Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1)

by India R. Adams

  Bailey. She will always come first.

  As four surrounded me, I took my stance, feeling the bandage on my tat tighten. By no means was I a Muhammad Ali, but if my fist made contact, it was guaranteed the other person would feel it. Stay out of my reach, boys.

  They must have been hungry because they started in on me quickly. It was hard to punch the way I’d been trained to do when I was hit from behind. All I could do was take out the ones who dared face me like a man. One left hook caught a fool in the jaw, and his eyes told me he was already bowing out. He held his face in shock as he backed away from me.

  And I’m holding back, motherfuckers.

  I took another hit to my back.

  Cowards.

  They tried to gang up on me and hold me back but only succeeded long enough for me to take one punch to my jaw. When another of Jerry’s followers ended up in front of me, he received the brunt of my anger about the cheap shots I’d been receiving. My right hook landed directly on the left side of his face, and he hit the ground. I flew forward as someone tackled me from behind, but luckily, I was able to stay on my feet. I wasn’t a wrestler; my strengths were not on the ground. I reached over my shoulder and pulled as hard as I could while taking more hits to the kidney.

  The guy I had pulled on came flying over my shoulder, his eyes wide. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes as I spun and faced the ringleader—motherfucking Jerry.

  His persistence had me asking, “How long have you wanted her?”

  He smirked. “Long time.”

  Then it dawned on me: even while Kenny was alive.

  He added, “And I ain’t done trying.”

  Wrong answer. I warned, “First, back away from me, or I will floor your ass. Second, come near her again, and next time, you won’t get up.”

  Jerry looked around at his friends on the ground then slowly nodded and began to turn away. My father had taught me better than this, but I put my back to my enemy, thinking it was over. I wanted to check on the one guy who had been introduced to the dirt, compliments of my fist. While I was bending over to see if I’d knocked him out, Jerry’s right fist came down on me—straight to the back of my head. I went to my hands and knees, stunned. He prepared to kick me, but I rolled away and jumped up to my feet. And boy, was I pissed!

  “You’re a pussy!” I yelled. My highly trained footwork took me forward faster than Jerry was anticipating, and I swung. My fist landed… down he went.

  “Holy shit!”

  I spun around, ready to block any other cheap shots headed my way. Tuck’s hands flew up. “Easy, Maverick. It’s me. Viola said she thought something was going down when you lied to Delilah. Just coming to back you up, but…” He paused as he and his friends looked around. “I see we’re not needed. Damn, kid, where’d you learn that shit?”

  My adrenaline was thick, making me shake. “My pops.”

  Guys were getting up, shame firmly intact. “Motherfucking Jerry,” Tucker sarcastically sang out. My thoughts exactly. Tucker proudly smirked at Jerry. “Not looking so good. I think you tripped and should watch where you’re walking next time. You feel me?”

  Jerry nodded, understanding the fight was to be kept under wraps, as he and his friends limped away.

  Old fears came back to me. Every time people discovered I was a boxer, girls tended to either think I had a small dick and a huge ego or that I was edible and they wanted a bite. I didn’t want Delilah to think I was a hotheaded fool since she hated guys who resorted to fists. I begged Tucker, “Please, don’t tell Delilah.”

  “Don’t really know what to tell, yet. You a fighter?”

  “Was. Was a boxer.”

  Tucker watched my victims scurry away. “Looks to me like you might still be one.”

  I said, “You know how Delilah feels about this shit.”

  Tuck’s friend Larry watched Jerry and his minions leave. He patted Tucker’s shoulder. “Umm, if this is the result of your boy holding back, I’m definitely never hitting on your sister now.”

  Tucker grinned, eyeing me. “Smart move, Larry.”

  I said, “Come on, man! I just got her! I don’t want to lose her ’cause of some dickhead forcing me to beat his ass.”

  After a moment of thought, Tucker said, “Mum’s the word, but be careful. She has no patience for deception, either.”

  “Nor is she the type to cause fights just to see me punch for her honor?”

  Tucker chuckled. “You already know that answer.”

  I do. She would never do that.

  Over Delilah’s shoulder, Viola saw us coming from the woods. I put my hands together, begging her to cover for me. She put her arm around Delilah and walked her away, giving me a moment of distraction so I could pull my shit together. Cole, Hu, and Bryce rushed up to us. Cole asked, “What the fuck hit your face?”

  I wiped my mouth. Blood. Damn it.

  Tucker’s friend handed me a towel with ice. Larry said, “Your playmates left with tails between their legs.”

  Cole went defensive, just like a good friend would. “Who?”

  Hu’s buzz had him easily fired up. “Tell me.”

  Tucker kept finding this funny for some reason. “Settle down, pups. Our boy won.”

  After I calmed down, beers were going smoothly down my throat once again. Tucker had wandered off, and his friends were hitting on any female with a heartbeat. I was thankful for Bryce volunteering to be the DD for the night. Viola took the same role, so Jaz could let loose like me.

  What a great couple.

  It was odd, but in the midst of all the fun and chaos, I thought of Bailey. I loved the freedom of the night and the unexpected battle that had fired up my engines, but I was, shockingly, missing my Peanut. I told myself she was safe and sound at home, snuggled in her bed, and that I should live it up. I was going to do just that until I heard Cole warn me, “Incoming. Pretty D.” He quickly took my beer right before I felt Delilah jump on my back. I could tell she was headed toward sloppy drunk.

  “Hiii,” she slurred.

  I held the legs she wrapped around my waist and said over my shoulder, “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yeeess, just wanted a rest.”

  “Need a chair?”

  “Noopppe. I’ve got you!”

  “Yes, you do,” I intensely agreed. “Yes, you do.”

  Suspecting my girl was going to be in need of me watching over her, I knew living it up was done for the night and told Cole to drink my beer. Delilah’s face snuggled into my neck. “Thank you.” I had no idea why she thanked me.

  Seeing how Delilah planned to stay on my back for a while, I asked, “Jaz, is her butt hanging out of her illegal shorts?” Delilah’s giggle vibrated on my back.

  After inspecting, Jaz slurred, “Suuure is.”

  The thought of drunks gaping at Delilah’s incredible ass was not comforting to my buzzed brain. Being already amped from a fight wasn’t helping either. My jealousy must have shown in my expression because Viola walked up, asking, “What’s eating Gilbert Grape?”

  I was thankful for a sober person, but before I could say a word, Delilah happily announced, “Maverick doesn’t like my hiney showing.”

  Viola smirked. “Taking this new boyfriend role to heart, Mavy?”

  “Viola,” I growled. “Please. She doesn’t want down off me. Find a way to cover—it.”

  Viola was very amused as she took off her overshirt. “All right, Romeo. Settle down. Viola to the rescue.” She moved behind me. “God, she does have a gr-eat ass.”

  Down, boy. Down. Through my gritted teeth, I said, “You’re not helping me.”

  Tucker walked up to us and asked Delilah, “You okay?”

  She nodded and said, “Just taking a break.”

  He asked Viola, who was doing something with her shirt and Delilah’s butt, “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to calm down the overprotective bear carrying Delilah. Apparently, he’s not interested in male eyeballs gaping at her perfect
butt cheeks generously hanging out of her Daisy Dukes.” Viola patted my shoulder. “Achilles heel fixed. Not a cheek in sight. Better, besty?”

  I was expecting attitude from Tucker, who probably thought all I wanted to do was fight, but instead he said, “Well, didn’t that just earn you a brownie point with the big brother.”

  Delilah’s head lay on my shoulder as she happily groaned, “Brownies.”

  Tucker asked his sister, “Want me to take you home?” Delilah’s arms tightened around my neck. I coughed through her choking me. Tucker quickly said, “Ease up, Delilah. Okay, you’re staying.”

  Her arms relaxed as she slurred, “Don’t take him from me.” I knew she was drunk, but it still warmed my heart until I heard her say, “I don’t want to lose another one.”

  Our friends looked at the ground, uncomfortably silent.

  Tucker’s shoulders slumped. “You won’t lose another, baby.” He came to my other shoulder and whispered, “When she passes out, I’ll take you both home.”

  “Where’s June?” I asked.

  “Oh, I accomplished pissing her off again, so she hightailed it out of here.”

  We stood around talking with everyone, waiting for Delilah to close her eyes. My mind was trying to sober up for her. Jaz was beyond tipsy and taking pictures with her phone of Delilah on my back. Jazebelle looked cross-eyed at her phone. “Oh no—Delilah’s eyes are closed in this pic. Delilah, wake up—”

  Tucker rushed to her, whispering, “No, Jaz, we want her to sleep.”

  Jazebelle looked so cute and confused. “But we’re part-y-ing.”

  Viola used the squirrel technique to distract her. “Jaz, will you take a pic of me and Bryce?”

  It worked. “Sure!” squealed Jaz before stumbling off with the happy designated-driver couple for a photo shoot. This gave us enough time to escape with Sleeping Beauty. Tucker and I waved to the sober ones and headed to his car.

  On the way, we passed Nash and Nelson, who were just approaching the party. “What up, double trouble?” said Tucker.

  “Hey. You already headin’ out?” asked Nash.

  Nelson was too busy scouting the party behind us to focus on the conversation.

  Tucker answered, “Yeah. Lilah tied one on.”

  “Unusual,” commented Nash.

  “See ya around,” said Tucker.

  As we walked away, I heard Nash quietly say to his brother, “Find her?”

  “Yep, with Bryce and Viola.”

  “Is she drunk?”

  Nelson sounded pissed, “Sure fucking looks that way.”

  Once at Tucker’s car, I asked, “What’s up with all that?”

  Tucker rolled his eyes. “I don’t ask, but my imagination takes me into threesome land.” He put his hands under Delilah’s arms and tried to pry her off me, but as he pulled her away to put her in the car, she woke, and something triggered in her drunken mind, and she lost it.

  “Nooo! NO! Maverick!” She reached her arms out for me. I quickly spun around to her.

  Tucker had her in his arms. “Lilah, it’s okay. You’re all right.”

  “Please. Please!” Tears rolled down her face.

  My heart broke. She didn’t speak of Kenny, and I tended to forget her torture. However, moments like this were a brutal reminder of her inner torment. “Maverick! Please!”

  Tucker looked spooked. I rushed to Delilah. Arms went back around my neck, and her legs wrapped around my waist. I held her to me. “Delilah, breathe.” She was so upset, crying through pain and fear.

  Tucker was rubbing her back. “Lilah, you’re okay.”

  Delilah tightened her hold on me. “Please! Maverick! Don’t go! You don’t change.”

  “I don’t change?”

  “You don’t change!”

  My head was still a little foggy with beer, but the need to soothe her was screaming at me. I told Tucker, “Let me see if I can calm her down.” I began to walk with Delilah in my arms, talking over her pleas. “Shhh, shhh… I’m right here.”

  “Don’t change,” Delilah sobbed.

  I closed my eyes to feel and connect with her. “Nope, no change. I’m right here, not leaving you. Shhh, listen to me…”

  Slowly, her sobs turned to sniffles, and her body began to relax. I told her, “I’m here, going nowhere.” Her head lay gently on my shoulder. “That’s my girl… that’s my girl…”

  Tucker looked shaken up. “Jesus. Change?”

  I whispered, “Hoping you’d know.” Then rubbing her back, I kept murmuring, “Shhh, right here. Right here.”

  Sure enough, Delilah finally went to sleep again. Tucker quietly said, “She doesn’t drink often.”

  “Seeing that.”

  “That was heart wrenching.” Tucker was grabbing his chest. I inhaled deeply, knowing she was calmer. Tucker pointed to his front passenger seat. “I don’t want to chance waking her again. If I push this seat back, will you let her lie with you?” Then he chuckled, remembering I was a guy. “Damn, dumb question. Never mind.”

  When I went to sit in the car, Delilah’s arms tightened. I assured her, “Not letting you go. Taking you with me. But I don’t want to squash your legs.” I lay back with her glued to me. Fortunately, she listened and moved her legs, bending them so that they were next to my thighs instead of behind me.

  Her cheek lay against me, facing her brother, who was buckling us in. She sighed, mumbling, “Same old Maverick,” with her eyes closed.

  “Does that mean you’re boring?” Tucker tried to joke, but he was too stressed. He shut my door.

  After he got behind his steering wheel, he turned on the engine, and we all jumped at the loud music. “Damn,” said Tucker. “Sorry about that.”

  He carefully got us out of the parking lot full of stumbling drunks. Once we were on open roads, I asked, “Can you run me through a drive-thru? I need a burger to sober up.”

  “Done. I’m starving.” He changed lanes. “Maverick, I’m sorry she… I’m sorry that you—”

  “I’m not… I mean it. I’m not sorry.”

  Chapter Nine

  I managed to sit up a little and shove food down my throat over Delilah’s perfect bare shoulder. Trying to get her to eat a fry resulted in her moving her head to my other shoulder, facing the passenger window again.

  Denied.

  Delilah didn’t release me and wrapped her legs around me once again as we got out of the black car. She moaned, but her eyes never opened, and her head stayed planted on my shoulder. Tucker talked quietly. “My dad is asleep. I’d prefer to keep it that way. Don’t think he is going to appreciate his baby being inebriated. Shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I was distracted, arguing with June.”

  “If I knew she was a lightweight, I could’ve tried to slow her down.”

  “Not your fault. I appreciate you helping me now.”

  The first thing I noticed once we were walking up his driveway was that they lived in a badass crib. “Jesus, Tuck.”

  He looked at his extensive home. “Dad owns his own construction company. That helped.”

  It was a two-story house, of course, but it had to be at least forty-five hundred square feet—on each floor. The home was framed, and the wood was stained, almost as if trying to blend with the theme of this town even though the house had a modern feel.

  Tucker looked down with a solemn expression. “Some think Lilah and I are spoiled. I’d live in a dump to have my mom back.”

  Don’t I fucking know it.

  Looking at this house, and understanding there was some money behind Delilah and Tucker, made me care for them even more because I was getting another inkling that they were real. The whole time I’d known them, I never guessed they came from a dad with mad cash.

  “I drive a beat-up truck and live in a house that needs lots of work,” I told him. “Why would you want me with your sister?”

  “What’s inside you has way more value than what’s inside your wallet.”

  I rubbed her b
ack, thinking. “And she feels the same.”

  “Yeah, she’s a special girl.”

  I chuckled at my reality. “Tuck, I’m living way below my means, to conserve money.”

  His head tilted. “No shit?”

  I nodded.

  He grinned. “And we haven’t always had money. Don’t judge by the cover, huh?”

  Tucker seemed distracted while we crept up the massive stairs to his impressive home. Delilah was still in my arms. Tucker led me to her bedroom and turned on a lamp by her bed. Her room was not what I expected. Mine was a boring white bare-walled room with shit all over the floor. Always. I was a slob. Nothing was on Delilah’s cloud-like, soft carpet. The walls were the softest yellow, accented with white lace curtains. Frilly pillows were placed on a perfectly made bed. Delilah was feminine, and this was a girly-girl room. Everything was sitting meticulously in its place. Bookshelves were full and orderly; each book looked to have been placed with pride.

  Wow. Do opposites attract or what?

  Before I even reached her bed, she mumbled, “Sick.”

  Tucker quickly led me to Delilah’s bathroom through her bedroom. Just as I got her down to her feet, she turned to the toilet and began puking. Tucker grabbed her hair as I helped her to her knees. She purged violently then fell onto me, so I sat against the tub, pulling her back with me. She slid between my legs, leaned into my chest, and moaned the regret we have all experienced once or twice. I chuckled. “This part of partying sucks, don’t it?”

  Tucker flushed the toilet then put a cold wet cloth to her cheek. She asked, “Am I dying?”

  That had Tucker finally lightening up. He quietly laughed. “No, Lilah. You’ll make it.”

  Rubbing her hair was soothing to me. “Lilah. I love that nickname.”

  Her eyes were still closed. “You can call me it… if you want to.”

  With wide eyes, Tucker explained, “It’s a nickname she only lets my dad and me use.”

  Damn, this girl owns me.

  My head rested on hers. “I’d be honored… Lilah.”

  Her heavy breathing told us she was out, at least until the next round of puking was to come. Tucker sat against the wall across from me while I stayed next to the toilet; it was going to be a long night. He said, “She didn’t even let Kenny use that nickname.”