Tough Luck (The Shakedown Series Book 1)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

“How much time do I have?”

  “You're gonna have to find a new place at the end of this month. So, I'll ask around for you, okay?”

  He shook his head and crossed the lot to his car, lowered himself into the front seat, and slammed the door. With any luck, the cat he wasn't supposed to have in his apartment had pissed all over the place.

  He'd been fortunate to find even this place to rent. He'd gotten a line from a guy he’d met in prison. “Go see Stu,” he'd said. “He’s the manager of an apartment complex and has done time. He'll understand what it's like, and he'll treat you fair.” Yeah, until the MacKenna family showed up.

  He waited for anxiety to rear her ugly head. She didn’t, so he supposed that was one win for the day.

  Nathan started the engine. Shit, he needed to check in with his parole officer, didn’t he?

  “Jesus, Nathan, you didn't think to tell me all this before?” The tapping of Erin’s pen came through the phone.

  He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. He should have told her before now that the MacKenna's were hanging around. He cranked the A/C higher as his car idled in his parking lot.

  “We've got a real problem here.” The creak of her chair sounded. “Ruark MacKenna is not on parole. He can go wherever he wants. You can't. Stay away from him.”

  “It'd help if he stopped showing up where I work and where I live.” Or, his now temporary address.

  “You giving me attitude?”

  His blood pressure rose. Of course he had an attitude and no ability to swallow any more injustice. How could she not see the obvious? “They're threatening me.”

  “You got proof?”

  “No. He’s made verbal threats, nothing in writing. He gets others to do the messy stuff. That’s how the MacKennas operate.”

  “Until you have proof, this is going nowhere.” Of course she didn’t believe him. He was the guy who killed a man.

  An odd chill broke out over his skin. “One more thing. I need to find a new place to live.”

  “What's wrong with your old place?”

  “I got notice.”

  “What did you do?”

  His whole body numbed, but thankfully his mouth still worked. “MacKenna threatened the building manager.”

  “He willing to go on record around that?”

  “Doubtful.” The drugs Stu was likely dealing would be revealed. Again, he didn’t have proof, but Stu fit the profile. Nathan understood “profile” now, which disturbed every nerve in his body.

  “Then we're finding you a new place to live.” A keyboard tapping as fast as a snare drum came through the phone. “Best thing you can do is lie low and ride this thing out.”

  Yeah, well, he'd been “riding it out.” The problem was, Ruark MacKenna had other plans, and he wasn’t about to cooperate. He just had to figure out how to keep everyone around him out of it. He killed the call.

  He dialed Starr. He needed to hear her voice.

  “Hello.”

  “Starr.” Thank God. “Headed your way.” He tried to stay calm. He really did. “And, about Moonlight, she's ours to keep.” Ours. “I’m going to find a new place—a better place—that allows cats.” Man, that rolled right out of his mouth despite the fact he wouldn't have a home in less than two weeks, let alone a place for a cat. “Of course, he can be just yours if you want him,” he added.

  “Her.”

  “Yeah, her. Your note said you needed me.”

  “I was hoping you’d come with me somewhere.” She sounded too hesitant, which was not like her at all.

  “Of course. Where?”

  “To see my father.”

  Shit.

  She then explained how she and her sisters had had a huge fight that morning and that she’d “handle the guy once and for all.”

  This was not a good idea, but something was wrong. Then again, “wrong” was everywhere today.

  25

  Starr stared at the Sunset Home sign that boasted the Lao Tzu quote, The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. What a crock. She turned and waved at Nathan. He’d agreed to stay in the car—with some convincing. She loved how he wanted to fight her battles, but this was one she needed to do alone. He only agreed after she said she’d never be alone with the man, which might have been a lie, but no way would deadbeat dad try something here.

  Mimi had met her at the receptionist’s desk. “Why, Miss O'Malley, we weren't expecting you.”

  “He called for me,” she lied. “Okay to see him?”

  Mimi rocked back on her heels and eyed Starr. “You okay, honey?”

  “I'm fine.”

  Mimi didn't look convinced, but with puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, she had to look terrible. Her throat ached from choking back emotion, which did not go unnoticed by Nathan.

  Then there was the message from Ruark MacKenna voice asking her out. First, how did he get her number, and second, like she'd ever speak to that guy again? She should have told Nathan right away. It’s just when she woke that morning, his sleeping face had held such beautiful vulnerability. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, and for one brief minute she glimpsed what he might have been like back in college—full of youthful hope and trust. Then the scar on his cheek twitched, as if he reacted to a dream, and she’d nearly cried at the evidence of the cruelty he’d endured.

  One thing at a time, she’d told herself. First, she’d handle her father. Then, she’d move on to making peace with her sisters. Then she’d fill Nathan in, and together they’d handle whatever was next.

  Mimi led her down to the “common room” as she called it. Starr paused in the doorway.

  The man who’d fathered them stood stooped over, his hand on the windowsill, gazing out on the lawn in the back.

  “Dad? It's me. Starr.”

  He turned slowly, cocked his head. “I know which one you are.” He faced out the window. “You came to tell me to stop calling Luna.”

  “Yes.”

  He finally pushed off the window and turned to her. He wasn't as tall as she recalled, and his shoulders curled forward.

  “Luna made a mistake.” Starr was going to fix this. She had once. She could again. “How much?”

  He chuffed. “My straight shooter. You come all this way just for that? To pay me off to go away again?”

  Ah, so he did remember their not-so-little deal ten years ago. Her chest tightened over the one and only secret she'd kept from her sisters—until very recently. I wanted to see him first. See if he was safe to see. Then I was going to tell you. But he wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. Then, we were done with him, which was good, remember?

  She dropped her purse in a nearby chair. “So, you do remember it.”

  He’d been stone-cold drunk. Kept calling her Cara, her mother's name. Then when he rose from his chair and lurched for her? She'd nearly split his head open with a lamp. He’d ended up sprawled on the hotel’s filthy bedspread, spitting mad, yelling he'd call the cops. So she'd paid him off with all the money she had in the world—three thousand dollars. He took it without a single ounce of remorse.

  His head bobbed up in down in understanding. “You never told them, did you? About coming to see me when you were eighteen?”

  “Seventeen.”

  He grasped his chin. “Yeah, seventeen. Luna keeps referencing how you all were still kids, so I reckoned …”

  He reckoned? “Yes, kids. Taken away. Split up. You remember, old man. We had a deal to keep the details of our meeting secret.” She strode forward so there was only a foot between them. “Luna knows, but you break Phee’s heart again, I swear—”

  “Furthest thing on my mind.” He looked down at his gnarled hands then back up at her. “I hurt you all. A lot. I know that. But I miss my girls.”

  She managed to swallow back the sharp tingles that threatened to cut up her insides. “You miss the past. Vast difference.”

  “Don't you? I mean the early days?”

  Her skin pebbled as he lee
red at her. “No. There is no point missing something you can't have.”

  “I know you want to tell me to go to hell, but don’t bother. I’m already there.”

  She almost said “good,” but stopped herself. Hell was too good for him.

  He eased himself down to a chair and gestured for her to take the one near him. Fat chance. “Luna tells me you have a boyfriend?”

  God, she hated Luna had told him that. Every detail of her life that this man knew felt like a violation, and she’d be damned if anything about Nathan—even just knowing he existed—got shared with her father. She didn’t respond, just stared down at him.

  “What’s his name? He good to you?” he asked.

  Just thinking about Nathan, the way he touched her—possessive but protective, tentative yet sure in his desire—loosened the invisible fist clutching at her heart. His manner around her was her new benchmark for what constituted a good man. “Very.”

  “Good. You make sure he is. Don’t take any crap.” He wagged a finger at her.

  “You mean like Mom did? The way we did as children?”

  His eyes grew watery. “I deserve that. I just …” He stared at his hands, then leaned back in his chair. “Men, when they get overwhelmed? They don’t always make the best choices. They take things out on the people they love.”

  “He would never do that. He’d never hit a woman. He’d cut off his right arm before he’d hurt me.”

  “That’s good.” He sucked his bottom lip into teeth, released it. “That’s real good. Men who hit women—

  “Or little girls.” Her eyes ached from glowering at his lined face.

  “Yeah, well, they’re the worse. Scum.”

  “They are.”

  When he leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, she jerked backward. Her heart stammered, and a distant memory pounded against her forehead as if it wanted out. He’d once lurched at her from that stance, hadn’t he?

  “I know I have no right to ask this, but I’m going to anyway. I’d like to know…” He cleared his throat. “Well, what it’d take for a chance to make everything up to you. To all three of you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

  “It's too late.” God, she wished Luna hadn't pressed to find him. She wished for so much more than ... this. She stepped backward more. “Leave us in peace.”

  “Will that do it?”

  Stupid tears rose up at his question. She’d seen enough Dr. Phil episodes to know that sweeping him under the proverbial carpet wouldn’t erase what he’d done—or its effects. But this? Seeing him again? She stood on the edge of two minds. One part of her wanted to clutch at the opportunity to move on, to hear his apologies, to let her and her sisters finally let go of the past. They didn’t deserve to carry around his sins. They deserved to freely love—not just love in spite of what had happened to them.

  Her other mind wanted to hate him forever because he did not deserve to ever be off the hook. He deserved their hate.

  Her chest ached from the sheer exertion of holding both of those minds at bay.

  One thing was clear. Luna reached for the love. Phoenix reached for the hate. She didn’t know what she was capable of reaching for.

  She longed for Nathan to be here, his big hand around hers, offering support and comfort, but burdening him with this wasn’t right. He had enough of his own nightmares. He didn’t need to deal with hers. It was enough that he was nearby.

  Her father shifted in his seat again. “I was just hoping we might talk now and again. Give me a chance to apologize a thousand times.” He gave her an empty laugh.

  She sucked air inside, willed herself to stay in a mental limbo for a bit longer. Truth was, this decision wasn’t just hers to make, and she had to stop trying to fix everything by herself. “We three have a pact. We don’t make decisions without each other. We stick together.”

  His hands shook as he raised his hand to his hair to scrub his scalp. “That’s good. You three always did.”

  “I need to go.” She turned, but his hand brushed her arm. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the contact.

  “Sorry.” He wisely dropped his arm to his side. “Can you give El … I mean, Phoenix, a message for me? I want to apologize to her. Luna thought it might help. She said your sister wasn’t doing well.”

  The image of Phee, her body nearly lost in layers of white sheets as machine beeps, and hospital noises played a sick symphony, crowded her mind. It had been that last beating that had launched the final child protective services investigation. Hadn’t it? Who could remember the details anymore?

  “You beat her until she was almost dead. I doubt there are any words that will matter at this point.”

  He swallowed hard, and he nodded, short little bobs of his head.

  “Stop calling. Stay out of our lives. That’s what you can do for her.”

  His gaze lifted from examining his hands, and a rush of words spilled from his mouth. “Okay, just tell Phoenix something for me. Tell her, none of it was her fault. It was all me. Tell her she didn’t deserve a single second of my sins. If there is a God, I’ll make sure he knows, right before I’m sent to hell, that you three kids deserve everything that is good for the rest of your lives.”

  She refused to shed the rising tears. It maddened her to the core she might soften on the inside at his little speech, at his obvious remorse. In truth, his words should have given her some relief, as if, perhaps, he understood the depth of pain he’d caused. They didn’t.

  She turned. There was nothing more to say.

  “I’ll wait for you all to reach out to me.” He chuffed, raised his hands, and let them fall back to his lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Just as she was passing through the doorway to go back out in the hall, his voice rose a notch. “And, I’m going to pay you back that three thousand.”

  She paused but didn’t look back. She didn’t believe him, but she was glad he’d at least said it. “Thank you.”

  “And for what it’s worth, Starr. I never stopped loving you or your sisters.”

  Her blood simmered. She glanced back at him. “If you believe that, you don’t know what love is. My boyfriend. He’s the best man I’ve ever met, and he knows what love really means.” She and Nathan hadn’t declared anything like love to one another, but she was certain of one thing—should she ever fall in love and have children, it would be with someone like Nathan, a man who’d never put her in danger, not ever.

  She scooted out, knowing she would never return. Their father may want forgiveness like people in hell want ice water, but wanting wasn’t getting. From now on, Luna could do what she wanted, and so could Phee. She was done being the self-declared messenger and referee for the three of them.

  26

  Nathan bolted out of the car as soon as he saw Starr stride through those sliding glass doors. She ran to him, which was the only thing he needed to know. Big Daddy inside wasn’t so big if he left a woman in tears like those she now shed.

  “I hate to cry.” Her muffled words into his shirt tore him up as much as the wet staining his shirt. If anyone deserved to unload grief, it was this woman. Between sobs, she described the conversation she’d had with her father. The guy’d had the gall to ask for forgiveness. He’d offered her nothing but words—goddamned words.

  He cupped her face between his palms. “I’m taking you home. You don’t ever have to come back here, but if the urge strikes, I’m coming in with you. Non negotiable.”

  She gave him a weak smile and sniffed. “You can’t afford to hit him.”

  “I’ll make sure there are no witnesses.”

  She laughed a little at that, and a sliver of tension eased inside him. She got in the car, pulled out a tissue from her purse, and blew her nose. She pulled on her seatbelt and focused straight ahead. “I’m ready now. I know you need to get to work, and I do, too.” She lifted her cell phone to check the time and let it fall to her lap. “Soon.”

  He started
the car. “Guess what? We’re taking the night off.”

  She rolled her head to the side to look at him. “It will be better if I dance. Otherwise, he wins a little then.”

  Oddly, he understood that. Anytime their lives were interrupted because of another—like her father, like Ruark MacKenna—the nemesis won an inch. Screw that.

  “Okay, but we’re making a pit-stop at my place first.”

  “Oh, right, Moonlight.”

  “No, babe. You.”

  He managed to get home fast without getting a speeding ticket. They had an hour before needing to be at Shakedown, so there wasn’t much time, but he was spending every second of it, making this woman forget everything but him. He lifted her up, pressed her into the shower tiles, and buried his cock so deep inside her warmth that he couldn’t imagine heaven being better than this. Thanks to her, he’d discovered sex was a spectacular way of burning off a shitstorm.

  Her nails dug into his back, and she moaned loudly into his mouth. God, her sounds could make him come on the spot. He pulled himself out, and she murmured a protest.

  “Shhh.” He pushed wet hair off her face. He knelt down in front of her, lifted one leg and hooked it over his shoulder. God, she was beautiful everywhere. Her peach-colored lips shone with arousal. He had to taste her. As soon as his lips met her flesh, he couldn’t stop himself from devouring her.

  She cried out as he sucked and licked her for long minutes. She came on his lips, and he still didn’t stop. Darting his tongue inside, he fucked her anew until her moans grew desperate. He grew desperate. He rose to his feet and wasted no time seating himself inside her again.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  “I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

  She’d called him a gentleman, but there was nothing gentle about what he was going to do to this woman. With his hands protecting her ass, he battered her against the tiles, grinding against her clit until his knuckles ached at the friction. Stopping wasn’t happening though, not until she came again.

  When she did, she called out his name—so full of emotion, his eyes pricked. Only then did he allow himself to spill inside her.