by Sara V. Zook
His eyes never left mine as he ripped open my blouse and lifted the bottom of my skirt. His hand was on the inside of my thigh as I arched my back just waiting—wanting. I reached up and ran my fingers through the back of his brown hair that was still damp from his shower. He pressed against me, his hardened length against my leg as he released his hold with my eyes and ravished my mouth with his tongue. He wasn’t taking this slow. No, he needed his release. When he entered me just as roughly as he’d placed me down on the table, I gasped and held on for dear life as I let Nicky forget—if only momentarily—exactly who he was as he buried himself in me again and again.
I raked my fingers down his back as he bit down hard on my shoulder. I stared up at the ceiling, the magnificent chandelier hanging down painted in dark stones and metals, as Nicky’s thrusts grew stronger and more violent. I didn’t scream out though. I let him cling to me and do with me what he would as I silently prayed that this wouldn’t be the last time that Nicky Cain needed me like this. Something told me things were changing more drastically in Nicky’s world than even I was aware of. Nicky said he was worried about me. Maybe I should be the one worried about him—about us.
ELEVEN
CAIN
“Nicky! You in here?”
I walked out of the kitchen to the large doors that led to the elevator. Seton was standing there shaking his head.
“What is it? I’m in the middle of getting something to eat.”
“You’re going to want to see this.”
“What?” I asked. What in the hell could possibly go wrong now?
Seton pointed to the window behind me. “Take a look for yourself.”
I peered outside where I saw a few of my men—Brock in particular—pushing some other guy around. He looked…old. All I could see was his shaggy shoulder-length gray hair. Then he turned around, and I got a good look at his face.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“Told you,” Seton said, hurrying to follow me as I reached for my coat.
I scrambled to get out to the front of the mansion as quickly as possible. I was furious, my fist ready at my side to kick some ass as I opened the front doors and went right in between Brock and the guy I recognized to be my pathetic piece of shit uncle.
Grabbing the old man by his shirt collar, I ripped him around to face me. His eyes were large with alarm at first, then recognition. A smile revealing a lot of missing teeth spread out over his face as if he were happy to see me. “What are you doing here?” I growled at him, my other hand still clenched into a fist.
“Nicky!” he exclaimed, trying to extend his arms like he was going to hug me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warned him, giving him a shove backward. “What are you doing here?” I repeated. Man, I hated having to repeat myself, especially to a man I completely loathed with every fiber of my being.
“Who is this guy?” Brock asked. He looked angry as hell.
I didn’t say anything.
“What happened?” I asked him.
“This asshole came right in and acts like he owns the goddamn place,” Brock explained. “Took a beer right out of my hand and put his mouth all over it.”
“Why are you here, Dusty?” I said loudly, acknowledging my uncle by his first name. He was my mother’s brother. She gave into him all the time, even when she had nothing. He was a leech, feeding off of others while he was lazy and did nothing, expecting everything to be handed to him as if the world owed him. I hated him for everything he wasn’t, especially a father for Stan when he was growing up. I didn’t have a chance to know Carmine as a child, but Dusty just stood by and let Stan raise himself, let his sister, my mom, raise him for her. He was pathetic—still was as far as I was concerned. And he should be back in Lazerne being the loser he always was. Lazerne is where he belonged.
“I’m here to see you, Nicky.”
“How’d you know where to find me?” I questioned him, but my eyes searched the small crowd of men as my brain processed it all at a million miles a minute. That’s when I found him cowering near one of the Triplets. “Stan?” I walked over to my cousin and got right in his face. “How does he know where I am, Stan?”
My cousin threw up his hands as I glared at him with disgust.
“You fucking told him?” I asked through gritted teeth, my temper getting the best of me now. Stan, of all people, knew exactly how I felt about his low-life so-called father. He knew because he supposedly felt the same way about the old bastard. “Did you?”
“I’m sorry, man,” Stan managed to get out.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re sorry?” I put my hands on my hips and turned back around to face my uncle. “Enlighten me, Stan, how this all came about. Why is this fucking piece of shit standing on my property? Tell me. Now. I’m not messing around, Stan. I’m really pissed. Just seeing his face makes me want to smash something.”
Stan sighed. His eyes moved to some of the other men observing what was going on. He was embarrassed, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass. Just the idea of Uncle Dusty knowing where I lived made me want to throttle my own cousin, my own flesh and blood. I was really holding back here. And how much had he told him? Did he know who I was now?
“He had some trouble back in Lazerne lately,” Stan started to explain.
I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. So?”
“He didn’t have anywhere to go. I let him stay with me back in Lazerne.”
“You what?”
Stan nodded. “He was going to be out on the streets. I just left to come out here. He called me not knowing where I was, so I just…sort of told him.”
I was absolutely sure my cousin could read the look on my face and just knew that I was struggling not to attack him physically. I grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him toward me. I got nose to nose with him.
“Nicky, he’s my father,” Stan hissed out.
“You did not just say that to me,” I growled, spinning him around and giving him a push toward the house. “Go. I’ll be in after I take care of this piece of shit father of yours.”
“Nicky…” Stan trailed off, looking back only once as he sulked toward the mansion.
I rested both hands on the back of my neck for a moment. I couldn’t even look up at Dusty yet. I felt everything that had been stirring inside of me coming to a head. My uncle was about to become a victim of my internal torments. I needed to take it out on someone, and this was the perfect opportunity.
“Leave,” I commanded everyone without looking up. “Everyone go. Now.” The sharpness of my tone was almost unrecognizable even to myself. I stood there stewing for a few more moments as I heard the sounds of vehicle engines starting and everyone doing exactly what I said. My eyes continued to stare down at the ground. By the time I did look up, there was only one person standing before me, Uncle Dusty. He looked awkward, as if he didn’t know quite what to do. Good. That’s how I wanted him to feel. He saw the look on my face, then glanced around the property as if trying to avoid what was about to happen. Then he finally met my stare again as he gave an equally awkward laugh.
“Nicky, boy, please let me explain,” he stammered.
“Save your breath, old man,” I told him. “I don’t know what Stan told you.”
“All he said was that he was in Haven…with you…”
I held up my hand motioning for him to stop. “Shut up. I told you to save your breath.”
My uncle gave out a small sigh of frustration.
“You are nothing to me. You caused my mother so much grief and pain. You abandoned your own child. Those are things I can never forget.”
“I…”
I held up my hand again, my temper still urging me to put a bullet in the bastard’s head right here, right now, and save the world another day with him breathing on the planet. He closed his mouth again. He looked even more aged than the last time I’d seen him, at my mother’s funeral. His hair was disheveled and badly in need of a cut, and it hung to the bottom of his ea
r lobes. The wrinkles on his face were more defined. But those eyes—those were the same hard, cold gray eyes that I remembered as a child. He hadn’t batted an eye when he left my mother crying for money he owed her, leaving us practically starving to death one time. He didn’t bat an eye when his own son cried out to him as he turned and walked out the door without a care. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of forgiveness now just because he was almost undoubtedly suffering from being a broke, lazy fucker.
“You don’t get to come in here and try and take advantage of what I have. You don’t get to try to mooch off of what Stan has either. What Stan has, I gave him. I get to decide what everyone does and doesn’t have, and you, Dusty, you get nothing. Nothing. It’s taking every fiber of my being right now just to let you walk out of here without breaking both your legs. I would love to see you writhe in agony. You have no idea how happy that would make me, but that’s the only mercy you’ll see me give you at this time. You will turn and go back to Lazerne in the same way you got here. You won’t ever step foot on my property again. You won’t ever try to contact either me or Stan again. You forget you even have a son. Didn’t take much for you to forget him when he was a boy. Forget him now. You don’t have a son. He doesn’t have a father. And if I ever see your pathetic fucking face again, have no doubt that I will break both of your arms and both of your legs and leave you for dead.” The side of my cheek twitched. “In other words, in terms you maybe can understand, you’re not fucking welcome here, so don’t come back again.”
Uncle Dusty’s bottom lip trembled for just a second before he realized he was cowering to his own nephew. Then, just like that, a light switch flipped, and his hesitation became that same kind of fierceness I remembered as a boy when he’d blamed my mother for everything wrong that had happened in his life, when he’d scream and rant about nothing at all and eventually get his own way. My mother gave him the money he didn’t deserve and then took in Stan for him, too.
“You’ve really changed, Nicky,” he said after a few moments of silent processing.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not my mother, you mean? I’m not giving in to your bullshit? I don’t care about your current situation in life? Honestly, that’s been my position my entire life, so really nothing’s changed at all. You’ve never done a fucking thing for me. I owe you nothing.”
“But Stan…”
“Is none of your fucking concern, old man. He belongs to me now.”
Uncle Dusty’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned to go away. Then he spun around slowly and faced me again. “Nicky, I loved my sister. I want you to know that.”
“Everything that spews from your mouth is bullshit. Go away.”
I made sure he walked down the street to his piece of shit junky ass car and got in. I waited until he pulled away before going back to the mansion where now I had to deal with my idiot cousin.
Stan was sitting on one of the leather couches, a red-haired groupie stroking his head like he was a puppy dog, his head leaning against her chest.
“Get the fuck out of here.” As I glared at her, her eyes grew wide and she scurried out of the doors without saying a word. These skanks were creeping around here all the time now even when the speakers weren’t blaring. “Stand up and face me, Stan,” I insisted.
He stood then, but his eyes weren’t meeting mine.
“You know letting him come here is bullshit. It’s an embarrassment to me. I brought you in here, and you bring him in here.”
“I just felt bad for him. I thought maybe we could have a relationship after all these years. When your mom died…just had me thinking is all. Life’s too short,” Stan blurted out.
“My mother and your…father…I don’t even know how they can be related. They’re two completely different people. If you want me to spell out the difference for you, I will. My mother was there for me. Always. And Dusty wasn’t. It’s that cut and dry. He’s never going to change. He’s taking advantage of your fucking emotions. Grow a pair, Stan. This kind of shit I won’t put up with. You’re only getting away with it this one time because you’re my blood. You’re like a brother to me. That’s the only reason why I haven’t completely lost my cool with you, because believe me, I’m on the verge. It’s taking all I have right now to talk this calmly to you.”
“I didn’t tell him about the group,” he told me, the toe of his tennis shoe attempting to dig into the floor like he was some little kid who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar. “I just told him where I was, that I was with you, that I was staying. He asked if it was good here, and I told him real good. Guess he thought he could have a taste.”
I exhaled loudly. “No one comes here without my permission. Do you understand that? I’m already on the chopping block without having a snake like your old man lurking about. I’m serious, too. He better not come back. You’d better just keep your mouth shut in the future about anything and everything.”
Stan nodded. “I know, Nicky. Sorry.”
“Guess who’s going to have to take care of Dusty next time if he shows up again?” I watched him look up at me then, our eyes meeting. “You, Stan. I’ll make you kill your own father. So make sure it’s taken care of. Got it?” I knew I was being hard on him, but I had to be. These were the kind of mistakes that could cost me my life.
“Yeah.”
“And another thing,” I continued. “Why were you so rude to Lilah?”
“Listen, man, I’m sorry about that, too.”
“Why can’t you just act right? I brought you here thinking you’d be a fucking adult.”
Pausing to think for a moment, Stan crossed his arms. “I was giving her a hard time, yeah, but with good reason.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“There was this guy…”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Just when I thought my blood pressure couldn’t get any higher, he had to mention a guy and Lilah in the same sentence.
It seemed as if Stan was assessing my temper before he continued as he stared at me for a moment longer. “They were acting a little too friendly if you ask me. It happened two times when I was following her.”
“Wait.” I put my hand up, motioning for him to stop. “Start from the beginning. Who is this guy?”
Stan shrugged. “Somebody who walked into her clothing store. He seemed more interested in Lilah though than the clothes.”
What the fuck?
“Did he touch her?”
“What?”
“Did he put his fucking hands on her?” I asked.
Stan shook his head. “I broke it up, man. She was pissed at me for it, too. Then they saw each other along the street the second time and went into a coffee shop together.”
“What do you mean by together? Did they meet there or was it just in passing?”
Again Stan shrugged. It further added to my already growing irritation.
“It was crowded in there. I followed them in. They just stood in line together, talked, shit like that.”
“A name, Stan. I need a name.”
“I told you I don’t know, man.”
I let out a growl of frustration. “That’s not good enough!”
“That’s why she doesn’t want me around,” he continued. “I mess up all her plans.”
This didn’t sound like the Lilah I knew. Then again, exactly what did I know about her? I had taken her in after her husband had treated her like shit. We slept in the same bed every night, but was the woman I imagined her to be not really who she was at all? Could I have been so stupid to be sleeping next to a stranger this entire time?
“Fucking headache.” I dug my fingers into the sides of my temples. This day was already turning into a nightmare and it was only mid-afternoon. I wasn’t about to go all sappy and weird in front of my cousin over a woman. He didn’t even know what he was talking about anyway. He didn’t even know the guy’s name for Christ’s sake. I didn’t want to look at his face anymore. I didn’t want to see anyon
e. I turned around and headed for the doors that led to the upper level of the house.
Once inside the elevator, I pressed my forehead against the smooth, cool wall and gave in to my emotions for a moment. Seeing Uncle Dusty here in Haven had been an ugly kind of surreal. Maybe involving family at all was a huge mistake. Maybe Stan wasn’t one to be trusted with this kind of stuff. But now he was already knee deep into this shit. What was I going to do now?
Then there was Lilah and this guy Stan had mentioned. Why was it killing me to know who he was?
As the elevator door opened, I heard giggling and voices. Lilah was leaning back on the couch with her feet propped up, a champagne glass in her hand. Her best friend, Shayna, was opposite her on a loveseat. She, too, was sipping on champagne.
Ah, the good life. Lilah was now a high profile owner of an expensive clothing boutique. She was in the process of becoming a clothing designer herself. She lived in a mansion, had access to whatever amount of money her heart desired to do whatever she desired. That was all because of me.
I didn’t like the sudden bitterness I now tasted in my mouth as I looked at her with that glorious smile plastered on her face as she chatted with her friend.
“Everything okay?” Lilah asked, as if immediately recognizing that everything in my world had been rocked within the last few minutes.
“Fine,” I casually replied, strolling over to the bar to pour myself a drink. “Hey, Shayna.”
“Nicky,” Shayna said, giving me a smile.
“Don’t mind me,” I told them, settling down in a chair across the room. “I’m gonna sit over here and unwind.”
Lilah’s eyes lingered on me for a while before she returned to whatever it was that she and Shayna were busy babbling about.
I took a sip of the whiskey on the rocks and enjoyed the burn going the entire way down to my stomach. I placed the glass on the small table beside me and reached in my pocket for a cigarette. Lighting one up, I placed it in between my lips and leaned back against the headrest. I let my eyes open slightly as I watched Lilah from a distance. It was impossible to relax right now. I was too amped up. My emotions were running all over the place, making me feel all crazy inside.
