by V. L. Brock
My jaw slacked as I studied the bank statement closely with wide-eyes. “Liam,” I flicked through to the second page, the third page, the fourth page, fifth and sixth page. “Six months?”
“It’s been longer than that, Kady, but I shred the others. Nearly $25,000 I have loaned your dad, their mortgage was slipping, like I said, the business is really struggling. But Kady, baby,”––I pulled my focus from the documents, and met Liam’s caring, considerate gaze. “My dad was a gambler; I know how serious it can get. It’s not something that we particularly want for our future. That’s why I told him he has to clean his act up.”
Now this is making sense…okay, a little sense. “Thank you for helping them, Liam. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
He smiled his arrogant smile, and pulled me into his arms, holding me against the warmth of his broad chest. “You don’t need to repay me, baby. Don’t think of them not getting into contact because they don’t care about you, Kady, baby. Think of it as, they know that I will take care of you, and they have nothing to worry about except getting themselves and their marriage on the straight and narrow, yeah?”
Snuggled against his body, I welcomed his heat and fresh scent. I nodded. “What about, Brittany?”
“Brittany’s snowed under with all of her exams, baby. We want her to get a good job don’t we? Even with her pink hair.”
Pink hair, I mean, really? What on earth possessed her to go with pink?
At 5:35 p.m., Liam folded himself into a cab, and left for Logan International to fly to Tokyo for his business meeting with Yoshimotto.
I had held my tongue for what seemed like time without end. Liam’s disclosure revolved continually over and over, and my head began to thump, and my stomach began to churn and knot. How could my dad do such a thing? He knew how my mom felt about gambling. The money he was putting down for all those little betting slips, or decks of cards, wasn’t just money. Each time Marcus Jenson was staking on something, he was turning his back, and risking what he had with his family.
$25,000 of Liam’s hard earned money had been a life raft for them. Mom and Dad may not have felt any shame in accepting money off my boyfriend to keep them afloat and Jenson Golf Resort and Spa from going under, but I sure as Hell wasn’t going to put up with it.
I waved Liam off before quickly retreated back inside, with a world of fury and discredit for my father, festering in the pits of my stomach.
Making a beeline to the kitchen, I reached for the cordless phone while pouring a fresh cup of coffee.
“Hello,” Mom’s softly spoken, two octave voice sounded down the earpiece.
“Don’t give me the softly spoken BS, mother––” I hissed.
“Kady?”
“Oh, so you do remember me then?” I wasn’t going to attempt to extract the sardonic tone from my voice, I was beyond furious. “That’s funny, because family seems to mean shit for you people.”
“Excuse me?” she gasped, and although I couldn’t physically see her, I knew she was frowning, and her hand probably found its way to her throat.
“The fucking audacity. I was in the hospital, in a fucking coma for four days––”
“Four––hold on a moment, Kady.”
When I heard her press a button, everything on the opposite end followed in an echo. “Have you just put me on speaker?” Before anyone had a chance to answer, I charged on. “Good, you can all listen to me for once. Your eldest daughter was in a coma for four days, in the hospital for six after pulling through. You visited me once, caused an argument and got me in a state, and you didn’t come back. I’ve been home now for almost two weeks and not as much as a fucking phone call––” I slammed my hand down hard on the surface of the island, making the onyx liquid in my mug ripple.
“Kady,” Dad boomed down the speaker.
How dare he try and interrupt me! “No, don’t you dare start, I’m far from finished. Remember all those pep-talks when I was a kid, ‘don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t gamble’, you got a fucking cheek, Dad. Taking money off Liam to help make sure the business stays afloat, while you squander your money. You make me sick.”
I heard Dad snigger down the speaker, which only riled me even more. Eventually, after he pleaded, I let them speak.
“Kady, we had no idea you were in that coma for four days, had we have known, we would have been there sooner. The first thing we knew was ten hours before we got out to you. We did come back the following day, we stayed in Boston for a week, every day we came to visit, but no one would let us in to see you, because somehow Liam was down as your next of kin, and he gave strict orders for you not to be disturbed.”
My face fell. I staggered backward, thankful for the many barstools that surrounded the island. No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be right. “What?”
“We tried to call your cell, Kady, but the line said it was out of service, and we don’t know the phone number for your house. We would fly out to see you, but we don’t know exactly where you live. And as for the business and Liam lending me money, chickpea, I’m sorry to disappoint, but Jenson Golf Resort and Spa are in a five-figure profit. I have never gambled. It’s more than my life is worth; you know what your mom thinks of it.”
The ground liquefied under the legs of my stool and I was sinking into the mush once again. “But…I–I saw the bank statements, $25,000 in six months had been…”
“Chickpea, it hasn’t been going to us. I swear down as true as I am standing next to this phone, with your mother in tears under my arm.”
“But, why? Why would Liam lie about this? What about, Brittany?”
“She’s swamped with her exams. She’s got another five spreading over this week and next week.”
Well, at least that was one truth, in a swap full of dishonesty.
They asked where Liam was, and in a daze, I informed them of his business meeting in Tokyo. Safe to say they were livid, and even offered to come and stay with me while he was gone. I politely declined, knowing that Liv would help put things into perspective; if there was one thing she was good at, it was figuring out a man, and at least with her, I could try and have fun while doing it.
Leaving the house past dark to go to the liquor store, in Bricksdale, a town that I don’t know in the light of day seemed like an amazing idea at the time. I was juggling two grocery bags when a beefy motherfucker stopped me in the parking lot.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he purred. I hung my head in silence and began to round him, when he blocked my progression with an intimidating sidestep. “No need to be rude, lady. Hand over your purse.”
Seized by fear, I froze on the spot, practically quaking in my boots. “Excuse me?” my voice betrayed my panic with its low, shaky tone.
“I said”––he drew his hand from his pocket in haste, his fingers lightly grasping a handle of some sort. A sharp metal blade glimmered under the streetlamp as he menacingly flicked his wrist, causing the steel to reveal itself. “Give me your fucking purse,” he demanded. Taking two steps forward, he knocked one of the bags from my arm, sending my goods scattering as it tumbled to the floor. I took a cautious step away as he stepped over my purchases which lay in disarray.
Hefty footsteps resonated in the darkness as someone came running across the lot. They got louder and louder the closer he came. Oh, fuck, now there were two. I’m fucked, I’m so fucked. I squatted down low, clutching my purse and hugging my knees into my chest, when the beefy guy was unexpectedly twisted around and punched in the face.
I wobbled and landed heavily on my ass as the man masked by the darkness folded my attacker over and kneed him in the face, spawning a wounded groan. “You think you’re fucking tough picking on a woman?” I knew that voice, that sexy, pleasant lilt which was now cloaked by hostility. He laid another punch; the man stumbled back again, fell to the floor and curled up into a ball as my Irish victor booted him swiftly in the gut. “Try taking on someone your own fucking size, you prick.”
The injured man gr
oaned, writhing in pain on the cold flooring in the parking lot of Bernie’s Liquor, while Walker swiftly stepped over the flaccid body.
All I wanted to do was run into his arms and thank him until I was blue in the face. But I refrained, and concentrated solely on pushing myself up from my ass. “Don’t tell me you have vigilante added to your résumé, too.” I grinned.
Walker crouched down to help stuff some of my snacks that were scattered, back into the grocery bag. “Irish vigilante…that has to be a first.” We peeked up in unison. God he had a great smile with an adorable dimple on his left cheek, and his eyes were glimmering. Stuffing my packet of Rusty’s in the bag, his smile vanished. “What are you doing here, Kady?”
I bit my lip and released an ungainly sighed as I pushed myself up straight. I shook my head, not wanting to dredge my shit up in public.
“Come on,” he cocked his head, gesturing in the direction of the house, and that dimple teased me with another appearance on his left cheek. “Let me walk you home.”
Walker was the kind of man that never failed to surprise me. He looked all rugged with his sexy, messy hair, his leather jacket, jeans and boots, yet he was being a gentleman and carrying my bags. I typically wouldn’t have expected that level of decency from anyone who looked like him. Again, a flaw in the human race: judging a book by its cover.
We strolled down the tree-lined street; the late night breeze tore through my hair as I hooked stray tendrils behind my ear. “I don’t know why I froze,”––I shook my head faintly––“I wouldn’t have usually. Thank you for helping though, Walker. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“’Aye, that’s alright, Kady. I make it a duty to save at least one damsel in distress every so often.” I couldn’t stifle my giggle. Usually, I would have been embarrassed about feeling that vulnerable, but he made me laugh at it, he made it seem not as serious as it was. He took my mind away from it. I admired him for that.
“So, you still haven’t told me, why were you out after dark stocking up on your liquor?”
I peeked up at the Irishman who was leisurely walking beside me, his gruff really set off his features. “I’m trying to forget.”
“Forget?” he piped. “We’re trying to hotwire those memories, Kady, not forget them.”
“Certain revelations are too painful to face, Walker. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“’Aye, come on now, darlin’,” he bumped our shoulders playfully. “I’m more empathetic than what I look. Just don’t tell that boyfriend of yours,” he spoke with an arched brow.
We giggled, chatted, and joked the entire way home. I was so enthralled by his accent that we ended up passing the house, and having to backtrack down half the block. As we passed the chocolate building next-door, I spotted Mrs. Steinbeck peeking through her drapes. Some people really are nosey.
“So, here we are,” he muttered, handing me my bags. “I bid you goodnight, Kady.” He nodded his head and gave a small chivalrous bow. The way my name fell from his lips, those perfect, molded, pale lips, had me trembling once more.
Clasping his hands together, he was turning on his heel when I called him back. His lips curled and even in the darkness, I could see how bright his eyes were. “Do you want to come in for a coffee?”
Hands resting loosely in his pockets; he hung his head and sniggered before lifting his focus to my bags. “You have three bottles of wine in that bag alone, Kady, and you’re offering me coffee?”
“I actually thought you would have preferred beer,” I winced, shrugging my shoulders feebly with a nervous chuckle.
He stalked toward me, slowly gracing the steps one at a time, until we stood virtually toe-to-toe. Towering over me, my breathing caught. “I’m Irish, darlin’, I’ll drink anything.”
“Take your boots off, I don’t want any dirt trailed through,” I groaned as I walked through the door. Slipping my heels off by the staircase, I heard him chuckle––a deep, rasping chuckle which caused me to glimpse over my shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
He flailed his head. I stared deeply into the Indian Ocean which was glimmering with wry amusement. “Never mind.”
Walker trailed behind me as I paced through the living room, into the dining-room and kitchen. I stood at the white and oak kitchen island, sifting through the bags while he removed his leather jacket. “So we have, white, red and rosé,” I told him, withdrawing each bottle in turn. I risked a glance as he made his way over to the kitchen. He was wearing a tight white T-Shirt, with a red and black plaid shirt undone. I couldn’t help but notice and secretly salivate over the way his T-shirt dipped and stretched over his torso as he sauntered toward me with purposeful strides. It took three consecutive swallows to rid my throat of that lump of desire which was choking me. “Which one should we open first?”
He held up his index finger and skirted the corner of the island, whipping one of the tea towels from the surface as he did so. His heat and his breath on my back and neck manipulated inner chills and inescapable tingles as he stood behind me. “What are you doing, Walker?”
“Helping you make up your mind.” I felt his exhale on the curve of my ear before he slipped the folded cloth over my eyes, tying it at the back of my head. I shuddered as my sexually unsatisfied body spawned addictive pulls and spasms of my muscles in my pelvis and lower back at his proximity. Strong hands were set on my shoulders. As I was only wearing a vest, I felt the roughness of his calloused, workman hands on my flesh, and my chest tightened and heaved as I strived once again, to rein in the lustful demon that Walker along with his sexy-as-fuck brogue roused in me.
“Walker,” his name was a husky intonation as it drifted along a sexually charge groan. I so hoped that the acting classes I took in high school would cover that embarrassing notion.
“Shush…you ready, Kady?” God the temptation in his voice…
Before an answer even left me, he was counting to ten and spinning me around. I had no idea which way was up or down, left or right. Even though my head felt like it was going to explode, and my lunch was crawling up my throat, I couldn’t deny the enjoyment I was experiencing with him. He finally stopped spinning me after ten.
“Which one, right, left or center?”
I craned my neck, hoping that even with the blindfold in place, and the world spinning mercilessly, I was staring at him. “And you had to spin my around to ask that question? Wouldn’t it have been easier to spin the bottles around instead of me?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s done. Just pick one, darlin’, I’m dying of thirst here.”
With my hands on my hips, I breathed in deeply, taking in his scent…his manly, addictive scent which was just as sexy as the lilt in his voice. My body shuddered. “Center.”
We were halfway through draining the bottle of white. It had been a while since I felt that level of comfort and ease with someone. I hadn’t truly felt it with Liv that night Liam came back from poker with the objective of starting World War Three. And it’s safe to say, I definitely hadn’t been feeling it around Liam himself.
Why had he lied about my parents? What else has he been lying to me about? Why was he so irritable? And why the fuck was he uninterested in being sexually intimate with me? I sniggered inwardly, even if he was interested in being sexually intimate with me, would I want that from him after the things which had transpired?
“So, how’s you and Liam doin’ now?”
Heaving a sigh, I lifted my brow and shook my head. The mere mentioning of his name had me feeling drained. “I think it’s going to take a lot longer than what any of us thought to shed light on that one. I don’t particularly want to even think about it tonight.”
“Then we shall forget,” he raised his glass, and I followed suit.
Lowering the glass from my lips, I set it on the glass surface of the dining table and swirled my fingers over the rim casually. “What does, Anili mean?”
He cocked his head and crumpled his brow. “Anili?”
“Yeah, the um…the night you came here and I couldn’t get the shower working. Liam said something about me not grasping how it works, and you mumbled something that sounded like, ‘anili’. I was wondering if it was Irish for idiot.”
The creases in his brow loosened, his eyes widened and mouth curved. “God no, you’re no idiot, Kady. And it’s okay, don’t worry about it, it doesn’t mean anything,” he purred, although, I could still sense that nothing, was indeed something.
Two bottles in to project, ‘Forget the Recent Revelation’, and Walker began to sway. “Are you drunk?” I jeered.
“Am I drunk? No, darlin’, but you’re surely halfway to that destination.”
Feeling ballsy, I rested my hand atop of his. His body stiffened. He froze mid-exhale as his gaze dropped from my eyes, to my hand. I felt his fingers stirring beneath me. “You are drunk; don’t lie to me, Walker. You’re swaying.”
At that moment, I was thankful I was wearing a bra, because I could have poked his fucking eyes out with how hard my nipples had got just by the way his eyes caressed and stroked the length of my body.
“No, darlin’,” I took advantage of breathing in his rugged scent as he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who’s swaying.”
“Nope,” I flailed my head, my ponytail whipping me in the face. “I’m perfectly fine, but I’m hungry. Are you hungry? I think we have stuff here.” I peeked over my left shoulder to the refrigerator. “With the two of us, I’m sure we could knock something up.”
“I have to say, Kady, I’m lovin’ your choice of words tonight.” He pushed himself from the seat as I staggered into the kitchen.
“What do you fancy?” I slurred then giggled at my unintended double-entendre. He was silent. I slowly craned my head around the large refrigerator door to make sure he hadn’t passed out. He was staring at me, a stare that spoke copious amounts of words, yet none that I was in the right mind to read. His dark eyelashes swept down to meet the arch of his cheek as he blinked.
