Thorn (Carter Kids #2)

by Chloe Walsh

  “What…Hey – stop,” I hissed, slapping his hands away when he tried to forcibly remove my t-shirt. “What are you doing, you Perv?”

  “Teagan,” Sean shot back, rolling his eyes. “Trust me when I say that you have nothing I want to see. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I grumbled, slapping his hand away when he moved for my shirt again. Forcing Sean to turn around, I stripped quickly and climbed into the tub before pulling the curtain around me. “So tell me why you’ve barged into my apartment and manhandled me into the shower?”

  “I’m staging an intervention,” I heard him call out, and then the sound of drawers clanging open and shut filled the air. “No way in hell am I allowing you to wallow in your own self-pity for another night.”

  “Sean?” I asked nervously, when the sound of a hairdryer roared to life. “What are you doing out there?”

  “We are going to Stephanie’s birthday bash with our friends,” he informed me. “And you are going to be the best dressed female there.”

  “No, I’m not,” I groaned, leaning my head back, letting the water wash over me. “I can’t –”

  “You’re coming out with me, Teagan,” Sean said in a warning tone. “If I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.” Seconds later, a razor was thrust around the shower curtain and into my hand. “Shave,” he ordered. “Everything.”

  LESS THAN TWO HOURS LATER, I was hairless and had been poked and prodded in more places than I cared to remember. Thanks to my flamboyant friend, I was feeling tipsy from our pre-pub drinks and coated in a fresh layer of fake tan and dolled up more than I’d ever been in my life. Sean had insisted on curling my hair so that it was flowing loosely down my back, with little sprigs of glitter and tiny clear colored jewels in it. He had completed my look with smoky eyes and clear glossy lips.

  “Well, you are a miracle worker,” I conceded as I admired myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. Dressed in a short white dress with sky-high beige wedges and a matching beige blazer, I had to admit Sean had mad skills in the style department. “Jesus,” I breathed in amazement, cupping my tiny breasts that looked amazing with the bold plunging neckline of the dress. “I actually look like I have more than fried eggs.”

  Sean threw his head back and laughed. “Your breasts aren’t small,” he assured me as he clamped his hands down on my shoulders and led me back into the kitchen. “They’re perky,” he offered, smothering his laugh with his glass of vodka and coke. “Men like perky.”

  “They do?” I cocked one finely shaped brow and grabbed my glass off the counter before taking a sip. “Name one man who’d take small and perky over big and bouncy?”

  “Oh I don’t know,” Sean teased. “Perhaps a particularly fine-assed fighter kind of man?”

  “Don’t,” I whispered, cringing at the thought. Dropping my head, I felt what small semblance of excitement I had built up disintegrate. “I fucked everything up,” I whispered, feeling more disappointed in myself than I had felt before. “He hates me.”

  “Babe, I am no where near close to being drunk enough for round two of that conversation,” Sean announced, draining the last drop of his vodka and coke and setting the empty glass down. “So just put him on the back burner for tonight,” he added before grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on and heading for the door. “Tomorrow you can go right back to moping around in your pajamas.”

  As I trailed after Sean, a long, thinly shaped box on top of the counter caught my eye. “Hang on,” I called out, making a beeline for the box. “What’s this?” I hadn’t noticed the box being there earlier, but then again, Sean had dumped so much on the counter it made it sort of impossible.

  “Oh yeah, I found that outside your door when I got here,” Sean replied, walking back to me. “I forgot to mention it.” Shrugging, he added, “Well hurry up and open it.”

  Lifting the lid of the box, my eyes widened when I saw the lone red rose inside, with a single thorn on its stem. Resting beside it was a small white card.

  “It’s from Noah,” I whispered, biting down on my lip, cheeks burning. Only Noah would send me a rose that resembled the tattoo he bore on his side. Excitement fluttered inside of me as I picked up the card and read the inscription.

  I’m coming.

  “I’m coming?” Sean, who was looking over my shoulder, asked. “Wow, that’s…romantic?”

  “What do you think he means?” I asked quietly as I lifted the rose out of the box and cradled it to my chest.

  I knew I looked like an idiot, standing in my kitchen clutching a jagged edged rose like it was my lifeline, but to me it was a lifeline. This stupid flower was giving me hope and I couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.

  “It’s beautiful, Teegs,” Sean placated as he took my rose and placed it back in its box. “But I didn’t spend the last two hours slaving away so that we could analyze a fucking flower.” Grabbing my keys and purse, Sean thrust them into my hands before shoving us both out the door of the apartment.

  “What do you think he meant by that?” I asked, struggling to maintain balance in my skyscraper wedges as Sean half dragged me down the stairwell.

  “Maybe it’s a sign,” Sean replied when we got outside. Waggling his eyebrows, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and chuckled. “His way of telling you it’s only a matter of time before he rocks your world again.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I had a definite bounce in my step for the rest of the evening.

  I SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS training like a goddamn animal and punching my way through my problems, fighting my frustrations away. By the time Saturday evening rolled in, all I wanted to do was find Teagan and try and work through this shit bomb of a relationship we had created. Enough time had passed by for us both to cool down, and now it was time to work this shit out. But apparently I didn’t have a say in my plans for the night because Nick Leversteen, the CEO of the MFA had flown in to Cork and was on his way to speak with me in person.

  He was due to arrive any minute and I was dressed like a fucking idiot to welcome him. Honest to god, I felt like I was being pimped out here.

  “Why am I dressed like this?” I growled, glaring at my coach who was responsible for my attire. Pulling roughly at the tie I had on, I loosened it before rolling up the sleeves of my black shirt. I wasn’t a suit man. I was too big and they were always too fucking tight. My arms were constricted in the fabric of my shirt, and my thighs were bulging against the material of my black suit pants as I paced the floor of my suite. I was an ex-con, illegal fighter turned professional fighter – not a fucking businessman.

  “Do you know what this means for your career?” Quincy declared for the fourth fucking time in the space of an hour and I had to resist the urge to strangle him. “Having the big man himself meet you in person?”

  No, I didn’t fucking know what it meant because the stupid old fool hadn’t explained to me what the hell was going on.

  Lucky, who was sitting calmly on the couch sipping on a beer and smoking a cigarette, winked at me. Oddly enough, his calm disposition was having a soothing effect on me and I sank down next to him. Patting my thigh, he passed me his cigarette and I took it gratefully, inhaling a deep drag.

  “None of that shit now, ya hear?” Quincy warned me, swiping the cigarette from my hand and stubbing it out with his thumb and forefinger. “Keep those toxins away from my boy, Lippy,” he growled, glaring at my ex cellmate. “He’s conditioning right now so keep your degenerate antics to yourself.”

  Lucky threw his head back and laughed. “Hear that, Messina?” he asked, highly amused. “General Dickhead thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

  A knock sounded on the door of the suite and I smothered my laugh as Quincy’s expression changed from murderous to enchanted. “Be on your best damn behavior,” he told me, leaning down to rearrange my tie. “And let me do the talking. And you,” he hissed, pointing at Lucky. “Keep your trap shut.”

  Lucky shook his head when Quincy rushed of
f to answer the door. “What fucking ever, man,” he muttered, nudging my shoulder before taking another sip of his beer. “Just be yourself, man.”

  “Nick,” Quincy welcomed. “Long time no see, old friend. Come on in.”

  Standing up, I walked over and greeted the three men standing with Quincy – each one kitted out in finely tailored suits.

  “Noah Messina,” Nick Leversteen announced, eyes alight.

  Ignoring Quincy, he stepped towards me and extended his hand.

  “Nick,” I acknowledged, shaking his hand firmly. I’d only met the boss man once before – back when I first signed with the company.

  “Did you watch my boy’s last fight?” Quincy interrupted, obviously not trusting me to speak for myself. Wrapping his arm around all our bosses shoulder, Quincy led the men over to the couch area. “Impressive, huh? Noah’s got one hell of a left hook.”

  “How’s it going, man?” Lucky acknowledged when Nick took a seat beside him. He tipped his bottle in Nick’s direction before taking a swig.

  Quincy’s face turned purple and I shook my head in amusement as I followed after them.

  No one was changing Lucky.

  Sitting down on the coffee table, I listened to the pleasantries and boring as fuck small talk between the three men and my coach, nodding every once in a while when Quincy gave me the eye.

  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t have a clue what was happening and I cared even less. All I wanted to know was that I wasn’t getting fired, and once I learned the answer to that question – when Nick mentioned a pay rise – I pretty much zoned out, letting my thoughts trail to Thorn.

  Always Thorn…

  Her heartbroken expression, when I left her at the gym, was still in the fore point of my mind – not by memory – because the fucking paparazzi had snapped it. I wondered if she had seen the front page of this morning’s papers. I seriously doubted it because knowing Teagan, she would have thrown a colossal tantrum at the sight of having our private life splashed all over the papers. I was used to it – this was my life now. I’d signed up to being in the public eye, but she, on the other hand, had not...

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, distracting me from my thoughts, and I pulled it out quickly. Checking the screen, I swiped my finger across it and put it to my ear before getting up and walking into the bedroom.

  “Tommy. How’s it going, man?” I asked, sinking down on the edge of my bed. He had stayed in the states, organizing and preparing everything for the tour next week and to be honest, I hadn’t realized I was missing the fucker until he called me.

  “Not good, man.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, tensing up.

  “Don’t freak out okay,” Tommy placated. “I have everything under control…”

  “Tell me,” I gritted out.

  “Your house was broken into last night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Nothing was taken,” he added quickly. “And the cops already have three teens in custody. They’re convinced it was just some overly zealous fans.”

  “Is that it?” Shaking my head, I sagged in relief. “Shit, man, I thought something was wrong.”

  He was silent for a long time and a trickle of unease crept up my spine. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s weird, Noah,” he confessed. “Nothing was taken, but there was…there was something weird about it.”

  “Weird how?”

  “Newspaper cuttings,” I heard him say. “Scattered all over your room.”

  “Cuttings of what?” I asked him, confused.

  “Of you, man,” he told me. “From yesterday’s papers right back to your arrest seven years ago.”

  “Well shit,” I muttered. “Cole?” I asked, thinking it might be an intimidation tactic on my competition’s behalf.

  “Not his style,” Tommy replied without hesitation. “I’m just… look, I could be completely wrong when I say this, but I think you need to watch your back.”

  “You think it’s someone from before?” I asked, frowning.

  “I can’t say for sure, but there were pictures of you and Teagan,” Tommy whispered. “Pre-jail pictures, man. Why would anyone from your present have those?”

  “What kind of pictures?”

  “Stills of you and her in the elevator that night.”

  “Fuck.” I knew that fucking CCTV footage would come back to haunt me someday. “The press?”

  “They’re already on it, man. It’s everywhere here,” he told me. “Should be reaching your side of the world by the a.m. And another thing,” he added in a low tone. “There’s been some…talk around this neck of the woods.”

  “About?”

  “The Ring of Fire being back up and running.”

  “God fucking dammit, Tommy!” Jerking to my feet, I paced the floor as my skin heated with anger. “He’s back in business?”

  “Should I call the cops?”

  “And sign your own death certificate?” I shook my head and snarled. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned him. “Involve the police, Tommy, and you won’t make it through the night, man. That prick has eyes and ears everywhere.” I knew that better than anyone. There was a reason the Ring of Fire had gone undetected for so many years; brown envelopes and dirty cops.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked nervously.

  “Go about business as usual,” I instructed him. “Keep your head down and your goddamn mouth shut.”

  “Noah, I’m…” his voice broke off and guilt churned inside of me.

  “I know, man,” I whispered. “I don’t blame you.”

  “Messina!”

  Growling in agitation when I heard my name being called, I spoke in a low tone, “Look, I know you’re scared, man, and you should be. But whatever you do, Tommy, do not go to the cops –” I paused mid-sentence when Quincy poked his head around the door.

  “Come on, kid,” he told me, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Nick wants to hit the town to seal your brand new deal.”

  “I’m coming,” I told him, waiting for him to leave before putting the phone back to my ear. “Tommy, I have to go,” I muttered. “I’ll be back in a few days and I’ll sort it out. But just…just hang low until then.”

  “Be careful, Noah,” Tommy whispered down the line.

  “You too, man,” I replied before knocking off the call and sinking down on the bed. Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my thighs and covered my face with my hands.

  One phone call and I was reminded of exactly why I didn’t get close to anyone. There was no getting away from my past. There was only one way this was ending. Either he died or I did. There was no other way around it.

  The bedroom door creaked open again but this time it was Lucky. I watched as he closed the door behind him before walking over to the bed and sitting down beside me. He didn’t speak a word or ask me any questions. He just waited.

  “JD’s back.” I choked out when I was ready to talk.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked in a quiet tone, looking me straight in the eye. “Can’t sit back on this, man,” he added, knowing all about my past. Hell, he’d had five long years in a jail cell to learn all about it. “We need to deal with this – get him before he gets you.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” I whispered, “I’ll sort this on my own.”

  “We will sort this,” Lucky corrected me, eyes flashing with anger.

  “I can’t ask you to get involved in this, Lucky. It could cost you your life, man,” I growled, jaw clenched. “You don’t know the kinds of people JD’s mixed up with. He has people everywhere.” I knew first hand about JD’s pull. Money talked and power was pull. JD Dennis had both. “Dirty lawyers. Bent cops. Indebted inmates. There’s a reason he wasn’t caught all those years ago.” Exhaling heavily, I whispered, “You don’t know him like I do, man. He gets in your head.” I tapped my temple in frustration. “Takes away everything fucking good until all that’s left is the bad.”

  Memories of my mother l
ocked away in that institution flooded me and I jerked to my feet. “You don’t want any part of this,” I told him as I paced the floor. “Trust me.”

  “You seem to have confused me with a man who has something left to lose,” Lucky snapped, standing up and shoving me hard in the chest. “All I got in this whole damn world is you, Noah. And I’ll be fucked if I sit back and let you handle this on your own. So it’s like I said earlier, what’s the plan?”

  If this was anyone else I wouldn’t think twice about refusing their help, but Lucky could handle himself. He’d seen the ugly side to life. He knew what it felt like to drain a man of his life, and he would do it again without a second’s hesitation if I asked him to, and he knew that I would do the same for him. That was a fucking bond like I’d never experienced before. It was like he said; he was my brother.

  “It’s gonna be close to impossible to find him,” I told him. “He has a remarkable talent for going to ground and disappearing.”

  “Fair enough, but you’ve got one thing going for you that you didn’t have before,” Lucky replied, strategizing. “You’re Noah fucking Messina. You’re a celebrity man, in the public eye. JD can’t get to you directly and he knows it, which means…” He paused mid sentence and shook his head.

  “Which means?” I demanded, heart hammering in my chest.

  “Which means he’ll have to use another method to flush you out,” he replied in a flat tone. “He’s gonna bait you, man. Spider web tactics. Have you come to him.”

  “Bait me with what?” I hissed, furious. “Those fuckers took everything from me seven years ago.”

  “I can think of one exception,” Lucky shot back. “Teagan.”

  “No!” I shook my head, rejecting the thought that I had once again put her in danger. “No goddamn way. It’s been seven years. She’s off their radar.”

  “You sure about that?” he countered. “It’s like you said, Noah, no one is ever truly off their radar, not men like JD, so why would he forget about the girl you walked away from his father for?” Shaking his head, he sighed heavily. “I hate to tell you, man, but whether you want to admit it or not, that woman is your kryptonite and your enemies know it. That makes her the only target.”