by Emelia Blair
That is true.
My heart is still racing, and I find myself watching his form as he quickly washes the dishes. My eyes move over his back and the way his black jeans perfectly outline his legs and curve on his butt, and I bite my lower lip.
“I can feel you staring, Sarah.” He smirks from where he stands, and I blush.
“I am not… I am just looking,” I stammer.
He looks over his shoulder at me. “That’s the definition of staring.”
I don’t say anything, not knowing what the kiss means. I want to ask him but I don’t know how to form the right words. He is a stranger to me, one I am very, very attracted to. He watched over me as I slept off the effects of what was most probably a date rape drug. He looked after me, fed me breakfast, and now he kissed me.
When he turns around and sees me giving him a bewildered look, he tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”
I move my shoulders in a helpless gesture. “I–”
A loud banging on the front door has us both looking up.
Fergus gives me a wary look. “Are you expecting someone?”
I shake my head.
“Sarah, open up! I know you’re in there!”
My eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”
It is Seth.
5
Fergus
Sarah looks as if she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“‘Oh, shit,’ what? Who is that?” I ask, feeling coldness seep down my spine.
It is a man’s voice. Is that her boyfriend?
“That’s Seth!” She sounds panicked. “He sounds mad.”
“Who’s Seth?” My voice is thin, dismay and anger a warring combination inside of me.
Of course, it makes sense that someone like her wouldn’t be single.
She is too busy scrambling to the door to answer my question. Unlocking the door, she quickly puts on an easy smile that has me blinking. “Hi, Seth. A bit early for you to be–”
“Why aren’t you at work? Your school called; they said you weren’t answering.”
Seth is a dark-haired man with spectacles that are on the verge of falling off his nose. His brown eyes hold concern that shifts to anger when he sees me. Although he is a foot shorter than me, he pushes Sarah behind him and glares at me. “Who are you?”
Sarah looks uncomfortable, and she shifts. “This is Fergus. He, uh, stayed over last night because I was kind of sick.”
Seth instantly turns around to scan her from top to bottom, concern and worry etched in his voice. “What happened?”
“I, uh… Food poisoning. I got food poisoning from a burger I ate last night!” Sarah blurts out.
I scowl at the insult to my cooking, but I also wonder why she isn’t telling the truth.
“So, Fergus helped me home, and it was late, so he stayed over.”
“You’re okay now, though?” Seth asks, and she bobs her head up and down.
He turns to me, his voice harsh. “So, why’re you still here?”
I tuck my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans and give the man a sharp smile. “Clearly, because she wants me here.”
I don’t step on any man’s turf, but Sarah still has to identify her relationship with this man who is hovering over her like a protective lover.
Sarah immediately pushes Seth aside, miffed by his attitude. “Don’t be rude, Seth. Fergus is a friend.”
Seth crosses his arms over his chest and scowls. “You could have called me over. I dropped by yesterday anyway, to see Bryan, but he wasn’t here.”
The color washes from Sarah’s face, and my eyes narrow as she says, weakly, “He’s on a trip with some friends. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Seth frowns, dropping his arms to his sides. “That’s what you said last week. Why is he missing his classes? He’ll fall behind.”
I notice the way she walks over to the chair she abandoned, her movements slow, and sits down, heavily. Her smile is forced. “You know how boys are. He says he’ll catch up.”
“What about his cell? I’ve been trying his number.”
I can tell the lie in her voice as she says, “He lost his phone. You know how careless he can be.”
Seth looks doubtful but shrugs. “All right. You tell him to call me when you get in touch with him. I need to talk to him.”
Sarah nods, and I see the way her hands fist her blouse. “I will. Don’t worry.”
Seth stares at me, trying to establish his dominance. “You want me to walk you out, Ferin?”
I bare my teeth in a smile. “I’m good.”
Irritated, Seth looks at Sarah. “Are you sure you’ll be able to make it to dinner tonight? I have to get back to the community center. But I can pick you up at around seven.”
Sarah nods, and I see her take a shuddering breath when the door slams behind Seth.
I wait for a few moments before asking. “Are you scared of him?”
She looks at me startled, letting out a choked laugh. “Of Seth? No! Why would you think that?”
I raise a brow. “Because you wanted him gone. And you kept lying to him consistently. You don’t seem to be the type of person who does that.”
Her soft lips part as she struggles with something and then she shakes her head. “I wasn’t–”
“You were,” I interrupt her. “About where you were. About what happened to you. About your brother. I want to know why.”
She tries for offended. “It’s none of your business, Fergus.”
I don’t bat an eye. “I think it is since you’re clearly not at the bar to meet people. Aside from me, I haven’t seen you talk to anybody. However, you’re very interested in people with a very specific tattoo. You also don’t want your friend knowing that you’re visiting a bar. And, I have a strong feeling your brother isn’t gone on a trip with some ‘friends.’”
Sarah looks pale, her hand clutching onto the back of the chair, her lips trembling.
I can’t take that devastated look on her face, and I cover the distance between us in two wide steps. Crouching at her feet, I hold her hands, which are cold as ice, concern in my voice, “Sarah, what’s going on? Where’s your brother?”
She opens her mouth, and her lips tremble as she whispers, “I don’t know.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“He’s missing.” She pulls her hands away from me and wraps her arms around her middle, misery and fear radiating from her. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t know if he’s okay. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
Things aren’t adding up here. “Why were you in the—”
The tattoos.
Carefully, I ask, “Sarah, do the Street Serpents have anything to do with your brother’s disappearance?”
She jerks her head in a nod, and my blood runs cold.
“And just exactly what were you planning to do?” I ask dangerously, eyes narrowing.
She doesn’t meet my eyes. “Bryan joined the gang. I found out about it a while back. He was trying to get out. One of his ‘friends’ in the gang was someone we grew up with. Roy. I thought that maybe if I saw him, I could talk to him, find out something, do something.”
I remember the picture I saw in her room, and I realize why Bryan is so familiar. “Bryan visited the bar a few times.” I let out a whoosh of air. “That’s why you were there.”
“I’m not trying to stir trouble.” She looks at me through tears in her eyes, and her voice cracks, “I just want my baby brother back.”
Looking at her pain brings back memories of a time that I had pushed deep inside me, of a laughing young girl with the same eyes as me, her little pigtails trailing behind her as she raced after me, pigtails that I spent over an hour making for her.
Hating the sight of the tears on her face, I cup her face and wipe them away with my thumbs. “Do you have a picture of Roy?”
She shakes her head. “No, but he has a cross-shaped scar on his right cheek.”
I freeze. “Are you ta
lking about Roy Mortimer?”
She gives me a confused look. “You know him?”
Imagining Sarah anywhere near that man makes my heart stutter in my chest. Her face in my hands, I growl. “You cannot go anywhere near that man, Sarah! He’s one of the top enforcers of the gang.”
Sarah pales. “That’s a bad thing, right?”
“He’s a vicious man. If he finds out that you’re sniffing around for information, he’ll make you disappear with a snap of his fingers!”
She pulls away from me and walks over to pour herself a glass of water, her hands unsteady. “He won’t hurt me. I know Roy. I just need to–”
I grab her by her arms and whirl her around to face me. “I said, no!”
She bares her teeth at me. “And you don’t tell me what to do!”
So, she has claws.
I release my grip and take a step back, my voice low. “I’m saying this for your own good, Sarah.”
She doesn’t look me in the eye. “Bryan is all I have. I raised him, protected him, sacrificed everything for him. If something happens to him, I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself.”
She raises her eyes to meet mine, and I see the fear mixed with the determination. “So, it doesn’t matter whether Roy is a murderer or an enforcer. It doesn’t matter if I get hurt. Nothing matters if I can get Bryan back.”
“So, what, you just left her there?”
I stare at the glass of brandy in my hand, swirling it around, my mind conflicted.
Ian studies me, his red hair tied in a short ponytail at the base of his neck.
I dropped by his house after the argument with Sarah.
“What else could I have done?” I scowl. “She’s right. It’s none of my business.”
Ian snatches the glass of brandy from my hand and throws it down his throat. “Don’t waste that.”
We are sitting in his living room. His house is a huge estate on the outskirts of the city, a sprawling two-story house that Agatha helped design for him. His twin brothers are asleep in rooms that they claimed for themselves.
I pick up a slice of the pizza and bite into it.
Ian leans against the arm of the couch and looks at me. “Look, I don’t know much about this gang. You and Zayn are more in touch with the underground world, considering your career choices. But if this gang is as bad as you say, then your girl shouldn’t be going anywhere near them.”
“She’s not my girl.” I practically inhale the slice and get up to find some non-alcoholic beverage.
“There’s some mango lassi in the fridge. Jake is obsessed with it,” Ian informs me, and then continues, “She sure seems like your girl with the way you won’t shut up about her.”
I glower at him as I take out the faintly yellow drink. “Fuck you.”
My childhood friend leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been at the bar every night for these past five days. You usually put in time at the restaurant as well, but you’ve changed your schedule. And I’m assuming she’s the reason behind it.”
I pour myself a glass of the lassi, not knowing how to respond to that.
“I am looking out for her. She’s like a lamb amongst wolves. You know where the bar’s situated. It has a mixed clientele. We get all kinds.”
Ian doesn’t say anything, his green eyes fixed on me. “So you say. But she stood up to you. That tells me she isn’t some timid little woman who needs your protection.”
I bristle at that, and he scoffs. “You have it bad, my friend. I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”
I sit down heavily in the armchair across from him. “I barely know her. She thinks I’m some down-on-my-luck bartender.”
Ian winces. “Ouch, that’s going to bite you in the ass later.”
I growl, sarcasm dripping from my tone, “Gee, you think?”
My friend smirks at me, but then his grin fades. “But you are right. She is in serious trouble. What are you going to do?”
I comb my hair with my fingers, a quick, agitated movement. “I have some contacts. I can use them. See what I can find out about Bryan. And if nothing, Zayn always has his fingers in the darkest corners of Chicago. He can probably dig up something.”
Ian shakes his head, amused. “I never will get the fascination you two have with getting your hands dirty.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You know, Zayn with his clubs and acting like a bouncer. And then you, insisting on bartending while having all these fancy-ass restaurants. I mean, come on, you two are dominating the market in this part of the country; do you really need to do all that?”
I sip at my drink and sneer. “Well, we’re men. Unlike you and Philip who probably go to the salon to get your nails done once a week. Pussies.”
Ian raises a brow, not in the least insulted. “I blame it on your abandonment issues.” He shakes his head, sadly. “Probably weren’t loved enough. So, now you have to go out and try to get the approval of strangers.”
“Well, fuck you, too, orphan boy.” I roll my eyes at him, good-naturedly.
All four of us grew up together, having met and befriended each other at the same boarding school. While Philip belongs to an aristocratic background, Zayn and I come from broken families. My uncle took me and my sister in, while Zayn landed a scholarship. Ian was adopted by his foster parents, who adored him and spoiled him.
Ian grins at me. “Hey, at least my parents loved me.”
“They had no choice. The law forced them to,” I shoot back.
Hearing a clatter upstairs, we both look up, and Ian makes a rueful face. “Well, it was too much to hope that they would stay asleep.”
I look at the clock. “I should be going as well.”
However, I make no move to get up.
“I’ll drop by the bar,” Ian says. “You’re probably going to be there, anyways.”
I wince. “I have to look out for her, especially if she doesn’t care about the danger she’s walking into.”
Ian sighs and then looks at me, suggesting, “You could always leave her alone. She isn’t your problem. Trying to protect her could cause more damage to you and your business, especially if this gang decides you’re a hindrance.”
I narrow my eyes at him, not understanding my sudden anger at his callous words, and Ian gives me an amiable smile. “But you won’t. So, I guess I’ll drop by to check out your little girlfriend.”
I punch him in the arm, making him curse.
As I leave his house a little later and get into my car, I ponder Ian’s words.
I understand her urgency about finding her brother. I can relate to the hopelessness.
Hadn’t I gone through the same thing when I had found out about Reine’s accident?
I wanted to be by her side, but my uncle told me I would do nothing but come underfoot. Three days I spent trying to find some way of getting to my baby sister, who was attached to a thousand different tubes, halfway across the world.
My hands tighten on the wheel as the rush of memories make it difficult for me to breathe.
I had gone wild with grief when my uncle had called me to tell me that Reine had been declared brain dead. Even now, her death is something that haunts me. Her loss, just as fresh inside of me. The wound, never to stop bleeding.
If I close my eyes, I can still see her crying when my uncle showed up to take us away from our alcoholic father and separated the two of us. He sent her to a boarding school in Switzerland, and he sent me to the States. She begged me not to leave her, but I was a child myself, at the mercy of the adults making the decisions.
Turning into my building, I park the car and step into the elevator to my penthouse. I had not slept the previous night, and I know that Sarah won’t be at the bar tonight, so I plan to get some sleep in.
My chest aches, and as I enter my lavish penthouse, I stare blindly at the large living space. I can’t see the carefully chosen furniture that I collected over the ye
ars. My eyes aren’t processing the kitchen that I spent years working at, perfecting recipes that are now served at my restaurants.
No.
All I can see is the missing girl with her two pigtails, smiling at me with that adorable gap in her teeth. She is all I want to see.
My head aches due to the lack of sleep, but I feel my gut churning inside.
So many years have passed, more than a decade, and yet this hurt is still so alive inside of me. I still want to wrap my arms around her and hold her.
Trudging over to the long gray sofa that was the center of the living room, I let myself fall on it, and I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to contain the burning anguish.
Isn’t it supposed to become easier over time?
Isn’t the wound supposed to scar over?
Hearing a shuffling sound, I sit up only to see Agatha standing there. “Sorry. I let myself in.”
I make space for her on the sofa, my voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”
“My apartment’s being remodeled, and Grams has her ladies’ thing going on, so I didn’t want to stay with her. Philip forgot to leave his key with me, so I thought I’d crash here.” She sits down next to me, putting her socked feet on the wooden table, a mug of hot cocoa in her hands.
“Well, you’re always welcome to stay here. I’ve got an extra bedroom,” I tell her.
She turns to look at me and then offers me her mug. “You look like you need this more than I do.”
I accept the mug without protest, and as she curls up next to me, her head on my shoulder, I feel myself relax.
“You show up at just the right times,” I murmur to her, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head.
She smiles. “I call it my Fergus radar. It was tingling.”
Then her smile fades, and she raises her head to study my face. “You look sad today. Reine?”
I swallow and say nothing, and she sighs. “You never talk about her anymore.”
I sip at the hot cocoa, and my voice is heavy, “There’s nothing to say, Agatha. She’s gone. Talking about her just hurts.”
She is silent for a moment and then reaches to pick up the remote. “Tell you what. You don’t have to talk. Let’s put on a movie, and we can stay here like this.”
