Suddenly, I felt stripped bare. Raw.
The group of paintings she was looking at had been done about a year after the accident, when I was still struggling with my TBI, and I’d been desperately trying to get my brother back.
When I was full of rage and resentment, and frustration.
I hadn’t even let Dane or Bull see these. They felt too personal. Because Cassy was right; every bit of what I’d been feeling back then was on the canvas. Seeing Cassandra look at them, touch them, was like a slap in the face. Startling. Wrong.
But also—fuck—right in a way I was having trouble processing.
A spike of irrational anger—at her, myself—expanded inside me. The way I was feeling when I painted them rushed back. I’d felt fucking helpless. Bull had been locked up, my speech had been so bad I barely spoke, and Dane had been placed in a home he was way worse off in than the one my grandmother provided. He’d tried to pretend he was okay when I was allowed to visit him, but I’d seen the tears in his eyes, had known the people he was staying with were assholes, and I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.
Cassy’s family, her brother, her father, they’d done that to us. I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t get distracted by her tears, or her smiles, or the almost innocent way she touched me. I certainly couldn’t let how sweetly she came apart for me allow me to lose sight of that.
Shit, I felt off balance. Especially when I looked at Cassy again, all soft and rumpled. Guilt rushed me. My anger flared back up. I didn’t want to feel fucking guilty. I sucked in a breath to try and pull my shit together and instead took Cassy’s arms and pulled her to her feet. “This is my apartment, my shit. You’re not in your castle now, Princess. You don’t fucking touch what’s mine unless I say you can.”
She flinched and yanked her arm from my hold.
I hated myself. Hated that I was being an asshole to her, and hated how her family, just the thought of them and what they’d done, could still smash through my control and fuck me up like this.
I swallowed the boulder forming in my throat as she stared up at me dead on, spine ramrod straight.
“Please, accept my apology. I should never have touched your things.”
I fucking hated the uppity tone she was using. It hadn’t taken long to work out Cassy used it like a barrier. And she’d just locked me out. I only had myself to blame. “Cass—”
She pushed past me. “It’s time I left. I have to be up early to exercise the horses.”
I stood there watching her while she dressed, not sure what to do or say. There was no way I could get it together enough to say what I wanted to. There were things I knew I should say to try and make this better, but I couldn’t get the damn words out. I curled my fingers into fists, stunned by the strength of my desire for her to stay. Jesus, I was close to goddamn begging her not to go. That in itself was enough to keep me silent.
What the hell are you doing?
This whole thing, my plan, using her to get back at Lyall. Shit, I’d lost my mind. I couldn’t do it. Fuck, maybe I’d always known it. Maybe deep down I’d used it as an excuse to get closer to her. What did that make me?
And after my outburst, I was pretty sure I’d never see her again.
Something foreign coiled tight inside me.
I tried to open my mouth as she walked to the door, to tell her that she should find another tattooist, that it would be better if I didn’t do the work for her anymore, but nothing would come out. The words got jumbled and twisted before I could get them out of my mouth. Just being around her threw me to the extent that all the hard work I’d done to fucking talk again flew out the window. Because this woman shook all the control I had right out of me.
She walked out the door without looking back.
I stood there for several seconds, every muscle in my body locked tight.
But in the end, I couldn’t stop myself from going after her. I heard the shop door slamming as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I rushed over and threw it open in time to see her get in her car, start it up, and drive away.
I stood rooted to the spot, not sure what the hell had just happened or what I should do next.
Finally, I headed back up to my apartment and over to the painting she’d been looking at. The colors were dark, the brush strokes heavy, angry. Yeah, she was right. The emotion was there, plain to see, and it slammed into me again.
Chris Deighton had come into our lives and fucked them in a way we were still recovering from ten years later. Dane was still messed up after the shit he’d gone through as a kid. And Bull had retreated within himself, unless things got really bad. Then he used whatever bottle was closest to ease his pain.
How could I let Lyall get away with that?
I couldn’t.
I wanted him to pay. I needed it. And if I didn’t stay away from Cassy, she’d end up collateral damage.
I pulled up a stool at The Lucky Mule and watched Bull, face like a thundercloud, stomp around the room.
He finally made his way back behind the bar and aimed his brown-eyed stare on me. He still did not look happy.
“What crawled up your ass?” I said mildly.
He grumbled something, barely paying me any attention as his head twisted on his thick neck, hostile stare fixed on something on the other side of the room.
I followed that stare.
Quinn Parker.
The girl was Bull’s best friend’s baby sister. Quinn had moved to the city not long after her brother, Mason, had left Rocktown, but had moved back a few months ago. Mason had asked Bull to keep an eye on her, and Quinn had been at him for a job ever since she moved back.
Bull hadn’t wanted her “in his goddamned bar” for some reason, but going by The Lucky Mule T-shirt she was wearing and the apron tied around her hips, as well as the tray in her hand, he’d caved.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
Bull scowled harder.
Quinn looked up at that moment, tucking a strand of thick black hair behind her ear, pale gray eyes turning straight to Bull. When she caught him looking at her, she smirked and winked at my cousin. The guy growled.
“Not great, huh?”
Bull turned away, grabbed a glass, filled it with beer, and slammed it down in front of me.
“Outstanding service as always,” I said.
My cousin planted his big mitts on the bar and met my eyes. “What do you think you’re doing fucking around with Deighton’s daughter?” he said in that deep, always controlled voice. Bull was quietly spoken, and with his size, he often didn’t need words to get his point across.
Bull hadn’t looked away, waiting for my answer.
Fuck, I’d hoped he wouldn’t be around enough to get a good look at Cassy, that too many years had passed. But the guy never forgot a face. Ever.
I took a sip of my beer. “It’s not what you think.”
“No? You’re not using her to get to that motherfucker Lyall?”
I shook my head. “What he did to you, to Dane—”
“I went to prison because I fucked up. End of story.”
“You were trying to look after your family.”
Bull shook his head. “You can’t change what’s been. You need to stop what you’re doing.”
“I’m going to keep Cassy out of it,” I said and dragged my hand over my hair, knowing how much bullshit that was. She was already in it. Fuck. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You don’t think hiding who you are while you’re fucking her, then going after her father won’t hurt her? You can’t hurt Lyall without hurting Cassy, and you know it.”
That was a lot of words for my cousin, which meant he was seriously pissed off, despite the lack of volume. And the worst of it was he was right. And I knew it.
Before I could answer there was a commotion across the room. I turned in time to see some asshole with his hand on Quinn’s ass. She shoved the guy away, forcing a smile as she turned to the next table, trying to keep things li
ght.
I shot to my feet, about to go over there, because that shit was not fucking okay, but Bull was already halfway across the room. The idiot was too busy still harassing Quinn to notice Bull bearing down on him, and he grabbed her again.
Bull looked like he was about to commit murder. His growl could be heard across the room, over the music. He fisted the back of the other guy’s shirt and yanked him out of his seat, shaking the shit out of him.
“She say you can touch her?” Bull roared at the guy while giving him another shake. “She give you permission to put your fucking hands on her?”
Quinn’s eyes were wide in shock over Bull’s reaction, along with everyone else in the bar. Including me. My cousin never raised his voice.
The guy in Bull’s fist didn’t get a chance to answer, because Bull was marching him across the room—although march was probably too generous a word since the asshole’s feet weren’t actually touching the floor—and fired him out the door.
Bull slammed it after him and strode back behind the bar, ignoring everyone’s stares, and picked up a cloth. He started wiping down the wooden surface hard enough to take off the varnish.
“What the fuck was that?” The guy needed to be dealt with, no doubt, but that was something else. “Logan?” I said, using his name—not something I did often, but again, what the fuck?
“What are you planning to do about Lyall?” he asked, going right back to our previous conversation like he hadn’t just flung a guy out of his bar with enough force to get the guy airborne.
Okay, fine. He didn’t want to talk. I wasn’t exactly in the talking mood either. “He deserves to pay.”
Bull threw the rag in his hand down on the bar. “I agree, but this can’t end well, not for you, and not for Cassy. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
And didn’t that just fucking suck.
Chapter Ten
Cal
I followed my client out to the waiting room. She was young, and her friend had taken pictures and giggled nonstop while I inked SpongeBob SquarePants on the other girl’s ass.
Dane straightened, gaze lifting from his phone, when we walked out, offering them both a charming but dirty-as-fuck smile. My baby brother had no trouble finding company when he wanted it, and going by the wicked glint in his eyes, he’d just found a couple of new friends. Even with the new black eyes he was sporting.
His eyes came to me and the glint vanished, replaced by a dark emptiness that hurt to look at. I hated it. It hadn’t been there before he was thrown into the system, but now there were demons, ugly and relentless, and I had no idea how to help him. He had so much anger inside him, and his way of dealing with it was usually with his fists.
He excused himself from his new fans and strode over to me. “A minute.” He motioned to my workroom and I followed him in.
Dane spun on me as soon as I pulled the curtain, looking pissed off.
“You’ve been fighting again,” I said.
His nostrils flared. “The fucker was asking for it.”
Jesus. “Sure he was. What do you think Everly would think…if she knew you were in another fight?” Everly Williams was Dane’s best friend and the most important person in my brother’s world. She’d been in the same foster home as Dane. They’d been through a lot together. Now living in different towns, they texted constantly. If anyone could get through to him it was her, and I wasn’t above bringing her up to try and do the same. Because if Dane carried on like he was, Bull wouldn’t be the only Calero to know what it was like to spend time behind bars.
Dane’s jaw tightened, knowing exactly what I was doing. “We’re not talking about me.”
“We sure as hell need to.”
“I’d prefer to talk about you, big brother.”
I frowned when I heard the accusation in his voice, when I took a closer look at him and saw that there was something seriously bothering him—and it had nothing to do with fighting.
“You have another appointment. They’re due any minute,” he said, his golden-brown eyes so damn dark all of a sudden they were almost as black as mine.
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the attitude you’ve got going on.”
“It’s your new friend Cassandra. She called this morning asking for an early appointment. She gave her full name this time,” he fired at me. “You wanna tell me what in the fuck you’re doing with a Deighton?”
I’d hoped Dane wouldn’t work out who she was as well. He’d never had anything to do with the family, had only ever met Chris, and since I’d been dealing with Cassy and her appointment times, he hadn’t needed her name.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Cassy in three days, and knowing that I was going to see her today—shit—my response to that knowledge was visceral. There was a tightening at the back of my neck, my fingers curling and uncurling at the thought of touching her again. “Nothing you need to worry about,” I said.
His nostrils flared. “Whatever fucked idea you’ve got in your head, you need to stop, you hear me?”
I held my brother’s hollow stare. “He’s not getting away with what he did to us.”
Dane’s hands went to his hips and he shook his head. “Don’t include me in your fucked-up plan. I’m trying to forget that shit, move on. I sure as hell don’t want you dredging it all up again. And Cassandra…she must have only been young when it happened—what, fifteen?”
I swallowed. “Sixteen.”
He cursed. “You need to end this, whatever you’re doing, and walk away now. Before it’s too late.”
“He can’t touch us, Dane, not anymore.”
“You need to put the past where it belongs,” he fired at me.
I crossed my arms and held his stare. “You telling me that’s what you’ve done?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped.
“Getting into fights all the time. Christ, Dane. You have a black eye every other week.”
“That has nothing to do with it—”
“Bullshit. What about the nightmares—have they stopped?” A low blow, and I wasn’t proud of myself for mentioning them, but I needed to get across to him why this was so important to me. “The insomnia. How long did it take before you could sleep through the fucking night again?”
“You’re an asshole,” he said low. “And fuck you for dragging all that shit back up.”
“Lyall Deighton has gotten away with too much for too long—”
“You’re not stopping, are you?”
I shook my head. “But I won’t use Cassy to get back at him. I’ll find another way.”
He stared at me for several long seconds then shook his head once. “A bit fucking late for that, don’t you think?” Then he strode out.
I stared after him. He was right, of course. And I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
I ran my fingers over my hair. Shit, I hated fighting with Dane. For the longest time Bull, Dane, and I only had each other, then Bull and Dane had been taken away and I’d been lost.
When we finally got Dane home, the brother I remembered was gone, and he’d never come back. I hated Lyall for that most of all.
All Dane had to do to end this was tell Cassy who I was when she came in, but I knew he wouldn’t. I was his brother, and no matter how much he disagreed with what I was doing, he’d never fuck me over. Loyalty was important to all of us, always had been.
I shoved the curtain open and followed him out. I wanted him to understand. Shit, I was still figuring out the details of the blow I planned on delivering to Lyall, a hit that I was determined wouldn’t ricochet back on Cassy…
I pulled up short.
She was standing over by the couch, looking up at some of my sketches taped to the wall. I felt Dane’s stare boring into the back of my head as I walked over to her.
She stilled when I moved up behind her but didn’t turn around.
“You should have texted,” I said, moving in closer, cautious after the last time we were together but unable
to stop myself. “I would have made sure our appointment was at the end of the day.” My voice had gone husky, gritty, full of need. Having her here late morning meant our time was limited since I had an appointment straight after her. And my afternoon was booked solid. I knew why she’d done it. Her actions spoke loud and clear. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Why don’t you come back tonight instead?” She still hadn’t looked at me. I hated it.
Finally, she turned to face me. Her expression was blank as her eyes lifted to meet mine. “This appointment time will be fine.”
She was using that fucking uppity tone, chin high, back straight. I’d have believed that she was done with me, with us, if it wasn’t for the way her pulse pounded at the side of her throat and how she’d unconsciously moved closer.
“We should get started, then,” I said.
She nodded and walked past me, that spine still like steel. The woman was trying to act unaffected, like what I’d said to her up in my apartment hadn’t hurt her when it obviously had. God, that was nothing compared to what I’d planned to do to her, and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand that I’d hurt her.
I didn’t want any of it, these feelings, the gnawing emotion pounding through me. I shouldn’t have fucking feelings when it came to this woman. I couldn’t, but they were there just the same and I had no idea what to do with them.
I followed her into my workroom, and this time when she took off her shirt she faced away from me. Her narrow back looked fragile, pale, delicate; the colors I’d added to her skin were soft and muted and just made her look even more so.
My cock grew hard as I watched her slide off her bra while images of her straddling me on my couch flashed through my head. Of the way she’d rubbed against me, completely free, zero inhibitions, as she’d gotten herself off grinding against my hard dick. She’d given me the real Cassy, had been giving me glimpses of her since the first time she walked in here, and now she was trying to take her away from me.
I wasn’t going to let her. It was selfish, given what I’d planned to do, but I wanted back what she’d given me. I fucking wanted it back.
Beg For You (Rocktown Ink #1) Page 10