I hold the flame to the end, inhaling. As the flame goes out, movement from the other side of the building catches my eye.
"Over there."
I approach at an angle, giving me a wide enough view to spot Olivia kneeling in front of Esther.
"Shit!" Donny takes off toward them.
I follow, scanning the parking lot and watching Donny's back. It's empty except for River Reapers' bikes—typical for ten in the morning at The Wet Mermaid. My shoulders drop a half notch, my hackles still up. Call it prison sense, but something doesn't feel right.
Maybe it's the weight of the air, or the crows cawing from a nearby telephone line. Maybe it's the knot in my stomach that tightens every time I think of seeing my aunt and uncle.
Maybe it's flat out paranoia.
I approach slowly, flanking Olivia as Donny kneels next to her. She slides over, giving them some space.
"What happened?" I ask, dropping my voice.
She reaches for the cigarette I've forgotten about. Putting it between her lips, she takes a long drag.
"Plans have changed," she says.
3
Olivia
Cliff watches me for a long moment. I hold his gaze, realizing that he tied his hair back from his face. The sight of that ponytail sends a rocket of heat to my center—completely inappropriate timing, I know.
What I love most about myself is that I can feel like utter, terrible, absolute shit death, and still be thinking about the next time I'm gonna have sex. I'm a gremlin like that. I'm the same with food. I can always eat. I've got a healthy appetite and I love that about me.
What I don't love is the way Cliff is looking at me: all soft brown eyes, so dark they're almost black, brows furrowed just enough to put a slight crease in the middle.
Despite the fact that shit just hit the fan for Esther—his brother's old lady—he's looking at me with a tenderness that pools in those eyes, so transparent I can see straight through it.
I frown, too.
That's not supposed to happen.
"I'm taking her inside," Donny says.
I use Esther as an excuse to break away from Cliff, although I still feel his eyes on me. Taking one of her arms, I hoist her to her feet, Donny supporting her other side.
Once we get her sitting in Donny's room upstairs, I run back down to get her a shot of vodka. The bottle comes with me, just in case. Mark can yell at me later. Handing her the shot, I sit next to her, tucking my legs underneath me.
She holds the shot between two fingers, staring through it. Both men stare at me. I occupy myself by rubbing her back.
Donny kneels in front of her, each big hand clasping one of her knees. "What happened, baby?" he asks, voice calm on the surface but steely underneath. There's a reason he's the club Enforcer.
She downs the shot, shuddering as the sharp vodka slides down her throat. I hold the bottle out to her, but she shakes her head. "Maybe in a minute." She sucks in a deep breath. "That call I got," she says, looking at me, "was my grandma."
I nod, trying to be patient. This isn't some drama queen. It's Esther.
"The kids," she breathes, closing her eyes and holding out the shot glass.
I bite my lip as I pour her another one. For the past four years, her grandparents have been fostering her younger siblings. There's some sort of unspoken agreement that when she graduates, she's supposed to become their guardian. I don't know much more than that.
She throws the vodka back, closing her fingers around the empty glass. Her hand curls so tightly around it, I'm a little concerned it's going to bust. "They're going to give them back," she whispers. "My grandma didn't want to wait 'til after the ceremony to tell me."
Donny gives her a stricken look. "I'm sorry, Essie."
"That's good, right?" I ask, glancing from her to Donny.
She laughs, a bitter sound from those sweet lips. "It was all I could do to get DCF to take them out of there." Her hand tightens.
Gently, I pry her fingers from the glass and take it away. "Doesn't that mean that your parents got their shit together?"
"Damn, Olivia. You of all people should know people never change."
I think of Bree, of all the men she paraded in and out of our apartments. Suppressing a shudder, I shove down the memories. Esther knows more about my past than I know about hers. That's because, all throughout college, she plied me with Netflix and wine, and I gave up little pieces here and there. All this time, she's sat next to me on that couch, being my friend, when I've done shit for her.
"The system is bullshit," she continues.
"Yeah," I agree. Before Cliff's aunt and uncle adopted me, I bounced from family to family. No happy memories. I don't want to press Esther, but we're both social workers now. If anyone can figure this out, it's us. "Look, I know I've been a shitty friend, but let me help. What exactly did DCF tell your grandma?"
"You've been a wonderful friend." She pats my knee. "Especially if you give me that bottle."
I hand it over.
"Essie, there's still some time, if you want to walk," Donny says.
Between chugs of vodka, she gives Donny a dirty look.
He holds up his hands in surrender. "A'ight." Standing, he nods to Cliff. "Let's step out, have a smoke."
"It's okay," Esther says. "He can stay." She closes her eyes again and sighs. "It's not that I don't want to tell you guys. I just don't want to talk about it." She swallows.
"If you're gonna fight for these kids, you better get used to it," I say.
Cliff nudges me with his elbow. "Jesus, Olivia."
"What? It's true."
"She's right." She draws her knees to her chest, her dress pooling around her waist. She keeps the bottle in her lap. "When DCF finally took the girls out of there, they hadn't eaten outside of school in weeks. Cierra tried to make ramen for herself and Abril. She didn't know what to do for the baby. She ended up burning herself. Ximena's diaper hadn't been changed in a few days." She shakes her head.
"Where was your mom?" I ask.
She snorts. "Bitch was right there the whole time. Just didn't feel like it."
"And your dad?"
Her face pales by several shades. "My father," she says, her voice cracking. Her eyes dart toward Donny, then close. He places a hand on top of her head, his mouth a tight line.
"College was my ticket out," she says, a pleading edge to her voice.
My hands go numb, dread pitting in my stomach. I don't want to hear this. "Your ticket out of what?" I ask anyway.
Against my better judgement.
Because I know this story. The details might be different, but the structure is all the same. College was my ticket out, too. Still, I have to hear her say it. I can't jump to conclusions. Not everyone's story is like mine.
"I can't say it." She takes another drink from the bottle.
I want to ask her to pass it over, but I don't. "You have to," I hear myself say. "You keep it a secret, you give him power. Shine your light on the truth—on what he did to you."
I'm a hypocrite.
"My sisters, and me. All the time. He'd leave for a little while, and things would be okay. My mom would slack off, but I'd pick up the pieces. She always let him come back, though. She's just as much of a monster as he is." Her lips tremble.
I think of Bree's boyfriends again. Statistically speaking, they should've been the biggest threat to me. They never touched me. Most of them barely even acknowledged my existence. They were too busy getting high with my mom.
I lick my dry lips. "Your father sexually abused you and your sisters?" With each word I speak, my blood boils a little higher.
Esther nods. "Not the bab—Ximena. I mean, she's five now. She isn't his—his words, not mine. That's why he let her be." Her voice rises with each word, the tears flowing faster.
My stomach curdles. I want to dart into the bathroom, slam the door shut behind me.
"Jesus Christ," Cliff says, reminding me that Esther and I aren't alone.
I have to get my shit together. If not for Esther, then for Cliff. It's bad enough that he looks at me so tenderly.
I don't need him to look at me the way he's looking at Esther. Like he feels sorry for her. He can never look at me that way.
4
Cliff
I squeeze my hands into fists so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I see my father looking at Lucy a little too long, can hear her cries late at night. He's dead, he's gone, and Lucy is safe, but these little girls aren't.
Donny's fingers move like dancers through Esther's hair, stroking and comforting. It's weird, reconciling this tender man with the one who just a few months ago helped me disassemble a body. Then again, it's weird compartmentalizing myself, my own hands that have taken lives and given love. He glances at me, brown eyes so dark they're nearly black.
"DCF says they've done everything they're supposed to," Esther says with a sob. "My mom went to all of her parenting classes and therapy sessions. And my . . . He can't pass the psychosexual evaluation, but he has a job and their apartment is a two bedroom." Esther lowers her legs, crossing them and then letting her hands rest in her lap.
"What's a psychosexual evaluation?" I ask, but I think I already know. My hands itch for something to do. A cigarette to smoke. A rapist to choke. Anything.
"It's a test for sex offenders," Olivia explains bitterly. "Tells the clinician how much of a risk they are, if they'll sexually assault someone again. It's also supposed to tell the clinician what kind of treatment they need." Olivia practically spits the word. "Treatment." Shaking her head, she paces the small room. "If he can't pass the psychosexual eval, isn't that a fail?"
"That's what I thought," Esther says with a shrug. "But their social worker is working toward reunification."
"Reunification?" I repeat.
"Means they're slowly going to give the kids back to Esther's parents," Olivia explains, still pacing.
"I was supposed to take care of them," Esther whispers. Tears slide down her cheeks.
I rub at the strip of hair on my chin, every muscle and nerve in my body on fire. Olivia is the kind of woman who doesn't have many friends. She keeps to herself, staying loyal to the few friends and family she does have. Esther has been an angel in my Olivia's life. When my girl has nightmares about Eli and I'm not there to soothe her back to sleep, Esther climbs into bed with her and holds her close. No questions asked.
To think that someone hurt this quiet woman who so sweetly holds Donny's heart and tames Olivia's sends a fresh surge of fire through my veins.
"We'll take care of them," I say, giving Donny a weighted look. He nods.
"'We' the club, or 'we' the three?" Olivia asks. She's finally stopped pacing but her arms are wrapped so tightly around herself, there'll probably be bruises later.
Esther holds up a hand. "We need to handle things my way. At least, we have to try."
"What do you want to do?" Donny asks, sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her.
Glancing at the digital display on the alarm on the nightstand, she takes a deep breath. "Well, I've officially graduated. I guess my first step is to meet with the social worker." Her lip curls. "She was supposed to get TPR moving ages ago. I need to find out what's up with that."
"TPR?" I prod.
"Termination of parental rights."
"We can put pressure on her," I offer. "Just get me an address."
Her lips part, probably to tell me to let her handle it, but Olivia speaks over all of us.
"We've got this, Cliff. We're both in the system now, remember? We're the good guys." She sits next to Esther and squeezes her hand. "We're gonna figure this out."
I don't trust the system. Everyone in this town looked the other way when my father was hurting Lucy. They've obviously been doing the same for Esther's parents. Before I can say so, my phone rings.
I pull it out of my back pocket, wincing when I see who it is. "Yeah," I answer, swallowing.
"Where the hell are you two?" Lucy demands, enough heat in her voice to let me know that she's been stuck with her parents at the ceremony, and she's pissed.
"Lucy," I mouth to Olivia.
Our time's run out.
5
Olivia
"I'll see you tonight," I promise Esther. "Call me if . . ."
I don't finish. Esther doesn't need me. What she needs is the relief that comes with her family's safety. She doesn't need me to hold her hand. She needs me to get her some answers. I won't be able to do anything for her until Monday, when I start my new job with the Waterbury Department of Children and Families.
"Thank you," she says, squeezing my hand. "And I do need you, chica. You keep me calm and focused just by being here. So thank you."
I leave my hand in hers, too stunned to say anything. Being wanted sends a spark of warmth through me. I squeeze her hand back, then release it. "Let's go," I say to Cliff, hurrying past him and out of the club house.
On to the next emergency—my biographic title.
"Hey," Cliff calls after me.
Shoulders tightening, I dangle between pretending not to hear him and riding off, or actually dealing with him right now. Except I'm not dressed for riding, so it's either go back into the club house and grab my gear, or warm the seat behind him.
Smoothing away my emotions, I turn around. "How pissed is Lucy?" I ask, hoping that's all he wants to talk about.
He grimaces. "Pretty pissed. Want a ride?"
I try not to mirror the look on his face. I don't want to hurt his feelings. I just need a little distance right now. Plus, I'll use any excuse to take out the Street Glide.
"I get it," he says when I don't answer right away. "Why ride with me when you can ride your own?" His grin lights up his face. There's nothing but affection there.
I nod, even though that's not it. I really need to clear my head.
"Go get changed," he says. "I'll wait for you."
I take a step back toward the club house. "That's okay. One of us should get to Lucy before she explodes."
"I'm not really looking forward to facing Livid Lucy and your parents on my own," he admits.
No matter how muddled my head is, I can't subject him to that kind of torture. "You're right. It's safer if we stick together." I laugh, and his face softens as he reaches for me.
"I want to talk to you about something." He places a hand on each side of my waist and pulls me into him, and I nearly dissolve in his arms.
I swallow. "We should go."
"It'll take two minutes. I'll ask, you'll say yes, and then we'll handle your parents and Lucy."
The heat radiating from his body, from his eyes—it will burn me alive. My heart races faster and faster, and I'm not sure if it's from exhilaration or fear. Because as much as I'm dreading what I think he's going to say, it feels nice to be wanted.
Even if I can't give him what he wants.
"Where are you planning on going when Esther moves out?"
Here we go.
I shrug as if I haven't put any thought into it. "Not sure I'm going anywhere. I mean, my salary with DCF should cover rent." Barely. "I'll probably keep my bartending job to fill in the gaps."
"What if you didn't have to?" The corners of his lips lift, brown eyes pools that I could dive into. Drown in. He's the water and I'm the stone.
"I like bartending. Besides, it's a way out of Prospect pranks." I roll my eyes, but my smile is fond. Along with club dues, Prospects—potential members of the MC—get the grunt work. That’s how it is. But I swear the guys are giving me the extra special treatment, because there’s no way that regular Prospects have to do things like buy hemorrhoid cream and magnum condoms. Then there was the time they sent me to pick something up, and there was nothing at the address they gave me—not even a building.
It's like having a gang of older brothers. Their brand of torture is harmless, but it's a huge pain in my ass. Not to mention a waste of gas. If I'm too busy with work and bartending for them, they ca
n't send me wandering all over the state. At least, that's what I'm banking on.
"Just wait 'til you find out what they've got planned next," Cliff says, kissing the tip of my nose. His hands slide up and down my waist. A hot breeze moves my skirt around my thighs. All I want to do is drag him upstairs with me. I have to get undressed anyway.
He kisses the side of my neck, just under my ear, and I'm melting into him again. My neck arches back, exposing my throat. Leaning down, he licks the slope from my chin to the hollow of my collar bone. His lips rest in the space, notching in as if they were made to fit my body.
"Let me take over Esther's half of your rent." His lips move against my skin as he speaks, and my knees go weak.
Traitors.
"Cliff," I moan. "We have to go." Putting a hand on each side of his chest, I push him away, even though I don't really want to. I want to take him upstairs with me, let this fantasy envelope me for another little while.
It doesn't work that way. Things with Cliff need to stay easy if I'm going to remain intact. No tangling up our lives until he's so deep inside me, I'll never get him out. A man almost ruined me once before. I'll never let it happen again.
"I'll be down in five," I tell him, tone firm. Without looking back at him, I head into The Wet Mermaid.
* * *
The Street Glide hums between my thighs, a constant vibrating purr that reverberates through my bones. This thing is power. It’s the crash of ocean against land, the crush of a flower in a hand, the punishing whip of a sandstorm across the desert.
It already feels like an extension of me.
I push it faster, leaning forward into the wind. My hair lashes out behind me in a stream. If it were possible to do so without getting sand in my mouth, I’d be smiling. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time—and the most free.
Cliff draws even with me, throwing an annoyed glance my way. I lift one shoulder. He motions for me to slow down and pull over, his hands and fingers in black leather gloves.
A Risky Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 2
