House of Payne: Styx

by Stacy Gail

  She stilled, her hand falling away. “Wow. Okay. I guess it wasn’t that difficult to explain, after all.”

  “I’ll come up with a design.” He sat back in his seat, looking satisfied, and if his slow, heated smile was any indication, his satisfaction stemmed more from her than the food. “I think the back would be a good placement for your phoenix.”

  That brought her up short. That was a lot of skin he was talking about. “Like, on a shoulder blade, or maybe the nape of my neck?”

  “Let’s get something straight right now. Simply put, I’m a fucking genius when it comes to art. My creations are meant to be seen, so I refuse to put any of my work on the nape of the neck, unless you decide to shave your head. And you’ll do that over my dead body,” he added so grimly she had no choice but to believe he was serious. “You’ve got the most gorgeous head of hair I’ve ever seen, so if I have my way, you’ll never cut your hair again.”

  It was ridiculous how happy that made her. “Sorry, pal. Rapunzel’s not a look I’m crazy about.”

  “Too bad. And as for the placement of your phoenix, I’m thinking the middle of your back. The wings would arc over the upper curve of your shoulder blades, and the fiery tailfeathers would flow down toward the small of your back.”

  “Holy crap,” she whispered, torn between excitement and alarm. “Do you have any idea how huge that’s going to be?”

  “I’ll have to take some photos of your back so that I can digitally put together a mock-up of how I want it to look. Only then will I be able to tell you how big it’s actually going to be.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” she said, exasperated. “Styx, I’ve never had a tattoo before. Isn’t there some postage-sized, entry-level tattoo a newbie like me would get?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “No worries, we’ll do it in a bunch of little, bite-sized sessions. You’ll be fine.”

  “What if I don’t want to get a tattoo that covers my whole freaking back?”

  Thankfully, he seemed to give that some thought. “Tell you what. The design I’m going to create for you can be sized up or down, so get that freaked-out look off your face. We’ll take some photos of your back, and then mess around with the size and placement. Though I know you’re going to love what I’ve got in mind for you, and since I’m the expert on this, I’m hoping you’ll at least give me a chance to show you what I’ve got in mind. I promise I’ll take care of you, trust me on this.”

  “I do.” The words were out before she gave them a thought, which made her realize how true they were. She trusted Styx. With her skin, and so much more.

  She opened her mouth to expand on that when a brick smashed into the window next to where she sat.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re lucky, Syd. Most businesses have high-impact safety glass because, well… It’s Chicago.” Trey wandered over to where Sydney stood by his patrol car with Styx, who held her clamped to his side. Thankfully Styx had given up trying to keep her seated on the bumper of the attending ambulance, but there was no reason for her to stay there when they’d already taken care of the cut on her cheek with Steri-Strips. It wasn’t that big of a cut, just a surgical slice from a chunk of glass that had ejected from the spiderweb-like break in the glass.

  Styx, though, had acted like she’d suffered a near-death experience the moment he’d seen blood on her face.

  “Lucky?” Beside her, Styx snarled the word as if his brother had spoken a profanity. “Take a fucking look at her, dumbass. When you take your woman out on a date to your favorite restaurant, does she come out of it bleeding?”

  “I’m just saying it could’ve been worse. Don’t forget, it could’ve been a bullet instead of a brick.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, now I know I got all the brains and talent while we were in the womb.” Styx scowled at his twin, while in Sydney’s mind, the mental image Trey’s words conjured up made all the food she’d ingested look for a speedy way out. “Think before you open your damn mouth and say shit like that in front of Sydney.”

  “Look, I’m trying to be supportive, all right? The brick didn’t make it through the glass, and in my eyes that’s a good thing. A brick’s bad enough, but something like a bullet would’ve splattered her all over the fucking restaurant. That’s why I’m saying it’s a lucky thing she only walked away with a little nick on her—”

  “Styx, don’t!” Sydney’s shout ripped her throat raw even as Styx grabbed up the front of his brother’s uniform and dragged him up until they were nose to nose.

  “You say shit like that in front of other crime victims, asshole?” Styx wanted to know in a voice so low and dangerous it terrified the hell out of her. “You tell them how lucky they are they didn’t die horrible deaths until they’re so freaked out they start shaking like a damn leaf? Does it make you feel like a man to scare someone like that, after they’ve already been put through a fucking wringer?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sydney saw a rush of cops head their way. Horror filled every cell in her body, and instinctively she put herself between them and Styx, arms spread out wide. “Please, don’t shoot! They’re just brothers being brothers!”

  The knot of cops stopped as one, and she heard the brothers behind her mutter in unison, “Shit.”

  The oldest within the gaggle of cops stepped out of the crowd, and she realized through the fog of terror and shock that he was dressed in civilian clothes. His hair was iron gray with a mustache to match, and as he approached, he held up hands the side of pie plates.

  “Easy, miss.” He spoke soothingly, as if she were a wild animal that had gotten free from the zoo. Just the sound of it was enough to drag her back from the edge of hysteria, but the uneasy shifting of the brothers behind her rattled her all over again. “Easy, now. No one’s going to shoot anyone, even when they’re acting like such idiots, they force you to put yourself between them and what you thought was a pack of trigger-happy cops. For the record, these people aren’t trigger-happy. Every cop around you right now is either a friend or family of your boyfriend, Styx. Just take a breath now, okay? I can see you shaking from here.”

  That didn’t surprise her in the least, she thought, even as Styx snaked an arm around her to once again clamp her to his side. “F-friend or family?”

  “That’s right. And right now I’m more your friend than I am their family, because these two fucking lunkheads made you protect them against what you believed was certain death, even though you’re the victim of a crime. In my book,” he added, and his tone changed to ice-edged fury as he looked to Styx and Trey, “that’s not only goddamn weak, it’s fucking unforgivable.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you weren’t going to shoot Styx,” Sydney blurted, on the verge of bursting into stressed-out tears. Before she could get another word out, Styx gently put a couple fingers to her mouth.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry, Fun-Size.” Belatedly it registered that Styx’s gentled tone was identical to the older man’s, and she couldn’t help but lean into him when he pressed his mouth against her temple. “You don’t need this shit right now. Trey and I are old enough to control ourselves long enough to get somewhere private before we try to rip each other to shreds, so that’s on us.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, Syd,” Trey offered, looking uncomfortable. “And, uh, I was just trying to silver-line it when I mentioned, you know… the possibility of you getting splattered all over the restaurant. I swear, I was just trying to lighten things up because you looked so upset. I probably shouldn’t have said what I said. Or, uh, talked about how bullets would’ve been so much worse than a brick.”

  “Jesus,” the older man muttered, looking like he wanted to rip Trey to shreds himself. “All right, Miss Bishop. You’ve clearly had enough from the lunkhead twins. I’ll see you home.”

  “She came with me.” Styx’s arm tightened around her. “She stays with me.”

  “You have a choice, kid,” the older man snarled with so much fe
rocity it made Sydney catch her breath. “Either you follow along in the ‘Vette to make sure this old man can get your woman home safely, or you ride along with me. But one thing is certain. Things are going to be done by the book, starting now. That means I’m escorting the victim of this incident home personally, with a squad car trailing behind. The pair of you have done enough to this poor woman for one night.” With that, the older man held out his hand. Styx glared all sorts of murder at him before handing her off to him.

  “You’ll want to stay with her once I get her home,” the older man said, and it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “No galivanting off to pick up your car so you can go out looking for trouble, you hear me? Leave it to the police.”

  “You’ve already made your point loud and clear with this little stunt,” Styx muttered darkly, and he took her other arm as they headed up the sidewalk. “Obviously you’re pulling this shit to separate me from my ride while I’m so goddamn pissed I can hardly see straight. Manipulative old geezer.”

  “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about, kid,” came the unruffled reply, though the smirk beneath the mustache said otherwise. “I just know that a smart man stays by his woman’s side to protect her, while letting the professionals do their fucking job. Since you’re such a smart man, that’s what’s going to happen. You can pick your car up tomorrow, after you’ve cooled down.”

  “I’m cooling down now.”

  The older man chuckled. “Shit, you’re hilarious, kid. Keep it up. I need the laughs.”

  In a cloud of confusion, Sydney walked in silence between Styx and the older man, and her eyes stayed on Styx as he waited for her to be placed in the backseat of a dark blue Lexus parked a few spaces down. In a handful of seconds he slid in beside her, his mouth a grim line as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his side. Numbly she watched as the older man got in behind the wheel, checked his mirrors, and eased out into the flow of traffic. Only then did her brain start to show signs of life.

  Who the hell was this guy?

  What had he done that was so manipulative that Styx felt it necessary to call him on it?

  How did he even know who she was?

  And where the hell had her voice gone?

  “This takes me back,” the older man announced in his deep, comfortable voice before she could figure out which questions she needed to ask first. “I drove Styx on his very first date to the state fair, way out in frigging Springfield, if you can believe it. How old were you, Styx? Twelve?”

  “Yeah,” Styx muttered while she continued to stare at the older man in confusion. “Syd, this is my dad, Arthur Hardwick. Dad, Sydney Bishop.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly. That explained a lot. “I guess that’s why you and Trey were okay with him calling you the lunkhead twins.”

  “He’s literally the only man who could get away with that, and with bossing me around like he just did. Gotta say,” he added in a dangerous tone as he shot a scowl at the man reflected in the rearview mirror, “after the night we just had, I’m trying real hard to not fucking resent that shit.”

  “After the night you just had, I want to do my damnedest to make sure of two things, kid,” Arthur Hardwick rejoined calmly, keeping his eyes on the traffic. “One, I want to make sure Sydney Bishop is seen to be personally escorted by me, former Assistant Chief of Police, with all the bells and whistles that are at our disposal just in case she’s got eyes on her. And two, I want to make sure I got you immobilized for a few hours, at least until the need for blood is no longer flashing in your eyes. I don’t want you going out shaking Chicago by its heels, and then murdering whatever happens to fall out.”

  The growl that came from Styx was barely human. “The thought’s crossed my mind.”

  “You think I don’t know that? You’re my son. Hell, it’s exactly what I’d want to do if I were in your shoes. It’s still kind of what I want to do right now, and every relative you’ve got on the force feels the same damn way. One of ours is being attacked, and this can’t be allowed. As of now, it’s fuckin’ war.”

  The smile that curled Styx’s mouth chilled her to the bone. “Good.”

  “No, not good,” Sydney said, finally struggling through the worst of the shock and dismay to come back to life. “Are you listening to yourselves? War? War is death and destruction. Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

  “Not for one of our own,” Arthur said as calmly as if they were talking about the Chicago Bears and their chances for the upcoming season.

  “But I’m not one of yours. I hardly even belong to my own family, much less yours. You don’t even know me.”

  “Miss Bishop, I know all I need to know about you.”

  She shot a questioning glance Styx’s way. “Uh…”

  “Styx hasn’t told us a damn thing about you, except that he wanted to bring you around for dinner tomorrow night. A first for him, so from that alone I get that you’re someone special,” Arthur explained, clearly spotting her look at Styx via the rearview mirror. “I just didn’t understand how special until I saw you in action tonight.”

  She shook her head, but it didn’t help. The man still wasn’t making any sense. “Tonight? I’ve basically been a frozen mannequin tonight, I’ve been so totally numb with shock. Well, that, and upset that glass got into Styx’s leftovers and ruined them for him.”

  A snort of laughter escaped Styx even as he laced his fingers through hers. “Holy shit, you’re upset about that?”

  “You were looking forward to those leftovers, and that stupid brick took that away from you. Of course I’m upset about it, and I’m so sorry that happened.”

  “Don’t.” His fingers squeezed hers, and he leaned over to kiss her uninjured cheek. “Don’t start stress-apologizing, Syd. Once you start, it’s hard for you to stop.”

  “My boy found himself a treasure,” Arthur murmured to no one in particular as he turned onto a street that headed straight for Old Town. “Like I said, Miss Bishop—”

  “Sydney, please.”

  “Sydney.” Via the rearview mirror, he gave her a smile of thanks. “Like I said, I know all I need to know about you, because of what I saw you do tonight.”

  She blinked. “What I did tonight? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You jumped in front of Styx to protect him when you thought he was going to be gunned down by the police. Any woman who’ll instinctively do that for her man is a treasure beyond price, so that’s all there is to it. You’re one of us, so by God, no one is allowed to fuck with you.”

  “Might as well drop it, Syd,” Styx advised, and there was laughter in his tone as he again brushed her cheek with his lips. “The Hardwicks have circled the wagons around you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And speaking of protecting her,” he went on while she struggled to find the right answer for that, “just drop us off at my place, yeah? She’s not going to be staying in her apartment from now on.”

  “Wait, says who?” The last wisps of freak-out fog left her brain, and she straightened in her seat. Her life might be one crazy event after another, but she could at least try to control the in-between parts of it. “My building’s as safe as the next.”

  “You don’t have a doorman who was on the job for twenty years. I do. But that’s not the biggest issue when it comes to your safety. What floor do you live on?”

  Hadn’t she told him? “Second floor.”

  “What floor do I live on?”

  Aha. “The thirtieth.”

  “Remember what Trey said about bullets?”

  “I’ll live and die trying to forget what Trey said about bullets.”

  “Bullets could make it through a second-floor window from the street, no problem. But whoever’s after you would have to be friggin’ Spiderman to get a clear shot all the way up to where I live. This isn’t negotiable,” he went on when she opened her mouth to do just that. “As of now, I’m not trusting any windows under ten stories. My place is just across th
e street from yours, so once it’s daylight and there are plenty of witnesses around, we’ll hop across the street to pick up whatever shit you need. But for tonight, it’s my place for you, and that’s that.”

  She waited a beat. “You really think that tone’s going to work with me?”

  “I’ve got high hopes.”

  “You’re lucky I’m too tired to do anything but take the path of least resistance. Otherwise, you’d be walking back to your car right about now. Looks like we’re going to Styx’s place,” she added to Arthur. “Since it’s right across the street from mine, I can always skip out on him if he keeps being a jerk.”

  “My boy found himself a sassy treasure,” Arthur semi-repeated on a chuckle. “Damn, this should be fun.”

  Fun wasn’t something she would call it, Sydney thought a few minutes later as they walked into Styx’s apartment. Her life was in total upheaval. Her first date in months had wound up with a brick crashing through it, and she still had no idea who was behind the mayhem or how they’d found her. On top of that, she now had a gorgeous, inked-out bossy-pants man telling her where she could and couldn’t go like he had every damn right to do so. The only thing good that had come out of tonight—and it wasn’t really good at all, in her opinion—was that she now knew the incident on I-90 wasn’t a random act of road rage. Someone was really gunning for her.

  Fun?

  Not freaking likely.

  “I’ve just got the one bedroom, so it’s all yours,” Styx announced, returning to her after he’d gone around his apartment turning on lights. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sparkling diamond lights of the city sprawling below them ran right up to the curving, inky-black coastline of Lake Michigan. “You good with sleeping in one of my shirts? We’ll get your shit from your place tomorrow, but I think for tonight you’ll be comfortable enough sleeping in something of mine.”

  She glanced at his couch, a nice, long thing that she’d easily fit on. Not him, though. “Where are you going to sleep?”