F*ck Club: Riley

by Shiloh Walker

  It should have.

  But it didn’t.

  “Evening, Ry.”

  He glanced up at the familiar voice, frowning as enough light shone down to reveal the man’s face. Kyle Mobley, still clad in the uniform worn by all the city cops in Bardstown, moved off the alley path to join Riley by his car.

  “Can I do something for you, Kyle?”

  “Nah. I’m heading over for a bite. Spent all day in the car.” The other man rolled his shoulders restlessly, glancing toward Riley. “Wanted to stretch my legs some so I just walked over from the station. I’ll get my car after I eat.”

  Riley nodded and closed the car door. “Enjoy your meal then.”

  “Everything work out okay with that kid?”

  He didn’t have to ask which kid. With a snort, Riley said, “Hey, you know how guys like Lee are at that age. Always feel like they gotta brag about something, play up something.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle laughed. “It’s funny as shit, him acting like you’re running some sort of two-bit whorehouse in the back of the B&B.”

  Two-bit, my ass. But Riley laughed along with him. “I’m pretty sure most women would think to look somewhere a little less out of the way than this place.” Riley nodded toward the door that led to his apartment. “I’m heading on up. Rough day. Take it easy, Kyle.”

  Two-bit whorehouse.

  He wondered what Kyle would think if he knew that Riley could make as much in three afternoons as he did all month, and then some.

  But the money wasn’t there for the bragging. He used it for the bar. He used it to pay down the loans he’d taken out to help his sister with her schooling—loans she thought were paid with money left over from their parents’ nonexistent life insurance policies.

  She’d graduate almost debt free and for him, it was worth it.

  And he sure as hell hadn’t made that happen, hadn’t kept a roof over their heads or food in their bellies, by doing some two-bit show either.

  Dumb ass.

  Yeah, so maybe he fucked women for money, but they left him happier than they’d been when they came to him.

  He made them feel good about themselves. Gave them pleasure when their husbands seemed to have forgotten such a thing existed.

  Even Candi…

  Thinking of her was a cold splash of water in his face and he stopped, dragging his hand over his eyes. Moving into the sheltering privacy of the small back entrance, he leaned against the door.

  He wanted a fucking drink.

  Sadly, he had only beer upstairs and he wasn’t in the best frame of mind to go face his brother, Shame, or the crowd at B&B.

  Sighing, he shoved off the door and started up the steps.

  He’d just collapse then.

  Collapse into his bed and sleep, and in the morning he’d get up and…

  Do it all over again.

  Deal with the job. Deal with his need for Bree. Deal with the cops that popped in and out of his life too often now.

  He’d deal.

  * * * * *

  Mornings sucked.

  They sucked hard and they sucked even worse when the woman he loved more than his own life was sleeping in his bed just a few yards away, and he was out here on the couch, his cock hard as a rock and his hands all but shaking with need for her.

  He hadn’t seen nor heard from her or Toby since yesterday when the little would-be street brawler had tried to take him on for kissing his mama. Granted, Riley hadn’t had much time to see them.

  It had been past ten when he’d gotten in last night—early for him, but Bree and Toby hadn’t had the best time sleeping.

  He had to figure out something about that, too.

  Before she up and decided to leave.

  He was dead set against that happening any time soon. At least not until he knew that Donnie wasn’t going to be a threat to her. He might feel better about it once he had a talk with the man. A talk that might or might not include physical force.

  While his mornings might suck, he didn’t want to think about how rough Bree’s were. Of course, he was trying not to think about Bree at all just then. He might not have been up as late last night but he sure as hell hadn’t slept. Nightmares had plagued him and when it wasn’t nightmares, it was…Bree.

  Thoughts of her.

  They haunted his every damn waking thought and most of his sleeping ones.

  Like the dream he’d just awoken from—a dream that had been centered on Bree and her naked body, her mouth parted on a moan. If he focused, he could still bring up the image of her, shuddering and shaking, her hair spread across his pillow and a smile on her lips, right before something had jarred him awake.

  It couldn’t be anything in the apartment.

  They were still asleep.

  He strained his ears, trying to pinpoint the sound, but there was nothing.

  His cock pulsed and he groaned, sliding a hand down his belly and reaching inside the loose pants he’d dragged on. Wrapping a hand around his dick, he dragged his fist up, then down, eyes closing as he pulled the dream back to the forefront of his mind.

  He’d always been good at holding the pieces of his dreams together and now wasn’t any different. It wasn’t too hard to fall right back into the place he’d been just before he woke up, and if he let himself, he could picture that his fist wasn’t his fist, but her pussy—wet and slick and tight, squeezing him as he thrust in, driving in so deep and hard, it would feel like they’d never been apart.

  Again…again…

  His imagination pulled up memories of her breathy moans and the way she’d clung to him as he brought her to climax.

  It fed him sensory memories of how she’d smelled, and the taste of her was already imprinted on his soul.

  He thrust his hips up and tangled one fist in the blanket he had thrown over him.

  Teeth gritted, he worked his cock while his mind let him pretend it was Bree riding him, her breasts lifted up to the morning light coming in through the shades.

  The door squeaked open just as he climaxed, the spray of it hitting his fist and the material of the warm-up pants he’d taken to sleeping in over the past few days.

  It took a few seconds to realize that he was no longer the only one awake in the apartment.

  Heart pounding, he turned his head, ready to figure out some way to pass this off to Bree.

  But it wasn’t Bree.

  “Shit.”

  Toby glared at him mutinously. “You shouldn’t cuss around me. It’s rude.”

  Shit. Fuck. Damn. But he sat up slowly, careful to keep the blanket around his hips, one hand fisted around it. Then he nodded at the boy. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Toby blinked, looking surprised. Then he looked back over his shoulder toward the bedroom where, apparently, Bree still slept. His eyes, a sharper shade of green than his mother’s, narrowed thoughtfully and he took a small step toward Riley.

  “I don’t want you kissing her anymore.”

  Shit, is this kid five or fifty?

  But then he thought about Shame and how old he’d seemed as a boy. How uneasy his parents had been around him at first, but then Con had told them about the bruises on the boy’s back and how he thought maybe his dad beat him. Riley had overheard his parents talking, more than once. Toby, like Shame, had been forced to go through more things in his young life than some people ever experienced.

  And here he’d been thinking that maybe Toby had managed to escape mostly unbroken.

  He supposed the kid had escaped, in a way. He was still stubborn and smart and clever, and he wanted to protect his mama.

  As Toby continued to glare at him, Riley ran his tongue across his teeth and debated his answer. He didn’t want to offer one at all. He was sitting there with his trousers wet and the evidence of his self-service a sticky mess on his penis, while an overly mature five-year-old stared him down.

  But the kid had the guts to face him, so Riley felt he owed him the courtesy of a response.

>   “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, kid. I like your mama a lot. And if I get the chance, I plan on kissing her. Every chance I get.”

  “No!” Toby took a few more steps forward, his left hand—the one not injured—curled into a fist. “He did it all the time and then he’d hurt her. I’m not letting anybody else hurt her.”

  “I never would.” Calmly, he held the boy’s gaze.

  “They all do.” His lower lip trembled.

  “Does that mean you will?”

  Tears and anger burned in those green eyes and Toby flinched, looking both embarrassed and angry now. “I’m… What? Shut up!”

  “You’re going to grow up and be a man someday. Does that mean when you like a girl and kiss her, you’ll hurt her?”

  “I’ll never kiss a girl!” For a second, just one, he looked like the kid he was—five years old and repulsed at the idea of kissing a girl, liking one. “You’re gross.”

  “Hey, guys do that sort of thing. Girls like it, too.” He shrugged. He realized his mistake a second later when the anger flitted back into Toby’s eyes. “But that’s when it’s a girl who is with a guy who treats her right. The fact is, Toby, Donnie didn’t treat your mama right. You know that. A lot of people know it.”

  Toby looked away, all the things he wanted to ask, the things he didn’t know how to handle, written on his face.

  “Toby.”

  The kid flicked a look his way, then went back to studying everything but Riley.

  “I like your mama. A lot. I always have. And I’d never hurt her.”

  “Donnie always told her he loved her.” Toby said it in a low voice, a secret not meant to be shared. Something dirty and awful. “Then he’d hurt her and say he was sorry, and then he’d cry. Then he’d do it again.”

  “He was never really sorry, though. And he never really loved her.”

  Before either of them could say anything else, the bed on the other side of the door squeaked. Toby jumped.

  Riley rose, casually hooking the concealing blanket around his hips.

  “I meant what I said, okay?”

  Then he moved into the shower, head pounding and heart aching.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I…um…”

  The soft voice had him looking up from the inventory.

  Bree stood there, shuffling her feet and toying with the strap of her purse.

  She was dressed in trim black pants and a red silk shirt.

  The makeup on her face almost completely hid the bruise and as he watched, she fluffed her hair. The way it fell managed to conceal the rest of the bruise as it spilled up over her eyebrow.

  “I’ve got a job interview.”

  “A job…wait.” Riley shook his head. “I thought you were going to work here.”

  “That’s not what I…” She sighed and looked away. “It’s kind of you, but working in a pub isn’t going to give me the stability that Toby needs. He’s already off his sleep schedule and school starts back in like two months.”

  “Then we’ll get him back on it.” He couldn’t stop the flow of panic that had welled up inside him when she’d told him she was leaving. Leaving. No. What if she went back?

  Her ex was out.

  What if he caught up with her and scared her or hurt her and talked her into coming back home with him?

  His thoughts must have been stamped on his face because Bree closed the distance between them and reached up, catching his face in her hands. “I’m not going back,” she said quietly. “I can’t. If not for me, then for Toby. You were right about that. I won’t go back to that.”

  He saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before—conviction—and he wanted to believe it.

  She leaned across the bar so that even less distance separated them. “You’re always there to pick me up when I fall, Riley. I can’t tell you how much it means. But at some point, I have to learn to stand on my own or I’ll never be able to look myself in the mirror.”

  “Okay.” If there was anything she could have said that would kill the fight in him, it was that.

  This wasn’t just about pride, he realized. She was trying to find herself.

  Who was he to stand in the way of that?

  “You know, I really do need help around here,” he said, crooking a weak grin at her. “It would let me hang out where I want to be anyway—behind the bar.”

  “Then hire somebody.” She eased away, the smile on her face relaxing as she realized he wasn’t going to push the issue.

  “Where’s the job interview?” He focused on the bar, not wanting her to see just how much he wanted to push. He wanted to push. Hard. But it would be useless and pointless and he didn’t believe in wasting his time.

  “Dr. Hartman’s office.” She bit her lip and looked away. “They…um…I interned there during the summer before college, when I was still thinking about nursing.”

  “You mean before you realized that a nursing career often involved things like blood?”

  “Yeah.” She made a face at him. “And thanks for bringing that up. I’ll have you know, I handle blood just fine now.”

  “So if I get banged up, you’ll doctor me up?”

  “Complete with a pink Band-Aid,” she said sincerely. She shivered a little, wrapping her arms around herself. “I know the manager. I feel…bad, taking it. She used to be friends with my mom. We went in to get Toby’s arm looked at and she just kind of casually mentioned they needed somebody up front if I was looking for anything.”

  “Don’t feel bad for taking it. It’s a job. If you can do it, then take the damn job.” Narrowing his eyes, he shifted position, because he’d seen some of the girl she’d used to be edging through the past few days, and that girl wouldn’t have ever let a challenge go unmet. “Of course, maybe working at a doctor’s office, being around the blood and stuff…”

  “Don’t be an ass.” A ghost of a smile flirted with her lips. “I told you. I got over that. Toby made damn sure of it.”

  Then she laughed. “It might have taken him smashing his head open when he tripped running down the sidewalk, or maybe it was when he hit his chin over at Mama’s…”

  Her eyes sobered as she thought of her mother and he reached up. “Don’t be sad. You were laughing. You don’t laugh enough these days.”

  “I’m getting there.” She caught his wrist and squeezed. “I’ve gotta go. The best part about the job…” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve got an onsite daycare. Four other people bring their kids in and the doctor’s wife watches them. She used to be a preschool teacher. It’s part of the job perks. If I get it.”

  “You’ll get it.” He let his gaze drop to her mouth.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He heard it. And as if it was drawing him, he leaned forward.

  “Toby…” Bree whispered.

  The boy had just come out of the bedroom and was watching them.

  Riley reached up and caught her chin, squeezed gently. “A kiss for luck, Bree.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice.

  Then he stepped back and looked over, nodded at Toby. The kid spent more time hiding away from him now than he did talking to him, but Riley was determined to let the boy figure his own way out of this.

  He’d come to trust Riley.

  Both of them would.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The apartment overhead was too quiet.

  It was nine o’clock on Friday night and he hadn’t seen much of Bree or Toby since she’d started training for the job a few days earlier.

  He’d like to think that would change on the weekend. The doctor’s office was closed. He didn’t work the late hours on the weekend.

  But this was his weekend with Marnie.

  Just after ten tomorrow, he’d get all slicked up in a nice pair of khakis, a button down shirt in a color that he knew Marnie liked and he’d drive into Louisville, where she’d meet him at a hotel.

  They’d have lunch, maybe go to a museum, then they’d go
back to the hotel and he’d fuck her senseless.

  Then he’d have to come home and see Bree.

  Maybe they needed another rule—don’t have somebody you love living close by while you’re still taking clients.

  Except he couldn’t do anything else.

  He sure as hell didn’t want Bree living anyplace else and while he had plans to quietly exit his…escort service business…they were still a few months down the road and women like Marnie deserved an explanation.

  An image of Candi’s face flashed through his mind, followed by a sly, ugly thought. She deserved something, too, you piece of shit, and you didn’t take care of her, did you?

  “Hey.”

  Riley glanced up as Shame slid onto the seat across from him at the bar, elbows braced at on the edge, his face even grimmer than normal.

  “Ah…what’s up?” he asked guardedly. He did not want another fucking surprise.

  “That cop was talking to Charli.”

  “Shit.” Riley took the rag he’d been using and wadded it up, throwing it across the bar. It hit the basket that had been left beside the door—others were in doing the weekly cleanup before the big pinball tournament that night and a few whooped as his projectile went in like a perfect three-pointer. But he wasn’t interested.

  Leaning in, voice low, he said, “You saw her?”

  “With my own two baby blues,” Shame said laconically, but the lazy humor didn’t hide the grim note underscoring his words.

  “Fuck. I was hoping she’d lost interest.”

  “If Candi really was her cousin…” Shame shrugged and looked away. Riley had told both Shame and Con what the cop had told him, making it clear this was probably a personal vendetta.

  That didn’t make it better. It made it worse as far as he was concerned, because a cop on the job could only do so much. There were lines they wouldn’t cross.

  A woman with a vendetta was a different matter altogether.