And comfort was all I had ever really known.
So when we had finally stepped onto American soil, I had expected things to be much the same. A comfortable home. Food. Good clothing.
The reality had been watching my mother work her fingers to blisters and bleeding, cleaning houses or hotels, working in laundromats, just to keep shitty, leaking roofs over our heads, Good Will clothes on our backs, rice and beans and ketchup in our bellies most nights.
Hard work and sacrifice became our lives.
But little by little over time, all the girls stopped ducking their heads and pressing their lips together around men. The programming that had been so much of their young lives unraveled, leaving them just typical little girls with only vague memories of the times before.
That was my mother's - and my - burden to carry.
"That is why you wanted to provide for her. You feel responsible."
"In a way," I agreed, shrugging. "I had been the reason she had to come here and start over. Work so hard. I wanted to give her a break from that when I was able to."
"I'm sure she would make this choice - even with all the hard work - a thousand times over. To be able to watch her girls not learn that all men are scary. To see her son not become a carbon copy of his father. To never feel angry hands on her skin again. She wanted this for herself and for all of you."
"She did," I agreed, nodding. "But I wanted her to be able to enjoy life a bit too. I work hard now so she doesn't have to."
"You're a good man, Roderick," she said after a long moment, tone dripping with sincerity.
"You know what, Livvy?"
"What?"
"You're a damn good woman too."
Her cheeks went the slightest bit pink at that, her gaze staying stubbornly forward despite being in bumper-to-bumper traffic. "It's true," I insisted. "I know a lot of damn fine women. So I know what I am talking about."
"Thank you," she said, voice small.
And as I watched her profile, a proud little smile teasing the edge of her lips, I had a thought I had never had in my life before.
My mother would love her.
EIGHT
Livianna
"What's with the bad mood?" Astrid asked, following me into my room, shutting the door behind her. "Grinder's remorse?"
A strange snorting noise escaped me at that. "There was no grinding."
Okay.
So there was some grinding.
But it was practically innocent.
I mean, not that my body knew that
It had been on high alert since the moment we had gotten out of that bed.
It only amplified while he told me his story, at times his feelings so strong that he slipped in and out of Spanish while he spoke.
And Roderick speaking Spanish in that deep voice of his? Yeah, let's just say my lady business didn't stand a chance.
By the time we had finally gotten back to the city, the aching pressure on my lower stomach was becoming oppressive, impossible to pretend it didn't exist.
"Liv," Astrid said, voice a little firm for her. "Look at me," she demanded when I had been trying to avoid contact. "If there is anyone in this loft who can pick up on the sex undercurrents, it's me. And I am picking them up. Hell, even Cam is likely picking up on them. That's why he's grumbly."
"He's always grumbly."
"He's being grumbly in Roderick's direction," Astrid insisted. "He feels it. The sex between you two."
"There was no sex!" I insisted. And my unsatisfied body groaned in annoyed agreement.
"There was something."
"There was just like a little... kissing. Maybe a tad of... over-the-clothes grinding."
"Oh, be still my heart," Astrid declared, falling back on the bed, her hand to her heart. "You dry humped Mr. Puerto Rico out there. Is that a thing? Like a male Puerto Rican beauty contest? Because if there isn't, there should be. And your man out there would win every single time. He could be gray and still get the title. It's the dimples."
"It's weird to think of dimples as sexy," I admitted, falling back on the bed with her.
"They're cute on boys. But that guy out there, he isn't a boy. That is all man. And they are sexy. So why was it just making out and dry humping?"
"He went to roll me onto my back but his arm was under me..."
"His bad arm," Astrid guessed. "Ugh. That day just keeps coming back to fuck with you, huh? Well, what's the problem now, then?"
I felt my shoulders shrug. "When he woke up the next morning, he was in a mood."
"Blue balls will do that to a man."
"No. It's... it's like he's over it."
"That man is not over it," she told me, head turning to me on the mattress so I could get the full effect of her eye roll. "His eyes find any excuse to go to you. And he was totally watching your ass while you walked down here. I mean, of course. It is an epic ass. But still. He wants on. He's probably picking up on some vibe from you."
That was likely.
I blew hot and cold.
If he was looking for some kind of reaction, he had likely figured I was not into it.
"Want me to send him in here? Get your jollies on?"
A snort moved through me. "And what would you tell him as you shooed him in here?"
"That you have cobwebs in your lady business that need clearing out."
"I missed you," I told her, meaning it.
"I missed you too. When I found a few minutes where I wasn't working. But all that working got me this," she said, digging into her pocket to produce a piece of yellow lined paper with her all caps writing on the lines. "Apparently, they have one of the Double Triggers that you are looking for. I don't know who this contact is, so I don't know how solid their information is, but I figure it is worth a meeting since every other lead has gone cold. I mean, that isn't a vote of confidence, but we really aren't in a position where we can overlook even the shady leads."
"Yeah," I agreed, sighing.
"You don't want him getting in trouble with his club," Astrid guessed.
"No," I agreed. "He takes care of his mom and sisters with the money he makes from that club. He doesn't deserve to be kicked out because I stole from him."
"You bleeding heart, you," she said with a smile.
"You like him too," I accused, bumping her hip.
"I do. And I think we have all learned our lesson about stealing. Hopefully, we will get the gun before his time is up though."
"Yeah," I agreed, patting her thigh as she sat up.
"That guy - JB - is expecting to hear from you by tomorrow or he says the deal is off."
I exhaled a breath, wondering when - or if - things were going to calm down.
Even after tracking down this gun, it wasn't over. I was going to be out nearly twenty grand. We would be okay, sure, but I didn't just want to be okay. I wanted us to be comfortable, to be able to take a step back when we wanted or needed it. So we were going to have to make up that money. After Christmas. Start the new year off right, hit the ground running and all that.
I rolled the cricks out of my neck and shoulders, climbing deeper into my bed, throwing the blankets over me, feeling the night of near sleeplessness catching up to me after all the hours of watching the road.
Before I even got a chance to roll around much, I was out cold.
"Livvy," Roderick's voice called, low, tentative, seeming like he was sorry to wake me up. A grumbling whine came out of me as my arm swung out, slapping his leg, finding he was sitting on the side of my bed, something that made my eyes slowly slit open. "I know, sorry, mami. But if I didn't come in, Astrid said she was going to wake you up with ice water. I don't know her that well, but I get the feeling that was no empty threat."
"Why do I have to wake up?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes, heavy still with sleep.
"Because you've been sleeping for about twelve hours," he told me, making my eyes open fully, my head swiveling to check the alarm clock on my nightstand.
Twe
lve hours?
How was that possible?
"She said something about how you have to call JB still."
"Shit," I hissed, pushing myself up in the bed, finding him sitting there in just his pajama pants, making another whimper move out of me.
"Cam got donuts," he told me, making me feel mildly less miserable at the thought of fresh coffee. "And since I am not five anymore - and donuts for breakfast don't quite cut it - I made scrambled eggs. You've got to be hungry."
I was.
Starving.
"I am going to call JB, take a quick shower, then come out. Save some eggs for me."
"Sure, mami," he said, hopping up.
Mami.
That was driving me crazy.
It shouldn't have been.
The word - endearment - always kind of rubbed me the wrong way before. But something about the way he said it, yeah, it was stoking the already raging wildfire of need within me.
Enough so that after calling JB who sounded like some white boy trying too hard to sound like a gangsta, I got in the shower and let my hands travel, let them try to take care of the aching need so it didn't keep distracting me all day. The last thing I needed when going to meet another contact was a body that only wanted to jump Roderick.
"Cam, you don't have to go," I insisted a few minutes later after telling everyone about the meet that night. To that, he growled at me, lifting a stubborn brow. And when Camden was in a stubborn mood, there was no talking him out of anything.
"I will hold down the fort, no worries," Astrid declared, saving me from having to tell her I wanted her to hang back. I hated having to tell her that she needed to stay home, that she was a bit of a liability in some ways, on some jobs. It wasn't her fault. She just didn't quite have the instincts, didn't have the reflexes, didn't know how to read a situation quite the way Cam and I did. And hopefully Roderick as well.
It was a bit difficult, in a way, to picture him pulling a gun and squeezing a trigger. Sure, I knew he had done it once before. But he was a child of a turbulent home, trying to protect his mom and little sisters.
He was just so laid back, easy with a smile, quick with the silver tongue.
"Ew stop," Astrid declared, swatting his hand when Roderick tried to scoop eggs onto her plate beside her vanilla frosted donut.
"Astrid hates eggs. And that commercial for charity that spells 'cars' wrong," I told him. "And Cam hates avocados. And pop music. And the sound of hair dryers," I added, nodding to the toast he had spread with avocado.
"What about you, Livvy?"
"What about me?"
"What do you hate?"
"Raisons. Banana chips. Dr. Pepper. Assholes who don't know how to use their turn signals. People who wear mom jeans ironically. Women who don't believe other women."
"What?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Go ahead," Astrid said, shrugging, taking her plate back to the living room. "He's practically family now," she added, making my smile tease up a bit.
"I told Astrid about what happened with Eman within a week or so of her coming to live with us. It was four years of living with us day and night, telling us all about her life with a junkie mom, on and off the streets all her life, when we were out to eat. She just... flipped shit. Ran out of there. There was a guy at the restaurant. Her mom's old boyfriend. Who used to molest her when she was nine. It took her four years of living with us day and night, working with us day and night, never spending more than a few minutes away from us to trust us with that information, that story, that part of her. So it pisses me the fuck off when women don't believe other women when they tell them their truth just because time has passed, because they didn't tell them right away, because they didn't put up billboards telling the world about the worst time of their life. Because it is rare that any of us don't have one of those stories. And the privileged few who don't shouldn't disbelieve the vast majority who do. I hate false sisterhood."
"You would love the chicks in Navesink Bank," Roderick said, shaking his head a bit. "The girls club is this badass group of chicks. You would fit right in."
"Lo, I would imagine, is a member."
"Founding member if you will. And Jstorm, Alex, a whole slew of others. As each Henchmen settles down, there is a new member of the girls club."
"So they're all... criminals?" I asked, brows drawn together.
"Not all, but quite a few."
"Interesting."
"I think, as a whole, only people who are in the lifestyle - at least a little bit - are able to live with the idea of being involved with a Henchmen. There is a lot of uncertainty, worry, and danger involved. Most average people can't handle that."
"That's true enough." Which was why my only friends in the world were in the job with me. There were too many risks. First, in regard to my freedom. You didn't know who you could truly trust, who might turn on you if they got mad. And then there were the chances that they would blame you anytime you got hurt. They could never understand. You might put them at risk by loving them.
It made sense for criminals to date criminals, to associate with criminals.
"What about kids?" I found myself asking.
"What about them?"
"I'm assuming your brothers have some?"
"Most have them."
"And they're not worried? That their lives would put their children in danger?"
It was something I thought of occasionally.
A future.
Settling down.
A husband.
Children.
But even if I managed to sock enough money away that I could retire from the lifestyle, there was always a risk of old enemies tracking you down, using your loved ones against you.
"There's always a risk. Reign's daughter was taken recently. But by her own criminal grandmother. But we are lucky in that we have Hailstorm. If there is a threat, all the women and kids head up there. It's one of the safest places on the east coast." He paused, taking a sip of his cold coffee. "Do you want kids, Liv?"
"Someday, yeah. You?"
"I don't have much of a choice in the matter," he said, smiling big, all stunning white teeth.
"Your mother," I guessed.
"My mother," he agreed. "Though, I like the idea of kids. A whole litter of 'em."
"How many is a litter?" I asked, finding myself smiling.
"Three, four. Something like that."
"What about you, Cam?" Astrid asked from the couch. "Do you want any kids?"
Cam shrugged, but I saw more than a shrug. I saw want there, a desire for something he wasn't sure he could ever have.
"What about you, Astrid?"
"Can't risk fucking up some innocent thing. Maybe I can adopt other fuck ups and we can be fuck ups together."
I could see her doing that. Not quite the way she described, of course. But I could see her growing up, working through her issues, settling down, and then deciding to open her home to teen girls who reminded her of the girl she had once been. That was a future I wanted for her, in fact.
The conversation went a little lighter from then on, discussing various little things we liked or hated, retelling old war stories, laughing over some of the antics of Roderick's brothers.
Before we knew it, it was time to get going.
It was funny how Roderick seemed to simply fall into line with us, getting up to grab a gun when we went to fetch our own, slip into a more serious, silent role as we all filed out, reminding Astrid to lock up after us, to keep an ear for her phone, then shuffled into the SUV - Cam driving, me up front, Roderick in the back even though it was his damn car.
Then we made our way to The Bronx - a place we didn't love doing work in.
"Hunts Point," I mumbled as we parked.
"Is it a bad place?" Roderick asked, looking around. "To be honest, the whole city looks like a hell hole, so it is hard to tell the difference between the good and bad areas."
That was fair enough.
"Well, it's not a
great area," I said, rolling my neck, trying to stop the weird tingle at the base of my spine. "You guys ready?"
Cam sent me a look that said he felt the tingle too, but we both seemed to understand that this was simply something we had to do, not having any other leads to go on.
We moved down the alley between two buildings as we were instructed, then into a covered lot.
"You Liv?" a man asked, coming out from behind a support beam.
JB was pushing thirty but dressing like he was nineteen with oversized, sagging pants, a giant basketball tee and a backward red cap over his Slim Shady peroxide-blonde hair.
I hated bangers. Not just because street violence often left a lot of innocent people dead in the crossfire, but because the goddamn baggy clothes made it impossible to know if and what they might be packing.
"That's me," I agreed, lifting my chin a little as he did a once-over. It was all par for the course. Most contacts objectified me. That was simply how it was.
"Even sexier than you sound on the phone," he commented, making me wonder if I could cause ocular damage from holding back an eye roll so hard.
But Cam and Roderick closed in ranks a bit, making it clear that I wasn't here to be a play toy, to be hit on, to be used in any way.
"Cut the shit, JB. Do you have the gun or not?"
"Oh, me, baby? I have lots of guns. We have lots of guns. Don't we?" he asked and like some cheesy movie where a bunch of green idiots walk into a clear trap, members of JB's gang closed in ranks on all sides of us.
Roderick's fingers tapped my hip in what felt like a silent plea not to jump to conclusions, that this was not the time for hot-headedness, that maybe they were just putting on a show, trying to seem more important than they were.
"If we're done with the theatrics, show me the gun, so we can get this over with before someone calls the cops on us all."
"Chill, baby. What's the rush? Ain't nobody tell you it's better to build up the anticipation?"
"Ain't nobody tell you that 'ain't' isn't a word and double negatives make you sound like an idiot?"
Crap.
That just got away from me.
"Oh, she's got spirit. Know what I could do to shut that mouth up, bitch?"
Roderick Page 11
