty?”

  “Could go either way. But my gut . . . he didn’t set the bomb.”

  “So we could still have a psycho out there after Dad?”

  “Or after you. While you were in the swamp, we got a couple of phone calls on Dad’s cell, some guy asking where you were and how to find you. He always used private, untraceable numbers and never talked long. I never knew if he was a reporter or a criminal.”

  She frowned. Surely, he was overreacting. It had to be the press trying to get ahold of her and bite into the big juicy story of her and Jesse’s busted relationship, which seemed like a lifetime ago now. . . . She’d assumed all the unavailable numbers and mute voice mails on her cell phone were all members of the press, too.

  “I haven’t made any enemies.”

  “That you know of.”

  True. Kimber sighed. But unlikely. Had to be the pesky press not knowing when to leave a story alone. “Go with me to the hospital later today, just in case?”

  “Yeah. Let me know what time. Could I . . .” He hesitat
ed. “I gotta ask, are you okay? You sound like shit.”

  She felt like it, too.

  “I’m tired. The last two days have been really tough. I need a little space and rest. I’ll be fine.” She hoped.

  “Okay.” Logan didn’t sound like he believed her in the least, and she didn’t care. “Call me later.”

  “Will do.”

  After she disconnected the call, Kimber sorted through her mail. A lot of junk. A few bills she needed to pay. Later today, she’d call the manager of the restaurant where she’d been waitressing during nursing school and sweet-talk her way back into her job so she could pay said bills. Right now, she couldn’t face the future.

  Another envelope caught her attention. From the State of Texas. Her NCLEX results. God, could she take another shock if she hadn’t passed her nursing exams?

  Trembling, she tore into the envelope and scanned the page. Relief hit her. She’d passed easily. Kimber exhaled. Whew! All her hard work had paid off, and she had one less thing to worry about. Now, she and her baby would be assured a secure financial future. No doubt her family and Luc would all want to help. She’d rather not be beholden to any of them if she didn’t have to. And after Deke’s reaction . . . she assumed he’d rather pretend she didn’t exist.

  The very thought made tears threaten again, but she refused to let them flow. One day at a time. Today was about righting her apartment and her family interaction—and putting the past behind her.

  Kimber exited her apartment again, into the humid July morning. As she was pulling her suitcase out of Luc’s car and trying to decide how best to return the vehicle to him, her phone rang.

  She looked at the caller ID and groaned. But if today was about putting her past behind her, that meant she had to take care of this, too.

  “Hi, Jesse,” she greeted as she dragged her suitcase across the hot asphalt.

  “Just hi? I’ve been worried out of my mind! Who was the caveman that threatened me and called you his woman? And what did he mean?”

  Never mind that she’d been crying hysterically last night and was obviously upset about something. Had she ever really believed herself in love with him? Such stupid, girlish fantasies, borne of painting her memories of him with rosy brushstrokes and her complete inexperience with the opposite sex.

  Deke had been right about that.

  “Just . . . no one who’s going to bother you again.”

  “He sounded like a fucking barbarian. I was just trying to talk to you, and the guy sounded like he would have reached through the phone to strangle me if he could have.”

  That was probably accurate, but no need to freak Jesse out more.

  “Did you need something?”

  “I went up to Oklahoma City and St. Louis, put on shows, gave interviews—”

  “In which you said we’re still getting married. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Don’t be angry, babe. I’m back in town for a few days. Can—can we meet somewhere for lunch? Quietly. I need to talk to you. Please. You’re like the lone voice of sanity in my crazed life.”

  “Jesse, you’re the only one who has control over your crazed life, not me.”

  “See, I’m not sure that’s true. I just . . . Please.”

  Kimber wanted to refuse him and knew she should. But given last night’s call and this early morning conversation, she didn’t think he was going to get the picture over the phone.

  She sighed. “One o’clock.”

  “Great. Thanks!”

  She rattled off the name of a hole-in-the-wall deli with a great little patio. It would be hot out there, but they’d be alone. And she could finally end this chapter of her life.

  DEKE nursed a cup of coffee and a hangover when Luc came barreling into the kitchen.

  “Where is she?”

  He took a sip from his cup, ingesting the bitter brew. “Gone. She took your car.”

  “Damn! She said she was leaving, but I thought she’d at least say good-bye.”

  “You want to tell me why she left? Why she spent last night in my bed, instead of yours?”

  Luc shot him an incredulous stare. “You really are one screwed-up bastard. Would you rather that I’d spent all night beside and inside the woman you love?”

  God no. He was fighting between the rational part of him that knew pairing her with Luc would be best for them both and the emotional beast lurking within him that wanted to kill any man who laid a finger on her ever again.

  “I may as well get used to it now.” He smiled cynically.

  “Don’t bother. Kimber won’t marry me.”

  Deke flinched. Clearly, Luc had proposed. And the pain of losing the right to be her baby’s father was all over his face.

  What a horrible fucking mess. But Deke couldn’t bring himself to tell Luc that he was sorry Kimber had refused him. He was surprised, though. She seemed too practical to turn down a catch like Luc and raise a baby alone. God knew he was too much of a head case to help.

  “She loves you, man. She’d rather be alone than be with anyone else,” Luc said.

  How damn tragic was that? Deke shook his head.

  “So it’s all up to you.”

  Deke blinked and looked at his cousin as if he’d lost his mind. “Up to me to do what? I think I’ve done plenty here, and none of it good. If I do any more, things are likely to go from fucked up to catastrophic.”

  Luc set his cup of coffee aside and yanked Deke from his chair, to his feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Deke demanded.

  “Resisting the urge to beat the hell out of you. Barely.”

  “Bring it on,” Deke snarled, itching for a fight. Anything to take his mind off this shit.

  “And give you what you want? No. I’m going to screw your head back on straight. You are not going to leave Kimber alone and pregnant when you could make—”

  “Could make what? Love to her? Not without you or some other chump there. I know my boundaries, and she deserves more than I can give her. She’ll get smart and eventually accept your offer.”

  “You better hope to God she doesn’t because I’ll break land-speed records to run her to the nearest Justice of the Peace.” He frowned. “If you don’t want that to happen, fix it.”

  From that, Deke wondered if Luc would keep pursuing Kimber until he wore her down. He could be damn persistent.

  “What the hell are you saying?”

  Luc grabbed him by the shirt. “Get over your shit. Is that plain enough for you?”

  “My shit?” He jerked away. “I’m just supposed to forget that I caused the death of a sixteen-year-old girl? Poof. Just put the guilt out of my mind and everything is hunky-dory again? Let’s throw a fucking party.”

  “After twelve years—”

  “After twelve years, Heather is still dead and it’s still my fault.”

  “Goddamn it, it isn’t!” Luc growled. “I’m not going to win Kimber, but you still can. And you belong with her. She can heal you. You just have to face some realities about Heather and your involvement in her death.”

  “I know the realities,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You know the crap her family fed you. You swallowed it whole. But think about it. About her. She was messed up. Getting pregnant was just one of her issues.”

  He shrugged. “So she had problems. Who doesn’t? But being pregnant was the biggest problem.”

  “Wise up. What about her drug use? Or the fact her parents were divorcing? Wasn’t she failing school? Two days before she swallowed that bottle of pills, she’d failed her driver’s test, right?”

  “She wasn’t a drug addict. Her parents didn’t end up splitting. She could have turned school around, and retaken her driver’s test.”

  “She could have ended the pregnancy, too. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already told her parents. They’d offered to pay for an abortion. She didn’t kill herself because she didn’t want her parents to know you’d had sex. And she didn’t
do it because she felt she had no other options.”

  “You don’t understand how Heather was.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Luc shouted. “The girl craved attention. I’m sorry she’s dead. It’s terrible and tragic. But she didn’t want to untangle her life. She was determined to punish everyone for not loving her the way she wanted to be loved. Her sister was a bitch to her. Her dad never had time for her. Her mom took so many antidepressants, I wonder if she even knew Heather’s name anymore. If you look in the dictionary under dysfunctional family, their picture should appear.”

  “Yeah . . .” Deke sighed. “But being pregnant sent her over the edge.”

  “No. What put her over the edge is anyone’s guess. She’d known about the pregnancy longer than her parents’ divorce, school, or the driver’s test. Any of those things—or none of them—could be the final reason she committed suicide. She was a volatile, immature girl. You can’t keep being her martyr. You didn’t force the bottle of pills down her throat.”

  That was true. If he’d been there, he would have stopped her. Somehow. But from all accounts, she’d been distraught about the pregnancy and determined to end it all.

  “Your biggest part in this was an unfortunate condom and the way you behaved after she told you the news. It wasn’t as bad as the way you treated Kimber . . . but close.”

  Deke froze. “What are you saying?”

  “You reacted with fear and fury. You rejected her. Not the way a woman wants a man to behave when she says she’s going to have his child. If you’re worried about Kimber . . . leaving her to another man or to face this alone isn’t the way to ensure her emotional health.”

  Put like that . . . no shit. There was a big, heaping pile of reality.

  “But more than that,” Luc went on, “are you really going to walk away from the woman you love and your baby because of a death you didn’t really cause over a decade ago?”

  God, Luc made it all sound so simple, like he’d just been one tiny part of Heather’s messed-up life, but not the whole reason. Deke sat at the table again, grabbed his coffee, and stared into the black liquid swirling in his cup. Was it that simple? Years had gone by. Who knew? Not him; he’d resisted thinking about it too much.