by Linda Kage
I shifted, uncomfortable, wondering if he thought I’d escaped or something. “I just got out on parole.” Lifting my hand in the direction of what had once been my home, I said, “The house...the place where I grew up... It’s gone. There’s a gas station there now.”
Pick nodded. “Yeah. They put that up about five years ago.”
Five years ago? I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What...well, what happened to the house?”
I had no idea why I asked that; what I really wanted to know was what had happened to my family. Why had they left? Where had they gone?
Bainbridge was behind this, I just knew it. After he’d taken care of me, he’d gone after my family next. Shit. I should’ve known.
“Man...” Pick shook his head slowly. Regret filled his eyes. “Did no one tell you?”
The way he watched me, sympathetic and worried, made my skin itch. It had always prickled the same way in prison right before someone jumped me. Heeding the warning, I tightened my muscles, bracing for impact. “Tell me what?”
“The, uh...the house burned. There was a house fire. It burned all the way to the ground.”
I stared at him so hard he winced and glanced away. That wasn’t all, I realized. There was more.
“And my family?” I said slowly. My chest heaved, telling me my breathing had picked up.
Another grimace clouded Pick’s face. I took a step back, not ready to hear this. But then he met my gaze and solemnly said, “I’m sorry.”
I clutched my stomach and doubled.
“Oh, shit,” Ten breathed. His sympathetic curse after being a total douche to me only made my urge to puke increase.
I concentrated on breathing through my mouth as the nausea mounted. “All of them?” I choked out. My entire fucking family? Gone?
“Most of them,” Pick said, his voice low. “Your mom. Your sister. Your niece.”
I sobbed out a miniature moan and immediately jammed my fist against my teeth to muffle anything else that might try to escape.
But Pick kept going. “And one of your brothers. I’m sorry, I don’t remember which one.”
I nodded as if it was okay, but it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. My stomach certainly wasn’t okay. I dashed to the backside of Zoey’s car, braced my hand against the trunk and leaned over to vomit, but nothing came up except the taste of acid, which sucked more than if I could actually puke because it didn’t settle my nausea any.
Behind me, Ten said, “Holy fuck, no one bothered to tell him half his fucking family died in a house fire? Man, that’s harsh.”
Ignoring him, I stooped there another minute until I felt safe enough to stand. But as soon as I straightened, the queasiness returned.
I watched Pick from unfocused eyes. “What about the rest of them?” I asked, my gravelly voice even rougher than usual. “Do you know where they are?”
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then winced before shaking his head.
He knew; he just didn’t want to tell me.
“What?” I demanded.
“Your dad,” he started slowly. “Got drunk out by the train yard a few years later. He was hit and...died. Then one of your brothers—again, I’m not sure which one—overdosed on drugs.”
I sniffed up air hard through my nostrils and nodded. “And the other two?” I asked, not looking at him. “The rest of my brothers?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They went into foster care for a while and then went their own way. I have no idea where they are now.”
Blowing out a long breath, I bowed my head and reassured myself that I most likely still had two brothers out there somewhere.
“How long have you been out?” Pick asked quietly.
I swallowed. “About an hour.”
“Shit.” He sighed. “And you obviously have no place to go since you went home, only to find it...not there. Did you have anywhere else in mind to stay?”
I glanced around the parking lot as if seeking a shelter, but all I saw was a sea of cars. So I shook my head. “No.”
“That’s what I thought. Look, Ten and I were going to go inside and wait for some word about Zoey and the baby, but I can take you somewhere to crash for a few days until you get on your feet.”
I blinked at him, not sure why he was so willing to help me. I couldn’t offer him anything in return. I had nothing. And no one gave shit away for free.
Pick Ryan had always been a good guy in school. But if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that everything had changed in the last six years.
It wasn’t as if I had any other options, though. And a place to crash would be nice.
Maybe I could play along until I learned the catch.
“You sure?” I asked, watching him intently, trying to discover his ulterior motive.
Pick clasped my shoulder warmly. “Yeah, man. Of course. It’s no problem.” Waving Ten away, he called, “Let me know as soon as you get word about Zoey, okay?”
Ten flipped him off in answer and started toward the hospital as Pick guided me to an old Barracuda across the parking lot.
Once we were away from his friend, he drew in a deep breath and glanced over at me. “Now...let’s talk business.”
And here it came.
I jerked to a stop, suddenly realizing where this was going. A big guy like me, straight from the pen...I guess I did have some use.
“Fuck that,” I growled in Pick’s face. “I’m not going to be some drug runner for you, or hit man, or—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Laughing, Pick lifted his hands and shook his head. “No, you got me all wrong, Parker.”
I tipped my head to the side, scowling, not sure what he was trying to pull.
After one last chuckle, he let out a long sigh. “I own a nightclub,” he explained. “And Quinn—Zoey’s husband—is one of my bartenders. I was already looking for a spot to fill since business has been booming, but now that Hamilton will be down with Zoey, I’m going to need help a lot sooner than I expected. It’s completely legitimate work. Nothing under the table. I’ll need your social security number and all that other legal bullshit to even hire you. So, now...are you interested?”
He seemed serious, so I frowned, even more confused. I’d just gotten out of the slammer, learned my family was gone, and someone was offering me a completely legitimate job?
It didn’t even sound possible.
I shook my head. “Wait, you own a nightclub?”
In school, he’d been one of the kids in foster care, always kicked around from one home to another and eating half-priced poor-kid lunches with me. “How’d you swing that?”
He grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “I fell in love with some rich man’s daughter.”
My stomach flared with heat as I narrowed my eyes. If he’d been trying to make a dig at me, he’d succeeded. I wanted to grab his neck and squeeze.
When I actually took a menacing step toward him, realization widened his eyes. He instantly lifted both his hands. “Not your rich man’s daughter. Shit. Sorry. No. Someone else entirely...from Florida.”
I don’t know why, but my coiled muscles immediately loosened. Why the hell had I been so affronted? Even if he had been talking about her, it wouldn’t have mattered. She wasn’t my rich man’s daughter. She wasn’t my anything. Not any longer. She most likely belonged to someone else now. Some lucky, rich fucker who’d never been in jail, never killed anyone with his bare hands or turned into a soulless monster. Someone who deserved her.
And her rich daddy probably approved of him, too.
“No, this is a totally different rich man’s daughter,” Pick went on. Then he shrugged. “And my situation obviously turned out better for me than yours did for you.”
“Obviously,” I said dryly.
He cleared his throat, forced a smile, and pressed, “So, about that job...”
It was bound to happen. The Bainbridge family was fated to cross paths in public with the Parker family. I was just glad my fath
er or Garrett wasn’t around when it did.
Mother had taken me to the ladies’ boutique on Broadway to get a dress for the cotillion she and her friends had set up as a charity fundraiser. I had no idea why people paid money to go watch other people parade their daughters around in fancy, frivolous dresses, but their yearly cotillions always brought in more cash than any other fundraiser.
Mother found her favorite dress for me within an hour¸ only making me try on half a dozen outfits. It was laid out in a plastic bag she had draped over her arm when we left the boutique. We turned left to start toward her car when we had to pull up short to keep from getting run over by the rowdy mob leaving the hardware store next door.
A bunch of talkative, hyper boys surrounded two women, the younger lady cradling a baby to her chest.
I realized it was the Parker family about the same moment my mother gasped and jerked me backward away from them.
Mrs. Parker froze as well, causing her daughter to pause and look up questioningly before meeting my gaze.
I had to admit, Knox’s sister was pretty. She had dark hair and eyes, just like him, but her bone structure looked more fragile and feminine, whereas he came across as sturdy and solid, masculine. She had big boobs, too. As she bounced the fussing infant, they stretched and heaved under her shirt.
Garrett liked big boobs on girls. I’d come across him and Tad looking at porn too often not to know this. He’d probably like these—
And that’s when I realized I was checking out some girl’s rack. I yanked my gaze up, only to see bags under her eyes.
Mercedes Parker looked way too young to be that worn. Sympathy flared inside me.
She didn’t share the sentiment, though. When she met my gaze, her eyes narrowed. Almost as if challenging me, she ripped the cap off her daughter, exposing a head full of thick red hair. Then she turned enough so that I could see the child’s face, especially her bright blue eyes.
“Oh my God,” I blurted, too shocked to do much past gape at the kid.
I knew I’d spoken out of turn the moment the words left my mouth, but my mother still felt the need to squeeze my arm, hard.
I sucked in a pained breath. “I mean... She just... She looks—” Mother’s squeeze turned into the beginning stage of amputation, so I swallowed the rest of my surprise.
Mercedes Parker glared at me. Her mother glared at me. Heck, even her unruly younger brothers calmed down enough to glare at me. Mother and I were sadly outnumbered and surrounded by a sea of killer glares. I edged toward her, almost afraid of so many glaring Parkers, only to discover my mother was glaring at me too.
Silence reigned.
I have no idea who would’ve spoken first, or what they would’ve said, but the standoff was interrupted by the dinging of the bell over the entrance of the hardware store as the door swung open again. Hauling a fifty-pound bag of dry dog food over one shoulder and cradling a brown paper sack under the other arm, Knox stopped whistling when he found his family halted just outside the door.
“What’s the holdup?” A split second later, his gaze connected with mine.
He pulled his head back, and his lips parted. Then he shifted his gaze to my mother, and his eyes grew dark. Jaw hard, he muttered, “Well, let’s get on. There’s nothing to see here.”
My chin trembled, and his family reluctantly followed his orders, moving past and casting us one final collective glower as they did. I was grateful Knox had saved us from death by glare, but I was also insulted that he’d called me nothing worth seeing.
He waited at the end of his family line, only to gaze once more between my mother and me. Then he killed all my hurt feelings by uttering a quiet, “Ladies,” in a respectful if not tight-lipped voice before he stepped past us and trailed after the rest of the Parker clan.
My shoulders loosened and breath heaved as I turned to stare after him. But he was so freaking beautiful. The stretch of the back of his shoulders as he held the bag of dog food was breathtaking. And his backside was just plain—
“Stop staring at that filth,” Mother hissed, yanking on my arm that had pretty much lost all sensation by now.
“But that baby—” Surely, she’d seen it. Surely, she knew—
She slapped me. Hard. Right across the cheek.
My mother wasn’t the warmest, most loving parent in the world, but she’d never slapped me before. It shocked me into shutting up.
I gaped at her as she pointed a threatening finger at my nose. “I don’t know where that brat got its red hair, but it wasn’t from any son of mine. Do you understand?”
I blinked, feeling like a coward, because I wanted to call her out and I knew I wouldn’t. But she knew—had probably always known—that baby belonged to Garrett.
How could she just stand there and deny her own blood?
“Felicity,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “Do. You. Understand?”
I dropped my gaze and nodded. Of course, I understood, and I hated what I suddenly knew.
“Good.” She grabbed my arm once more, her grip still too hard. “We’ll never speak of this again.”
She dragged me to the car, and I couldn’t help but to glance back one last time. When I did, Knox was beginning to glance back too.
We both whirled away as soon as we made eye contact, but the zing of knowing he’d wanted another look at me too followed me through the rest of the day.
I found myself loitering at the beginning of the woods close to my house every afternoon, religiously. I wandered aimlessly around the property line, keeping myself occupied with a small survival kit I toted along with me. And at dusk, I slumped home, disappointed.
Three days later, I hit pay dirt when I saw a form slipping stealthily through the trees toward me.
My heart leapt into my throat.
He’d come back.
He didn’t see me, so I slunk behind a tree and slipped in behind him as soon as he passed. Exhilarated by his nearness, I bit my lip to contain my grin, but it escaped anyway. Right before he left the canopy of the woods and could step into the clearing that started our lawn, I cleared my throat.
Startled, he spun around and crouched, lifting his hands in a defensive manner. One fist was full with a rank, used diaper.
His ninja stance looked ridiculous with that clutched in his death grip. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I blurted out a laugh. “I swear, if you use that diaper against me, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Holy shit, Felicity.” Shoulders falling, he dropped his hands—and that diaper—down to his side. Then he straightened to his full height. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
I continued to grin. “Yeah, well, I think you would’ve been more scared this evening if the sheriff showed up on your front porch, because he set up a spy cam in Garrett’s room. Next time you step foot in there, with one of those—” I tipped my chin toward the diaper, “you’ll be caught on camera.”
He breathed a curse under his breath and immediately let the diaper fall to the ground by his feet. After a wrinkle of his brows, though, he sent me a suspicious frown. “Are you playing me right now? Did they really set up a spy cam?”
I scowled back and set my hands on my hips. “Feel free to go inside and find out for yourself if I’m lying.”
Knox studied me a second longer. Then he blew out a breath and ran his hands through his hair. After glancing longingly toward my house, as if the urge to vandalize Garrett’s bed was more than he could take, he turned back to me. “Why do you keep helping me, saving me from getting caught?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Be-because...” I shrugged and glanced away. I couldn’t tell him it was because he was pretty; that was a stupid reason. Except it kind of was the reason.
God, I was such an idiot.
“I need to show you something,” I blurted instead as I ripped my Kindle from the book bag I had strapped over my shoulder, where I’d housed snacks and drinks and stories to help me pass the time whi
le I’d been playing stakeout and waiting for him to show.
As I turned it on and flipped my way into the photo file, Knox wandered closer until I could smell his musky, apple boy scent. My fingers fumbled. I cleared my throat and finally scrolled to the picture I was seeking.
“Here.” I pressed on it to enlarge it.
Knox frowned and took the Kindle from my hand. “How’d you get a picture of Bentley?”
“Bentley?” After a second of confused frowning, I gasped. “You mean, the baby’s name is Bentley?” When I made a face, he glanced up at me, lifting his eyebrows.
I cleared my throat and immediately tried to soften my expression.
He watched me with an amused smirk.
“Bentley,” I repeated again, much calmer this time. “That’s...” I wanted to say something positive, but I’d never heard of anyone naming a girl Bentley, and to me, it sounded strange.
Knox’s lips twitched as he recognized my dilemma and loved my distress. “Mercy thought it should be a car name, since she’s Mercedes.”
I nodded dumbly. “Well, I guess it’s good she didn’t go with Lamborghini or Porsche, or...Ferrari.”
His eyebrows arched. “So you think Bentley is actually better than Lamborghini, Porsche, and...Ferrari?”
When it struck me that he wasn’t a big fan of the name either, I burst into a relieved smile and had to admit, “Not really.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, I give her crap about the name daily.”
Geez, why did he have to look so good when he smiled?
“Do you really have brothers named Cobra and Speed?” I asked, just to keep him talking and maybe smiling some more.
His laugh grew louder as he threw his head back. “Unfortunately, yes. There’s also Hash and Rocket.”
“Wow. You have the most normal name of the group.”
Eyes glittering with amusement, he shook his head. “Yeah, well my middle name’s—”
“Arrow,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
When he pulled back in surprise, my eyes flashed wide. “I mean...” Oh my God. I was trapped. Now he knew I was a creepy stalker who’d hunted up his middle name.
