Busted (Barnes Brothers #3)

by Shiloh Walker

  “What’s wrong? Did he just up and leave right after? Shit, he’s not lousy in bed, is he?”

  Ressa snorted. “If he was, trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here miserable. It was . . .” Now she found herself smiling, and she realized this was the first time in her life she truly understood the term bittersweet. “Ever had one perfect night?”

  “Maybe.” Tori shoved long brown hair back over her narrow shoulders, then she grinned. “But if I have, I was too drunk to remember it the next day.”

  Sighing, Ressa looked up and smiled. “It was probably the closest to perfect I’ll ever know. But that’s all it was. One perfect night.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hands slid smooth and agile down his chest. Followed by a warm, seeking mouth. Crazy, wild curls trailed over his skin and he let his instincts guide him. He fisted a hand in her hair as she continued to move lower, lower . . .

  When she closed her mouth around the head of his cock, Trey groaned, arching up.

  The snarl that ripped out of him was choked and harsh, so ragged, he barely recognized the sound of his own voice.

  Don’t stop . . .

  He tried to say the words.

  Maybe he did and just couldn’t hear it over the roar and rush of blood.

  Don’t . . .

  Her laugh teased his ears as she lifted up and trailed a hand up his thigh. I won’t. I’m having too much fun.

  Music crashed, cutting through the dream. Trey jolted and then sat upright in bed. The dream fell to pieces around him as he looked around the room.

  It had been a month since New Jersey—over a month since he’d seen . . . tasted . . . touched . . . Ressa.

  He still dreamed about her.

  The theme song from Buffy the Vampire Slayer was blaring from his phone. The display had one simple word on it, and while maybe it wasn’t exactly the apocalypse, he felt like he needed to gear up for battle.

  Grabbing the phone, he studied the display for a second longer and then silenced the alarm.

  School.

  Clayton started school today.

  It was six in the morning, still too early to get Clayton up. He had wanted it that way. He needed to get his head clear, brace himself. Psych himself up or something.

  The phone rang as he finished up in the bathroom and he answered with a sigh. “You realize that I can handle this myself, Mommy.”

  “Fuck you,” Travis said easily. “How’s my boy doing?”

  Trey smiled despite the stress that tried to chew him up inside. “Excited. If I could work up even a tenth of Clay’s excitement—hell, a hundredth of it, I’d be doing just fine with this.”

  “Today will be the worst. I . . . uh. Well, I had plans to be there, maybe drag you out to breakfast or something, but work wouldn’t let me off. Bunch of dickheads.”

  “It’s cool, Travis. I got this.” He moved to the window, staring out at the eastern horizon. He loved this spot—had spent many mornings just here, watching as the colors bled from deep purple to pink then gold as the sun rose higher. With one arm braced on the cool glass of the window, he stared outside. “Much as I appreciate it, you can’t always be there to hold my hand.”

  Silence caught, hung there. Then Travis blew out a heavy breath. “Fuck, Trey. You’ve spent the past few years shutting down more and more. Don’t act like you haven’t. I feel it. I just . . . you’re scaring me. And don’t try to lie to me about this. I—”

  “Travis. I’m okay.” He cut his twin off. Turning away from the window, he moved to his dresser and stared at the gold ring that had rested there for the past few weeks. He’d put it on for the trip home, but since then, it had rested in that very spot.

  The need to put it back on any time he ventured outside, whether it was to the library, to the grocery, or even those monthly trips to church with Aliesha’s folks, was going away.

  He could handle life without that shield.

  He’d even handled a few mild flirtations—not on his side—without feeling like he needed to bolt.

  And maybe it was just because he needed it, but it seemed the ghosts that hung around him were a little lighter.

  Of course, there was a ghost haunting him. We had a good night but . . .

  “Trey—”

  “I’m okay.” He touched the ring. “I took my ring off. I was out running and this cute blonde started asking me about my tattoo. I didn’t turn into an Olympic sprinter in my desperation to get away. I ran into a woman in the produce aisle and she asked me for my name and I didn’t bolt.”

  “Did you give her your name?”

  Trey winced. “My name, yeah. But when she asked for my number . . . well. I wasn’t interested.”

  * * *

  Travis scraped his nails across the growth of stubble on his face. If he hadn’t been laid up in a hospital bed, he’d be on the other side of the Atlantic—and that had him pissed. He was more pissed off about the fact that he was laid up dealing with blood loss than the fact that he’d been shot two days ago.

  Damn, but he wanted out.

  He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in the States.

  He’d wanted to be there for his twin. Had been prepared to talk Trey through this. But oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling all that conflict he’d expected to feel. He eased up on the choke chain he’d lived with and realized something was . . . different, very different with his twin.

  Normally Trey felt like a barren landscape.

  “You are okay,” he murmured.

  “No.” Trey’s voice was honest.

  “Fuck, man.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he tried to put his finger on just what it was he felt. There was something. He could feel it. “Did you . . . hey, you finally went out with your librarian, didn’t you?”

  “No.” Trey laughed and the sound was bitter, humorless. “No. That didn’t work out.”

  “Okay.” He frowned, tried to figure it out. “What is it then? Something’s different with you. You feel . . . hell, you . . . aren’t as empty.”

  “I’m not,” Trey said, his voice blunt. “I can’t say I’m back to normal, but I’m getting there. I’ve got a promise to keep. You, though . . . man . . .”

  Trey went quiet.

  Travis braced himself, the lie already there.

  But Trey just sighed. “Something’s up with you, I think. Let me know when you’re ready to stop holding back on me. Listen, I gotta go. I need coffee if I’m going to get through the morning.”

  * * *

  Brooding, Trey took that coffee out to the pergola, watching as the early morning sunlight glinted off the pool. It was early yet, but despite the coolness of the morning, he didn’t bother going inside for a shirt as he sat there and continued his brood.

  A faint ache still lingered in his side, although it didn’t come from him.

  More than once, he’d dealt with this from his twin, although it had been less and less over the years.

  He wouldn’t pry. Hadn’t then, wouldn’t now. But damn if he didn’t want his twin to stop holding back from him. Especially when shit like this happened.

  The door creaked open behind him. Slowly. Although the coffee was still fairly hot, he took a healthy swig and swallowed gamely before leaning forward. Still acting all nice and casual, he put it down, taking care to nudge it far out of reach before he leaned back and laced his hands behind his head.

  With a lusty sigh, he waited.

  His internal clock told him he still had a good fifteen minutes before he’d planned to wake up Clayton.

  That didn’t matter.

  The floorboards shifted as the boy crept closer.

  He managed not to grin.

  Lowering his lashes, he waited.

  Then—oomph—

  “First day of school! First day of school!”

  He caught Clayton before the kid could drive that knee any farther up into sensitive parts of his anatomy. Flipping Clayton onto his back, he stared down into eyes as blue as hi
s own. “What?” he asked, although his ears were still ringing from Clayton’s screech.

  “First day of school!”

  “I think you’ve watched Finding Nemo too many times.” Hauling Clayton up for a hug, Trey sighed, taking a minute to just . . . enjoy. Clayton was still all warm from his bed and he smelled like the soap he’d scrubbed with last night. “I think your calendar is off. School starts next week, I bet. Besides, you can’t be going to school already. You’re not old enough.”

  “I’m almost six years old, Dad. I should have started last year.” Clayton wiggled free and moved around until skinny, sharp knees were driving into Trey’s thighs.

  “Nah. Besides, you didn’t turn five until it was too late to sign you up. I remember, they told me. Still I’m not sure you’re old enough. Maybe I should call and check . . .” He fixed his face into his best thinking expression. “And I’m sure it’s not this week.”

  “And it is too this week. You reminded me last night and made me go to bed early. Did you forget?”

  Trey scrunched his face, thought harder.

  Then he sighed. “I guess maybe I did. Since you seem pretty certain it’s today, I reckon we ought to deal with breakfast and stuff, right?”

  “Right.” A sly look crept across Clayton’s face. “Since it’s school and all, that’s like a special day. I bet it’s even special enough for chocolate chip pancakes.”

  “Nice try.” Amused, he stood up, hooking his arm around the boy and then swinging him around until Clayton was on his back. “We can talk chocolate chips on the weekend. How about some plain waffles instead? I can whip those up in half the time.”

  * * *

  Six a.m.

  Ressa studied her phone after she’d turned off the alarm. With a sigh, she went to her notifications and eyed her schedule for the day.

  She had to get Neeci up and off to her first day at school and Ressa had a late day at the library. Her mother was helping out on the late nights—they’d worked it out a while ago and it was going to have to suffice, but days like today would suck because she might not see her bed until eleven or later. She still had work to get done on the blog, once she had Neeci settled.

  Already she was tired, which sucked because she had to be at work at her regular time tomorrow.

  I can do this, she told herself, and she knew she could. The words had been her mantra ever since she’d taken over guardianship of her niece back when Neeci was a baby. Neeci had needed a stable life and Ressa was the only person who could offer it. She loved the little girl like she was her own, but there were too many days when she found herself questioning things—like whether or not she was equipped for the job that had been thrust upon her.

  Child, nobody is ever equipped for the things they find themselves doing . . . you just do the best you can. Words Mama Ang had told her, years ago, rose to steady her as she sat up. Yeah, the best she could do. She could do this.

  With that in mind, she dismissed the notifications and went to the calendar on her phone. She couldn’t function without her agenda.

  A series of notifications, an alert from her voicemail, and a list of the calls she’d missed came up.

  She grimaced when she saw that her cousin Kiara had called.

  Kiara, Neeci’s mom.

  Once, Ressa had thought Kiara was like her guardian angel. She ended up being more like an albatross. Ressa loved her dearly and she knew Kiara loved her, but it was a poisoned, toxic sort of love.

  It was the same kind of love Ressa had had for her father.

  The same kind of love Ressa was determined to keep away from Neeci.

  She had to wonder what Kiara wanted. She never called over anything good. Kiara either wanted money or a favor or to see Neeci, and that always ended up with the girl crying and despondent for days on end.

  Doubt gnawed at her, but she deleted the voicemail without listening. She’d seen Kiara a few weeks ago. She had plans to see her again in a few weeks on her birthday, and Neeci would see her, too. If it was important, Kiara could call again, or write. Morse code . . . something.

  She tossed the phone down and climbed out of bed, determined to face the day without dread.

  Or with as little dread as possible.

  After all, it wasn’t every day her little cousin started school.

  * * *

  “I wish Mama was here.”

  Flicking a look up, Ressa met Neeci’s gaze in the reflection. “I know, baby.”

  “Granny Ang is picking me up, right? She won’t forget?”

  “No.” Ressa managed not to chuckle. Like Angeline would ever forgot Neeci. She’d never forget her baby. “She won’t forget you.”

  “Why can’t you pick me up?” Neeci demanded.

  “Because I’m working, sugar. You know that.”

  “That’s stupid. They can just let you come home. For today.” Neeci dropped her head—or tried to—onto the bathroom counter. “Ouch!”

  “Be still.” Ressa figured she’d told her cousin that five times in the past five minutes. In fifteen minutes or so, they’d be done—the good news was that they wouldn’t have to do this every day. The bad news, well, it didn’t matter to a five-year-old that you only had to deal with your hair like this every week—or less—the five-year-old still wasn’t going to go for being still.

  “I hate getting my hair done.” Neeci stood there, her lip poking out and her bright eyes miserable.

  Ressa’s heart broke a little and she put the brush down. Sitting down on the toilet, she smoothed Neeci’s bangs to the side. “We’re almost done,” she promised. “Come on now. Aren’t you excited for your first day of school?”

  Neeci’s gaze darted away and she shrugged, one small shoulder jerking up and down. Then she brought her hand up to her mouth, automatically going to poke her thumb inside.

  “We’re not doing that anymore.”

  “I bet Mama wouldn’t care,” Neeci said, mumbling around the thumb even as Ressa went to pull her hand down.

  Finally succeeding, Ressa cocked a brow. “Maybe she wouldn’t, but she’s not here and she’s not in charge. I am. Besides,” she said, shifting into a no-nonsense tone. “Think about all the stuff you’ll be touching at school. Desks and doors and chairs . . . everything you touch, somebody else touched. So if you touch whatever they touched and then stick your thumb in your mouth like that, baby, you’ve got those nasty germs in your mouth.”

  “What kinda germs?” Neeci wrinkled her nose.

  “Gross kinds. What if somebody picked up used gum from the ground? Or went to the bathroom and didn’t wash their hands? That’s just nasty.”

  Neeci’s eyes rounded and she looked down at her hands. As those hands crept back behind her back, Ressa bit back a smile. Neeci had never much liked germs.

  With a sigh, Neeci leaned in and rested her head on Ressa’s shoulder. “What if nobody likes me? What if I don’t make friends? I had a couple of friends at preschool, but none of them go here. What if I never make another friend my whole life?”

  “Oh, honey.” Now her heart was twisting and turning all over. Pulling her cousin into her lap, she hugged her. There was nothing the girl could have said that would have hit home harder. “Neeci, there is absolutely no reason you shouldn’t make friends. You’re funny and you’re nice and you like people. All you have to do is be nice and you’ll find people who like you.”

  Neeci was quiet for a minute. “But you’re funny, and you’re nice. You like people. But you had all kinds of problems getting people to like you. I heard you talk about how you didn’t have many friends in college and you didn’t have a lot in school either, and the friends you did have was trouble. What if I’m like that?”

  “Were trouble,” she corrected automatically, even as she thought about little ears. Just what had she been talking about and what had Neeci overheard?

  There wasn’t an easy answer to this, was there?

  “I didn’t make friends all that well, you’re right,�
� she said slowly. “We’ve talked about this, Neeci, you and making friends. We’ve talked about it a lot. Yeah, I did some bad things growing up and I hung out with bad kids. I did stupid things that could have gotten me in trouble.”

  “And your daddy was an asshole.”

  “Neeci!” Ressa glared at her in the mirror.

  “I heard Granny Ang say it,” Neeci said defensively.

  “What Granny Ang says and what you can say are two different things.” Ressa blew out a breath and shrugged aside the knee-jerk instinct to defend her father. Not only was he past the point of needing defending, he also had been an asshole. A terrible father, even if he had loved her in his own twisted way. Bad people can still love. That doesn’t make it healthy—for anybody. “My father wasn’t a good man, no. He did stupid things and made bad choices, but that doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m telling you. I made my own choices, too. And once I started making better choices, sweetie, I made better friends. I found people who liked me.”

  “Did they like you even though you did stupid stuff?”

  Snapping a band around the last plait, she turned Neeci around and bent over so they could see eye to eye. “When it comes to stupid stuff and your friends, that’s how you know who your real friends are, baby. Your real friends are the ones who are going to love you . . . even after they know all about the stupid stuff and the bad mistakes. They know . . . and they love you anyway.”

  Neeci scuffed the toe of her new pink sneaker on the floor. Not looking at Ressa, she said softly, “I was talking to Mama about school and she said since I was so pretty, people were gonna like me. But what if people don’t think I’m pretty? What if other girls are prettier?”

  Typical. Ressa didn’t even bother giving in to the urge to be frustrated. “There’s a lot more to being a friend than being pretty.” She rubbed her hand over Neeci’s neck, turning it over in her head. Then, easing back, she waited until Neeci looked up. “Hey, you know old Tom? He lives in the place across from Granny?”