by Kali Brixton
“Oh my God… Y’all are like Romeo and Juliet,” Lia clutches her heart and gives us a pout as we both laugh at her.
In many ways, I guess we are.
Only the dagger now sticking out of my heart wasn’t put there by his hand or mine.
It was put there by my own brother’s.
38
Luca
I’m going to kill that asshole.
Walking into the gym where Everleigh’s family has trained for so many years to murder said asshole might be the equivalent of strolling casually into a lion’s den and expecting to walk away with your innards still intact. Since Kieran won’t answer my damn phone calls or texts, though, he’s left me with no choice.
Public execution, it is.
Because that’s what a man does for the woman he loves. He doesn’t let her struggle when she doesn’t have to, nor does he stand by and let her shoulder burdens she shouldn’t have to carry in the first place. Even as independent as Everleigh is, she deserves to have someone to go to bat for her the way she has for others throughout the years.
After she filled in all the missing pieces the other day, including what happened with her job, Rory’s adoption hanging in the balance, and what my ex-best friend said to her about Mystery Girl, which is completely on me, I decided enough was enough. Fuck that and fuck him for being so cruel to her when he’s part of the reason she ended up dancing at that shithole Vince Perelli owned.
He spots me as he’s circling his opponent. “Since you don’t have your girlfriend—or one of them, at least—to save your ass this time, I suggest you leave.”
Striding toward him, I don’t speak a word, as none need to be spoken. I simply let my fist do the talking.
Blood splatters on the ground and my knuckles as they meet his smug face. Scattered curses fill the gym. Two guys pull me off him before I can get in another hit. Someone hollers at Rian, who’s now running out of the owner’s office, as Kieran gets up, holding his nose.
How’s them apples taste, bitch?
He comes at me, but a redheaded blur steps between us, a hand held up on both our chests. “Both of you, in that room, right now!” Our stare-down continues until I narrow my eyes at him and go to the room Rian just directed us toward. “I didn’t stutter, mac. Now.” His last words echo through the gym, which is now silent as the grave.
When we enter the room, Rian points to the chair at one end of the table and pushes me in that direction, then does the same with Kieran. “I’m going to go get some ice and a towel. You two mess up this office and I’ll mess you up myself when I get back.” The door bangs shut, leaving us in the eerie quiet of our broken friendship.
We sit there and stare at each other, my patched up face and his soon-to-be one, until he breaks the silence. “Fucking traitor.”
“This coming from the asshole who just stabbed his own sister in the back,” I deadpan, shaking my head.
He drops his head just enough to look me in the eye. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern, although you’d be the expert on that topic, wouldn’t you?” My jaw tightens at his words. A fair blow, but still a low one. “Oh, wait. I guess you need to defend your little side piece so she’ll keep screwing you while you’re going after Mystery Girl.”
My fist, still reeling from hitting his hard head, slams down on the table. “Are you seriously that fucking stupid, Kieran? Who the hell do you think Mystery Girl is?”
“Like it even matters anymore,” he quips.
“Yeah, it sure as hell does…” And now for the moment, I’ve been dreading for years. “Because your sister is Mystery Girl, dumbass.”
His lips part for a second before the rage settles in. He beats his fist on the table and stands, ready to go again. I get out of my seat to meet that challenge when the door opens again, to reveal a pissed-off Irishman. “Seats. Now.”
We lower ourselves back into our seats as Rian tosses the towel and the bag of ice to Kieran and pulls up a seat of his own in the middle. “Have you two lost your damn minds?”
Kieran doesn’t waste a second. “I wasn’t the one who came in here and started everything.”
“Seriously? So, you didn’t insinuate your sister’s some kind of whore?” I can feel my nostrils flaring.
Rian gives me a stony look before turning it to his son. “You did what now?”
Kieran’s head leans back, more than likely to avoid his father’s gaze, and he brings the towel to his still-bleeding nose. “Of course. Take her side, just like you always do.”
Rian’s shoulders roll before he crosses his arms and rests them on the table, never breaking his stare. “I don’t know what your problem is, son, but if you’ve got something to say, be a man and spill it. Because I didn’t raise you to disrespect women, least of all, your sister.”
Kieran hoots out a sad laugh. “Let’s talk about the fact that you’ve always held the little princess up on a pedestal while I’m just the royal fuck-up of the family. Even though I'm not the one sleeping around on my wife.”
Oh, shit.
There’s a vein throbbing in Rian’s forehead that doesn’t normally do that. “Why in the hell would you ever assume something like that?”
Kieran grabs the bag of ice and puts it over top of the towel. “Please... Jonesy down at the GBI already told me that his partner Petey saw you going into that motel with that bitch.”
“Watch your mouth!” Rian bellows as his fist slams onto the table. This rickety table isn’t going to be worth shit once we get done with it. “Jonesy. That’s your source? Amos Jones and his sorry excuse for a partner, both of whom are currently under investigation for taking hush money and transporting cocaine for a drug ring. One that’s also recruiting children to do their dirty deeds?”
Kieran’s jaw ticks. “Has nothing to do with the fact that you were at that motel, does it, Dad?”
“Why the fuck do you think I was at that motel in the first place, Kieran? I volunteered to help catch the bastards who tried to get two of the Hope House kids to be their package boys.” He stands up to face his son, who’s now trying every which way to avoid looking at his dad. “And that bitch is Captain Darlene Ritters, who oversees the DEA task force handling the case and was undercover as well, so you show some fucking respect. That motel is where the sting’s going down. Petey only saw me there because the asshole was picking up a shipment to transport in his cruiser.”
Kieran’s head drops and I think it has nothing to do with his neck being too tired.
“Now, got any other brain teasers? Or is there something you’d like to address before jumping to wild conclusions?”
Staring at the table, Kieran asks, “Then, why didn’t Mom just tell me that’s what you were doing when I talked to her?”
Rian returns to his seat, the chair groaning under his burly weight. “Because I asked your mother not to tell you or Kher Bear about anything. I wanted to keep you all out of it because I knew you both would want to help, especially where it involves the Hope House kids.” He pops his jaw, then scratches his scruffy chin. “I helped raise two people to care about what happens to others and to do the right thing. Dammit all, if they didn’t both go the extra mile and turn out to be the kind of people who would run into a fire instead of running from it to save themselves.”
If only you knew how true that statement is, Rian.
“Now, what’s the whole reason you two were about to bare-knuckle brawl out there?” His hazel eyes look from him to me, then me to him.
Even though Kieran’s eaten his share of humble pie plus some, he decides to be generous and makes sure I get my own slice. “Ask Luca. He’s the one who’s been banging Everleigh since college.”
Ignoring Rian’s murderous stare because I didn’t expect to be buried along with Kieran today, I meet Kieran’s snide gaze. “That’s not the full story and you know that. I would’ve never dishonored Gia like that, even though I have zero romantic feelings toward her and vice versa. That was a business a
rrangement. If I could have, I would’ve come and talked to you about Everleigh back in college the right way, the way I wanted to, but circumstances as they were, my hands were tied.” My cheeks burn hot with the next words I have to say, but it’s got to be done if Rian’s going to respect me and see that I’m the right man to be with his daughter. “I’ve loved her for years, and yes, I’ve expressed that love to her, but I intend to make her my wife one day…” I glance to Rian, who’s watching me intently. “With your permission, of course, sir.” I return my glare to Kieran. “So when some asshole hurts her, you can be damn sure he and I are going to have words, especially when he questions her integrity. Especially when she’s sacrificed a lot to keep her family protected from assholes like Vince Perelli.”
Rian sits forward. “Vince Perelli?”
Ah, fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. “That’s her story to tell, sir.”
He nods, then cuts back to Kieran. “I expect you to make things right with your sister. And don’t go telling her your cockamamie horse shite about me having an affair.”
He nods as I blow a raspberry. “She already thinks that.”
“And why is that?” Rian asks as his eyes squint at me.
I look to Kieran who knows his goose is cooked. He groans. “Because I told him to tell Ev while I was away on assignment.”
Rian exhales, a deep grumble rumbling in his chest. “You need to apologize to Ev—and I mean, for everything—and be at the house with her tomorrow at five p.m.”
Kieran’s shoulders slump forward. “Yes, sir.”
“Or I swear to all that is holy, I will beat your ass, then ground you ‘til we’re both dead. Am I clear?”
Kieran nods. “She’s never going to forgive me for any of this shit, though.”
It’s the first time I’ve seen him look the slightest bit remorseful about all this mess—and I know exactly how he feels. “I spent years knowing I destroyed my sister’s faith in me and thought it was better to just accept the fact that she wouldn’t forgive me,” I say. He flicks his green-eyed stare at me, looking like the male version of his mom—and of course, the sister he’s hurt so deeply. “But she does. Every day when she can choose to hang onto that hatred, she forgives me, even though I’ll never deserve it.” Because that’s my sister, and that’s the kind of cloth she and Ev are both cut from. “You need to fix it now, though. The longer it wears on, the harder it is to apologize for shit you had no business doing or saying in the first place.”
His dad mulls over my words and nods toward the door. “Go home and start working on your apology.”
Kieran gets up from the table and doesn’t spare me a glance on the way out. Why does it feel like he was closing the door on our friendship as well?
Maybe he is.
But I’m not giving up Everleigh for anyone. We’ve come too far to let anything tear us apart again…
Except maybe the man who looks like he doesn’t know whether to tear my head from my body and use it as a bowling ball or to cut my sack off and make marbles out of my gonads.
Death and genital mutilation could definitely put a damper on the plans I have for our future.
“Seems like you and I have some things to discuss.”
I try to meet his gaze without faltering.
Rian’s always been an intimidating man depending on who he’s pissed at. He’s no longer Rian Greene, the fallen husband. He’s back to being Rian Greene, the man who’s deserving of Ev’s praise all these years and that’s the most intimidating part of all because I value her opinion of others. “I’m assuming I don’t want to know why Kieran thinks Everleigh is sleeping with an almost-married man.”
“Probably not, sir,” I sheepishly respond. Yeah, most definitely not.
He leans forward on the table and laces his fingers together. “What can you tell me about Friday at your rehearsal dinner?”
I fill him in as best as I can without disclosing that Papi Dean had prior knowledge of the bomb as well as possibly knowing who planted it. Truth be told, that person did a public service by ridding Atlanta of Antonio Cervelli and my grandfather, a good man, shouldn’t be punished for it. Explaining how I had planned to tell Ev I loved her when we were in college but was derailed, I owned up to the hurt I caused her, tweaking the actual words I said because again, finding my way to the afterlife won’t exactly help me or her out on this. He appears to be moderately impressed at the lengths I was willing to go to to get back to her once more.
“So, let me ask you a question, Luca. A person who goes through all that because he loves someone must have more permanent intentions for the future. Correct?”
I nod in agreement.
“I’ve known you for a long time and I think you’re a good man. But I need to know one thing.” Whatever it is must deserve his undivided attention because it’s like he’s trying to peer deep within my soul. “Why do you deserve to be the man in my daughter and future granddaughter’s life?”
The situation with Rory is slightly up in the air until I can figure out something with Jarrett. My spine straightens anyhow. “Because I love them both and I’ll be a good provider for them.”
He smiles. “That’s a good answer...” Relieved I go to thank him, but he cuts me off. “But it’s not the right one.” My heart deflates like a busted balloon. “However, if you’ll come tomorrow at five-thirty to our house, you can try again.” His knuckles wrap on the table before he gets up, reaching me his hand.
“Yes, sir.” Reaching him mine, we shake on it.
I’ll be there with bells on.
I just hope I have the answer he’s looking for.
39
Everleigh
Let’s see what’s left on the To-Do List for today…
Talk to Jarrett and Greta about the RISE and job situation.
Done. Greta has been wonderfully understanding about everything even though things are still up in the air, and Jarrett told Luca to see him before he leaves work today. I’m hoping it will mean good news, even though I fucked up royally.
Plot the demise of Deirdre, Maxine, Alex, and the unknown fucker, if there even is one, who got me fired.
Already did that twice, although I have to be strategic about Google searches. They monitor that shit, you know.
Not answer Kieran’s 88,000 pathetic texts and incessant phone calls.
Check. With gusto. And that leaves…ah, yes.
Knocking out a 350-lb. asshole who ran his mouth at some teenage girl at the gym.
Impromptu item, but fun nonetheless.
I came to Duke’s this afternoon to blow off some steam. Instead, I wound up with Duke sassing me when the big oaf who thought he could push around the teenage girl in the corner left here with his tail tucked between his legs. He found out today was not my day to suffer fools. I’ve seen the girl around here before. She’s scrappy, but undisciplined, and needs someone to work with her. In the right hands, she could be the next Amanda Nunes. Either way, the kid has the makings of a killer; what type she’ll become, though, is questionable. When the kid went to the locker room with her head hung low, I cracked my neck and channeled my inner Madam Isis—goddess of the wind and destroyer of the long-winded.
Step one was to weave the web. You know, go over and act like I’m a helpless woman who needs some big man to show little ol’ me how to throw a punch without breaking a nail. He obliged, giving me the look as my curves bounced around trying to “impress him,” complete with a couple of giggles.
Step two was to wait for the fly to come to mama. And come, it did. He relished in the chance to be my knight-in-shining-armor, pretending he knew what he was talking about (he didn’t), try to show me “effective” moves to disarm an opponent (they weren’t), and the pièce de résistance, offer me his number to call him for “private” lessons (no thanks, Sasquatch).
Step three? Make the idiot sorry he crossed mine and that girl’s path. The poor dumb animal didn’t know what hit him when I made a few light punche
s to his cheekbone, then threw an uppercut to his marshmallow head and knocked his ass out. Then came Duke’s sassfest. Well, at least until the crybaby jackass left; then those grumblings morphed into damn near crying laughter.
For the last thirty minutes, I’ve been peacefully punching the bag in front of me, pretending its name is Dickhead and looks exactly like my asshat brother.
Duke calls me psychotic.
I call myself a giant-slaying, ass-kicker extraordinaire.
We’re both correct.
“Aye, Ev! You up for another round?” Duke hollers out across the way.
I punch the bag one last time. Why not? Other than checking in tonight with Luca about his and Jarrett’s conversation and hopefully achieving a couple of orgasms, courtesy of that silver-tongued litigator, I’m done for the day. Since I don’t have a day job to channel my energy into and my nights as Madam Isis have come to a halt, I’ve tried to fill up my time with anything and everything that reminds me of the good things in my life and helps me to forget the bad shit.
Getting into the ring, I prepare my mindset for my opponent. Since my asshole brother’s been on my mind a lot today, I think this poor sap who’s getting ready to crawl in the ring with me is going to be the surrogate for the asshat who leveled me with his baseless accusations last Saturday. Though it shouldn’t be too hard to pretend since walking behind Duke with a bandage on his nose and two semi-black eyes is my reason for the rage today.
Without one word, I storm past Duke and bypass Kieran. Hell no. That fucker doesn’t deserve my time nor my energy—today or any day.
“Ev!” He calls out my name. I ignore him, deciding to grab my gym bag and head on home. Duffle in hand, I make my way toward the door as he chases after me. “Ev, come on!” he pleads, with no response from me.
He doesn’t deserve the fire, so he’ll get the ice.
My headlights blink as the doors of my Jeep unlock. My Durango was more of a purchase made for grocery-getting, car seat-hauling, and smoking idiots who think they want to race me at a light. Those aren’t ponies under the hood, those are stallions—710 of them, to be exact. However, those stallions drink gasoline like it’s going out of style, so my old, faithful Jeep is a nice get-around vehicle. Now, I just need it to get me far away from the pollutant in our gene pool.
