F*ck Club: Riley

by Shiloh Walker

  And apparently, she needed him now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Riley, I don’t want the money…”

  “Fine.” He studied the list of medicines and then looked up at the woman sitting on the edge of the bed. She stroked the leg of the small boy tucked under the blankets.

  His arm was in a cast.

  Her face had a horrific bruise—one that spread from her eye down to her jaw. Nobody would quite buy the story that she’d walked into a wall.

  Brianna Sharp, once upon a time, had been his world.

  She still was, truth be told.

  But he hadn’t been hers.

  He’d spent three months gone, attending college several hours away, going back home on weekends, and when he’d gone home for that last Christmas before his parents died, she’d broken things off with him.

  He hadn’t understood why.

  He still didn’t.

  What he did understand was that the man she’d been living with for the past five years had beaten the shit out of her. Then he’d gone and turned his anger on Bree’s son, Toby.

  Riley had suspected Donnie was abusing her for a while, but he hadn’t realized it was that bad. If he had known…well, Donnie would be dead, and Riley would either be whistling while he worked—so to speak—or in jail, depending on how well he hid the body.

  But now that he knew…

  No more, he told himself. This isn’t happening anymore.

  “You’re coming home with me,” Riley said calmly, folding up the piece of paper and tucking it into his pocket.

  She stiffened.

  “No.”

  “Bree.”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze, the soft, light-green color of her eyes startling against her pale, dusky-gold skin. They had grown up together in a small town—Turner Grove. It was a small speck on the map, just outside Bardstown, Kentucky, with the closest decent-sized city being Louisville.

  After he’d lost his parents—and Bree—he’d dropped out of the University of Kentucky and spent the next few years doing odd jobs in both Bardstown and Louisville, working his ass into the ground trying to keep from losing the house that had belonged to his parents, then just trying to take care of his brother and sister.

  Bree still lived in Turner Grove, but that speck on the map wasn’t exactly prosperous and she’d ended up working at the grocery store just down the street from where Riley lived.

  Naturally, he’d say hi.

  Naturally, she’d say hi back.

  Naturally…he still loved her.

  “What?” she asked warily, shifting skittishly on the seat.

  “Nothing.” He smiled and knew she’d seen the lie, but he wasn’t about to tell her that he was mentally kicking his own ass for not being there. If he’d been in Turner Gove instead of in Bardstown, if he’d worked less, if he’d managed to hold onto her, she wouldn’t be sitting there with a bruise on her face, while her son lay in bed, knocked out on painkillers, his arm wrapped in a cast that went all the way up to his elbow.

  If he’d been there maybe he would have seen it sooner, figured it out sooner.

  Riley had loved her since he was thirteen years old.

  He’d always thought she felt the same.

  He’d learned the truth of it well enough, but it didn’t change what was.

  He loved her.

  He was going to take care of her.

  And…he knew her.

  He knew how to get his way and he’d feel guilty about it later, but for now, all that mattered to him was keeping her safe.

  “Look at him, Bree,” Riley said calmly. “Look at his arm. That prick Donnie did that. Nothing will stop him from hurting either of you again.”

  “He’s in jail, Ry.” Her fingers tightened into fists and he heard the conviction she tried to put into her voice.

  But it wasn’t real.

  “For now. The last time, his lawyer had him out in hours. Are you going to risk him coming after you? After Toby?”

  She flinched and he pushed the issue. “If he hurts you, or worse, who is going to take care of him?”

  The boy slept on, exhausted and probably traumatized. And Bree was, too.

  Riley hated himself for what he was doing.

  But as long as that prick Don Healy breathed, he’d be a threat to Bree and Toby. Even in jail, he was managing to jab at her. His mother had already called Bree three times, demanding to know why she was punishing Donnie like that. Didn’t she know how to be a decent wife?

  They weren’t even fucking married.

  The last time she’d called, Riley had been standing right there and he’d grabbed the phone away from Bree, cutting the mean old bitch off mid-sentence. “Listen, Mrs. Healy, I don’t know about you, but my mama taught me never to raise my hand to a woman and she made sure I didn’t turn into a bully, either. If you’d done the same, Bree wouldn’t be here with a black eye and her little boy wouldn’t have a broken arm. Stop calling.”

  They’d had a few hours of peace.

  It wouldn’t last too much longer though.

  “You know they’ll be able to get him out.” Riley caught the closest chair and pulled it over to the bed, sitting down and looking at her. Her dark brown hair was scraped back from her face, leaving the bruise unhidden, and her eyes were haunted. “They’ve done it before. They’ll do it again.”

  “And if I go with you, they’ll both look to cause you trouble.” Her mouth compressed into a thin line, Bree shook her head. “This is my mess, Riley. You can’t always…”

  He took her hand.

  Her words caught in her throat.

  “If you didn’t want me to help, why did you call me?”

  Her gaze flew to meet his and she swallowed, her slender throat working. “I don’t…”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know, Bree.” He squeezed her hand and then let go, unable to touch her for too long without wanting more. He’d always want more from her and she’d never give it. “You called me because you needed someplace, somebody to turn to.”

  “And that’s always been you.” She closed her eyes and lifted her chin, staring upward. “Fine. I’ll come to Bardstown. But, I’ll have to find a place to stay…something. I can’t stay there too long.”

  “We’ll work something out.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Riley had to cancel his ten a.m.

  He never canceled, so he hoped that would buy him some leeway.

  “This is rather late notice, Riley.”

  His client, one Winifred Halliday, sounded very put out.

  “I’m sorry, Freddie. You know I hate to disappoint you, but I had a personal emergency and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  He leaned against his car as he stared up at his apartment, wondering if Bree had lain down to get some sleep.

  She needed it.

  Toby was still sleeping—or he had been when Riley had carried him up, so there was nothing to keep Bree from catching a nap. The thought of her asleep in his bed was enough to drive him out of his mind, but he had to focus on something other than the woman who might or might not be in his bed—such as the woman whose bed he was supposed to be in.

  “Very well.” She sighed and he heard paper rattling.

  Checking her schedule, although they both knew what was to come—she’d request another Tuesday, three weeks out.

  Her husband traveled. Every three weeks, he flew out of town, leaving on a Monday night and returning Thursday morning, like clockwork.

  She said he was in finance.

  Riley imagined he was. Freddie paid him very well.

  But he also suspected the husband had his own little arrangement and this was Freddie’s way of getting back at him.

  “Assuming you get your personal emergency taken care of…” She paused, then suggested a date.

  Yep. A Tuesday. Three weeks out.

  “I’m all yours, darling.”

  “If only that were true, Riley,” she sa
id, sighing dramatically.

  He ended the call a few seconds later and cleared the history before tucking the phone into his pocket.

  He had the next few days free and could focus on Bree. And hopefully, he could figure out some way to keep her from seeing just how much she still owned him—completely.

  * * * * *

  “You know she’s going to break your heart again.”

  Riley stared down his little sister.

  Charlotte, also known as Charli Steele, was twenty-four going on fifty.

  Riley was still planning on making something for himself and his brother with the bar, but his little sister had already gone and done it. Well on the way to being the doctor she’d always wanted to be, she was smarter than he’d ever be, and he knew it.

  Charli wasn’t just smart, either. She was gifted. She’d graduated high school at fifteen and gone on to college, finishing that in just under three years. By the time she started medical school, she was just shy of her nineteenth birthday. Now, already done with that part, Charli was well into her residency.

  She was smart, no doubt, and insightful, too.

  But she was wrong on this.

  “No,” Riley said calmly. “She’s not.”

  Bree couldn’t break his heart again, because it had never fully recovered from the first time, but that wasn’t going to get in the way of what needed to be done.

  “You can’t expect me to believe that she can live with you and you won’t be affected.” Charli slid her glasses off and studied him, head cocked. She had shadows under her eyes and her ash-brown hair was cut short to frame her narrow face. Ever since she’d started her residency, she’d cut out pretty much all the frills from her life, saying she’d have time for the nice stuff after the important stuff was taken care of.

  He worried about her, because her life was nothing but work. He’d been doing the same thing at twenty-four, working his ass off, but he’d been doing it to make sure she and Con had what they needed.

  That wasn’t the case for her.

  Or maybe it was. She was doing it to make sure she had what she needed.

  She needed to be a doctor.

  So he kept his mouth shut and watched as she dragged herself through the days, exhausted by the brutal shifts demanded of her. He’d watched as she’d stayed awake night after night, studying, determined to finish school. Always determined.

  Right now, she existed only for the pursuit of finishing up her residency and moving on to the next part of her career plan.

  “You know, maybe when you actually start having a life of your own, I’ll listen to what advice you have to offer about mine,” he said, tapping her on the nose, something he’d started doing when she was a tiny little thing of two or three and he’d been eight years older. “Until then…”

  “Hey, I’d be happy to have a life. There’s just no time. And nobody who is…interested. At least nobody who interests me back.” She lifted a shoulder and reached for her coffee. “I wish I could get this coffee at the hospital. The shifts would still suck, but maybe not quite so bad.”

  “Hey.” The low, gritty voice came from the tall, lean man who dropped down onto a stool two down from where Charli sat.

  Glancing over at Shame, he nodded. “How you doing? Last night go okay?” He kept it casual, not adding anything extra. As far as his sister was concerned, he and Con ran the pub—that was how they made money. They’d bought the place and were now making a living off of it, instead of merely working for the former owner as the bouncer and bartender duo they’d been for the past few years. And of course, even that was only partly true.

  Ballz & Bellz was a sports pub with the typical fare—alcohol and wine and beer, specializing in products from local venders. There was also a huge arcade in the back and weekly pinball machine tournaments. The idea had been a dream of his father’s, one the man had never been able to see come to fruition, so Riley and Con had made it happen for him.

  Their other partner in crime was Shame. He was one of the other bartenders at B&B. It was an ideal place to meet women, and if one knew how to do it, pick up new clients. It could be a touchy thing, but he’d managed to keep the ball bouncing for a while now.

  “Went fine.” Shame gave Charli a bland smile and sat down at the bar, taking the inventory list Riley was compiling and skimming through it. “Ordering more of that new bourbon?”

  “Yeah. Already running low.”

  Shame ran his tongue across his teeth. “You might want to keep an eye on that new server, Bruce whatever. I think he’s part of the reason we’re…running low.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Riley focused on Shame. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  Shame shrugged. “Just watch him next time he’s on when you’re here. And check his tickets. Noticed something kind of off.” He slanted a look over at Charli and gave her a droll smile. “How’s it goin’, Doc?”

  “It’s just fine, Max.”

  She wouldn’t use his nickname. Unlike most of the women who hung around Shame for any length of time, she didn’t get nervous or shy, nor did she start blushing or flirting with him.

  Of course, Shame had been hanging around the family ever since he and Con had become friends. He practically was family.

  So Riley didn’t have to explain the rules to Shame.

  His sister was off limits.

  It was fine because Charli had never shown any sign of being interested in Shame, either. She’d probably known him too long.

  “When’s Lee going to be working?” Charli asked casually.

  Riley looked at her from under his lashes. “Lee? I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “Just to say hi.” She shrugged. “I thought maybe I’d ask him out for a drink.”

  “I don’t think so,” Shame said, voice flat. He got the words out before Riley had finished processing that his baby sister—his workaholic, never-go-out baby sister had been pondering asking that dick out. One of Riley’s employees—and not just at the bar.

  She cocked her head and looked over at Shame. “Problem, Max?”

  “You don’t need to be going out with a piece of shit like him,” Shame said, pushing back from the bar. “You want a date, ask one of your nice doctor types.”

  “You know…I think I’m a big girl. If I want a…date, I can figure out how to take care of it myself.” Charli looked unfazed. “I’m all grown up, Max. I can handle this all on my lonesome.”

  “Yeah? I don’t think you’re as grown up as you want to think,” Shame fired back.

  Charli reached out and patted Shame’s arm. “It’s okay, sweetie. None of you want to see that I went and grew up on you. But I did.”

  At her touch, Shame froze. It was as if somebody had jabbed him with something sharp.

  Riley scowled at her. She should know better. “Stop it, both of you.”

  “What?” Charli gave him an innocent look.

  Shame stared at the surface of the bar as if it held the answers to the universe and that night’s winning lotto numbers. “You need to grow up, Doc,” Shame said, his voice flat.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me, Max. I am fine.”

  “Enough!” Riley snapped. “Shit, one would think you two were the siblings, instead of me and her.”

  “Oh, relax.” Charli rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving anyway. I need to catch a nap. I go on in a couple hours and probably won’t see a bed for a day or two.”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t decided you needed to cut into people’s brains, you could catch up on your beauty sleep,” Shame said, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  She ignored him and boosted herself up onto the bar to lean over, waiting for Riley to do the same so she could kiss his cheek. “Behave,” he said. “And stay away from Lee if you see him. He’s a jerk.”

  “A jerk?” She pursed her lips. “Or a jerk.”

  “Both.” Riley rolled his eyes.

  “As long as you don’t go telling me I need to date a nice doctor.�
� She blew a kiss at Shame and waggled her fingers as she headed out.

  “Have fun, Doc,” Shame said in a laconic drawl, still focusing on anything but her.

  The hard edge in his voice irritated Riley. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard that tone from Shame before , but Riley didn’t like having it directed at his sister. Shame’s temper could be…volatile. He wouldn’t ever get violent around a woman—he’d cut off his hand, or his dick, first—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a mean son of a bitch.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he demanded.

  “Your sister is just a brat, Ry. She needs to grow up.” He jerked a shoulder in a shrug, then nodded at the bar. “I need a drink. Bad. And we need to talk about last night.”

  “It’s not even ten.” And he had Toby and Bree up in his apartment over the bar. He knew they hadn’t slept well. Bree wasn’t used to the noise and Toby had been hurting. He needed to find a better option but that option had to include him, or maybe his brother. Somebody who could keep her safe if and when Don got out of jail.

  “I don’t care. And trust me, in a minute neither will you.” Shame began to drum a fist on the surface of the bar, looking more restless than Riley had seen him in a long time.

  They had been friends for years. Riley understood Shame’s moods better than most. Con and Shame had been best friends since middle school, but Riley had come to know the man pretty well, especially over the past few years, and there were times when he…got it. Riley had always known that bad shit had happened to Shame, but it wasn’t until the past few years that Riley had begun to understand just how bad that shit had been. It was little wonder he looked into Shame’s eyes and so often saw…nothing. Just emptiness.

  If Shame thought they’d both benefit from a drink, then Riley might as well start pouring.

  With a nod, he turned away, studying the bottles lined up in a pretty little row along the mirrored glass. Then he selected a local craft bourbon he’d been asked to try, and two glasses.

  “So, what’s the deal?” he asked as he broke the seal on the bottle.