Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3)

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Tough Love (The Shakedown Series Book 3) Page 10

by Elizabeth SaFleur


  As soon as he pulled into Brown’s funeral home, he picked out Luna’s car from the others immediately. She needed something new, which he could handle in an afternoon. In fact, he might just call up Tenant’s Mercedes and order one from the car.

  A beige Buick pulled into the lot behind him, a familiar face behind the wheel.

  Cherry unfolded herself from the front and glared at him. The queen marched right up to his window, which he lowered. He’d expected he’d get an angry reception today, but he’d spent three interminable days away from Luna—at her request, so she could sort things. Odd how he’d started to honor her wishes but probably because she started sharing them with him.

  “Don’t you dare. Not today.” Cherry shook her finger at him. He wanted to snap it in two.

  Without a word, he got out and headed to the entrance. Let her try to stop him.

  “Wait.” Cherry stamped her foot. “You cannot charge the building.”

  Oh, yes, he could. He told himself he came to pay his respects to someone who’d passed. Truth was, not seeing Luna these last few days was eating him alive. Now, she was inside, probably fifty yards from where he stood. He wasn’t waiting another second to be with her by standing outside arguing with one overprotective drag queen.

  “I know you care about her. So, you will talk to me first, got it?”

  Cherry was gutsy. He gave her that.

  He gave a tight nod. He didn’t take orders, but a little information wouldn’t hurt before he went inside anyway.

  “Their father died.”

  The flowers he brought rustled in his hand as he lifted them. “Yes. I’m familiar with why someone would be at a funeral home.”

  “You would be.”

  There was an insult in there, but he couldn’t care less. He’d been to too many funerals in his life.

  Cherry pointed to the door. “They are, too, and shouldn’t be.”

  No question, “they” were the O’Malley triplets.

  Cherry glared at him. “All three of them are more fragile than they will ever let on. You don’t know what they’ve been through and—”

  “Oh, yes, I do. I know more than you know.”

  Her brown eyes slanted down at him. Carragh was a tall man. Hardly anyone looked down on him. “Yes. I suppose our Miss Luna has told you some things.”

  At least she said “our.”

  The queen continued. “So, you would know they’ve circled the wagons. You charge in there, you’ll force her to choose. And, by the way, you’ll lose.”

  “Didn’t think you’d care if I won or lost.”

  “It’d break her heart if you forced her to choose.”

  That got him to still. Somewhere between Saturday and today, he cared about her heart as much as his own. And Cherry might be in their court? Shit, he didn’t even know he and Luna really had a court.

  She lifted her hand. “You want a chance with our miss Luna Belle, you’ll listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.” He couldn’t believe it, but he was.

  “If they see you bulldozing your way in, it reduces your chances greatly. You think Luna, Starr, or Phoenix lived through what they did and would let a man get between them? Don’t force an ultimatum between them. You care about her. You wait.”

  “Been waiting.” Why was he talking to this person?

  She drew closer. Clearly, she wasn’t afraid of him. “But have you tried to get into her world—truly? She’s not a part of yours. You want to know how to do right by our little Luna? Understand her world, and I don’t mean just catching her shows. Can you roll with that?”

  “Yes.” He had no idea what Cherry was saying, but if this tall Amazonian was standing between him and Luna, he’d pretty much promise anything.

  “Stop trying to lure her into a secret life. Secrets are death to those three. They don’t do them—and every time one gets formed, it chips something away inside them.”

  He understood that, but his life was built on them.

  “Right now, she needs someone who will be there. Despite her sisters, she’s the most alone of all three of them. So just… be there.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.” His protective instincts were out of control around this woman. Didn’t everyone see that?

  “Give them this time without…” she waved her hand “…muddling things in front of everyone.”

  He scratched his chin. Every instinct told him she was right. He still would claw the walls down to get inside.

  He glowered at Cherry, someone who’d known Luna a long time. “For the record, I know what it’s like to lose a parent unexpectedly. My mother died when I was fourteen.” His throat tightened. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

  A slight smile played on her wide lips. “Oh, honey. Everyone tells me everything eventually.”

  19

  Luna’s butt was growing numb from the hard wooden bench. The painting that hung behind her father’s funeral urn would forever be etched in her brain—every fold in the man’s Roman cape, every petal of the bouquet he held out to a half-naked woman. There wasn’t anything else to do.

  Funny, so many people thought burlesque dancers were risqué. They should check out the paintings that hung in a funeral home. Even the cherubs on two small paintings next to the larger one were barely holding on to the drapes strategically placed across their little pricks.

  The entire scenario was stupid. They’d been sitting in this funeral home front parlor that looked straight out of a turn-of-the-century-movie. She half-expected a woman wearing a long gown to come swishing in, trailed by a maid holding a tray of teacups and crumpets, whatever the hell crumpets were.

  Maven and Mimi, both former caretakers of their father, had come to pay their respects. The male nurse who had found them, too, delivering the news that their dad had gone “peacefully” and “in his sleep,” as if she or her sisters cared.

  Then, there was the way Maven kept darting her eyes toward Phoenix. A shudder ran through her at the thought their father had rambled in one of his incoherent gibberings about how he had taken out his drunken rages on their sister. Had he?

  More questions piled higher and higher.

  Should she have found him again, fourteen years after he dumped them in the care of child protective services? Would Phoenix had been better off not being able to confront him as she got to? Was Starr better off seeing karma had worked its magic on him—taken everything from him, from his body to his mind?

  From the time they’d found him until today, she never once asked him her most important question, however. Why did he treat her so differently from her sisters?

  The Funeral Director—a Mr. Craddock, Crabtree, Crack-something—appeared for the tenth time, his dark suit reminding everyone of the somber surroundings. “Ladies, may I get you anything?” His face was impassive, his hands folded in front of his crotch as he half bowed toward them.

  “A sledgehammer.” Phee’s tired whisper caused the director’s brow to knit but the man backed away, seemingly nonplussed by Phee’s reaction. He’d likely seen it all before anyway.

  “So, this is how the uncared for go out.” Phoenix snorted in derision. “You’re put in an urn, placed on a pedestal in a funeral home sitting room, and you wait for no one to show up.”

  Eventually, the urn would be placed in a columbarium in a cemetery—a little niche in a structure meant for holding such things. Apparently, it was important enough to their father to follow the Catholic guidelines for doing so. He’d left instructions, which was so odd given the man could barely remember their names. He hadn’t wanted a full Catholic funeral with all the pomp and ceremony. Just a simple gathering though he didn’t define it.

  She was relieved. They could have one afternoon in a funeral home where they normally did showings. And then they could leave the urn behind. She couldn’t imagine having the urn in one of their possessions. It was too creepy.

  Luna stared at the back of Mimi. “Mimi came.”

>   His former caretaker Mimi knelt on the padded bench, crossed herself, and her lips begin to move silently. It was nice of her to show up today.

  Memories flooded in. Church. They used to go to church.

  Nathan reached for Starr’s hand, captured her fingers. She sighed deeply.

  Declan drew Phoenix closer. Phee held out her hand and studied her manicure, the Black Onyx lacquer on her fingertips, for the eighth time. “Someone tell me why we’re doing this again?” She sighed heavily and let her hand fall to her lap. “I can’t believe we’re bothering.”

  “Stop. Please. Just stop.” Luna’s face grew cold as if all the blood was leaving her.

  On the inside, she was brittle and on the edge, and really, Phee needed to stop running commentary on this little… whatever this was. Funeral? Wake? Scene from a movie?

  Luna bit the inside of her cheek instead of screaming at the urn that held his ashes in front of them.

  Phoenix pulled her top lip through her teeth and then sighed. She put her arm around Luna. “It was nice of Mimi to come.” Her bravado finally dropped, which made Luna bristle a little on the inside. Phee truly had changed. Then again, so had Starr, finding a domestic side she didn’t think possible.

  Mimi rose, announcing she had to go to work. Before leaving, she patted Luna’s knee. “It’s nice of you three to be here. Most of my patients have no one.” No one. That had to be the worst thing in the world.

  Before slipping through the door, Mimi nodded at Max, who stood off to the side, hands crossed over his chest, doing that man shuffle dance. Max kept stretching his neck as if his collar was too tight. Which, by the looks of his arms threatening to rip the seams of his jacket, it probably was.

  Luna pulled herself free from under Phee’s arm and in a rustle of fabric stood. “Let’s go. No one else is coming.”

  Declan removed his arm and rose. “I’ll get the cars brought up.” Nathan rose as well as if the men were eager to get away from this sad scene and do something.

  She understood the feeling.

  As they slowly dragged their heels over the thick plush carpeting, the maddening injustice of their life crept up on her in a mad rush. She and her sisters had deserved more.

  Perhaps today would have been a good day to tell them the secrets she harbored. The weight of now holding two airplane-sized ones pressed down her body.

  First, there was the locket, probably holding one of the last remaining photos of their mother. And the other? They’d never understand her spending time with Carragh. She didn’t understand it herself. She just liked him. Felt good around him.

  Okay, time to unload one of the secrets she held. “I have something to show you. Something found in Dad’s things. I had to pick some up from his halfway house.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the folded tissue paper holding the locket that she’d tucked in one of the side pockets. She felt better just having the necklace with her all the time.

  By then, Phee had held up her hand and shielded her eyes with the other. “Whatever it is, I don’t need to see it.”

  She held up the locket anyway, and Starr gasped.

  Phee finally looked. “That’s…”

  “Mom’s old locket.” Starr fingered the silver clamshell.

  The chain slipped over her hands as Starr stood and took the necklace with her. Phee and she ogled it, lips parted, eyes wide.

  “Open it.” Luna stood to join them.

  After cracking it open, Phee’s eyes misted at the sight. “It’s Mom.” But then her eyes hardened. “And Dad.”

  Starr slowly shook her head. “Wow, he looks young.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  Their mother’s face, framed by her signature long red hair, smiled from the tiny photograph.

  The picture curled a little on one side. Starr used her fingernail to loosen the tiny image, which revealed a small picture of the three of them in a pyramid pose with Luna peering over the tops of Starr and Phee’s heads.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of freckles,” Starr laughed.

  “I’m shocked he had a photo of us at all.” A nervous laugh left Phee’s throat. “Do you think he ever loved her? Mom, I mean?”

  “Not enough. If I could change my maiden name, I would.” Starr closed the locket and handed it back to Luna. “Oh, wait. I did.”

  Phee smiled over at Declan, standing by Max. “I’m going to marry Declan. That’s the best way for me, too.”

  Luna was glad to see as much shock registered on Starr’s face as she felt on her own.

  “I can attest. Marriage rocks,” Starr said.

  Phee bumped her with her shoulder. “It looks good on you.”

  “It feels good.” Starr turned to Luna. “You’re going to love it, too, L. The best part is when you don’t have to worry about other men as much. It’s like a guy code or something.”

  “Thou shall not covet another man’s wife?”

  “Exactly.”

  They all had suffered the object-itis that men sometimes adopted. Like they were dolls who had no feelings and were there as their playthings.

  “And when you’re pregnant?” Starr tapped her belly. “Even strangers get all protective.”

  “That would be nice,” Luna said.

  “It’ll happen for ya.” Starr grinned.

  “Promise me you’ll accept whoever I choose.”

  Phee’s lips pinched together. “Of course, we would. Why would you ask that?”

  Starr’s face fell. Carragh had materialized in the tall archway, an enormous bouquet of white calla lilies and gardenias bouncing inside paper that crinkled in his hands. His eyes fixed on Luna. She met his eyes, and just as they threatened to fill with tears, she raised her chin and took a deep breath.

  “He probably just came to pay his respects,” she said to her sisters.

  “He doesn’t know the definition.” Starr’s eyes then suddenly squinched down at her. She was thinking. “When you asked about accepting who you’d choose, did you… Don’t tell me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Starr’s imagination was in overdrive. Everyone was when it came to Carragh—especially her own.

  Luna hoofed up to him before Max or Declan got any ideas. “Thank you.” She took the flowers from Carragh’s outstretched arms.

  She faced the disapproving crowd. Declan, Nathan, Starr, Luna, and Max stood in the entryway, glaring at him like he was the devil.

  With a huff, she turned back to Carragh.

  “My condolences.” He peered over her shoulder. “To all three of you.” Her two sisters had sidled up behind her.

  “Come on Luna. Let’s go.” Her sisters were behind her, each taking an arm to try to lead her away in a nanosecond.

  “In a minute.”

  The other men continued to pierce Carragh with daggers in their eyes. She used to look at him like that. Now? She wanted nothing more than to disappear into his arms.

  She turned to her sisters. “I want to say a little prayer. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the parking lot.”

  Phee and Starr glanced at one another as if trading a message—one Luna read just fine. “Seriously. He’s not going to do anything. You already know Max is going to hover.”

  He would. He loved to hover—and throw people out of places.

  “Okay, but only because Max is going to stay. Aren’t you?” Phee scowled at Carragh, who’d grown closer.

  Max nodded once and bared a gun inside his jacket. The sight made Luna’s eyes well up. “Please.” She let all the begging tone she could muster rise in the one word. It didn’t help. Max appeared like the granite mountain he always was when he believed a threat was near.

  If they only knew Carragh like she did. His family may be a threat, but in her heart of hearts, she knew he was trying to protect them.

  Once everyone had left—save Max and Carragh—she went to the altar and laid the flowers Carragh had brought next to the urn.

  She then knelt down on the narrow padded ben
ch. She didn’t really want to say anything, but she wasn’t ready to leave. If she did, she’d be whisked away in a car by one of her overprotective sisters.

  The rustle of a familiar suit sounded behind her. Carragh had sat in the front row.

  “How are you?” His voice was so gentle she wanted to cry.

  “Fine.”

  “I’m here.”

  He saw so much in her, it was uncanny. He must see how alone she’d felt over the last few days, not knowing what to say, what to do. A tear leaked down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily.

  When had life grown unfair again? Last year—before Ruark MacKenna had appeared—everything was great.

  Starr, Phee, and she danced five nights a week. Declan pined for Phee from afar, a constant silent supporter of her sister. Nathan was just the new guy who gaped at Starr with such adoration everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he made his move on her. And Luna had hired a private investigator to find their father—to just learn if he was still alive. There was so much hope all around, so much good yet to come, and they could feel it.

  Carragh would have been just a nice guy she met somewhere, then introduced to her sisters, and they’d have accepted him with open arms; at least until they learned about his father. But by then they could have figured something out.

  Now, despite Starr and Phoenix’s latest happiness, a sliver of anticipation for things to go bad again hung heavy in the air around them. She honestly didn’t know what to do next. She didn’t even trust her own feelings.

  For long minutes she knelt with Carragh at her back, her brain swirling. Without turning around, she knew he stared at her back. It was comforting, as if a hand rested there.

  “I find sometimes it helps to just say it,” Carragh interrupted her whirling mind.

  She sucked in a long breath and let it out. “I didn’t find him for me.” She blinked at the urn holding what was left of her father’s body. She felt stupid talking aloud like this, but her words needed out. “I did it for them. For Starr and Phee to get their final say. And this is going to sound stupid, but I’m a little insulted I didn’t get to ask him the one thing I needed.”

 

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