Phoebe: Book One of Broken Girls Series

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “Yeah, I do, honey.”

  At the hard, fierce look on her face, I dragged my eyes from Carmen to another shot glass that somehow, without my prior knowledge or acceptance, sat next to my water tumbler.

  Since I knew neither Abe nor my girls would ever let anything happen to me, I figured that shot was the best way to push my past with the man and whatever his grand plan of revenge held, back and away from me.

  So I threw the tequila back before joining my friends on the dance floor in order to not only shake my booty, but to dance my cares away.

  *.*.*.*.*

  4 Sheets to the Wind wasn’t the kind of bar Ryker wanted to be in at any time, unless they had two-fer drinks. Or unless he’d been dragged there by Max, who offered to pay after work as a sign of truce after Ryker’s diatribe, after scoring his line in the sand with his brothers, by saying Rio would be there.

  Rio the man of legend.

  The one in Max’s military unit who had, single-handedly, saved Max’s life not once but on two occasions.

  And in meeting the dude, Ryker could well believe it. A towering man of muscle, he could imagine Rio saving an entire fucking village armed with nothing more than a toothpick. Topping him by four inches and carrying another thirty pounds of pure muscle, the guy was an entity unto himself.

  The only exception to all the badassery of the man, to the point of directly almost cancelling it out was in the little small dog (a Shih Tzu, if Ryker wasn’t mistaken) sporting a pink leather collar emblazoned with sparkles that Rio held to his massive chest. Neither the bouncer nor bartender challenged the huge man who brought an animal into the bar even though having it there probably violated about twenty or more health codes.

  And the fact he called the ankle-biter, ‘Pookie’?

  Please.

  Then there was the fact Ryker found him boring, as Rio and Max talked together, swapping inside jokes about their ‘glory years’ that didn’t sound all that glorious to a guy who’d witnessed the last of his youth from behind bars. Scary, yeah. But not as fearsome as being attacked in the middle of the night by other teens determined to shove their cocks up his ass or down his throat.

  He turned the former military men’s conversation out, his mind going to Phoebe as it was wont to do whenever his brain had a spare moment.

  What was she doing in her rare night out with her friends?

  She’d texted her night’s revelry would happen at the Surly Snowman, a bar he knew and approved of. Was she having fun, fueled by the heavy-handed drinks he knew the owners saved just for their female clientele?

  “You’re up,” some guy shouted from the nearest pool table where Max had stacked a few bills, weighted by a couple of quarters. Waving Rio off, Ryker chose not to play the green felt, while keeping an eye on his phone instead, wishing Phoebe would text the status of her evening.

  Jesús Cristo, but he had it bad. And he waited, idly watching the men play as he waited for an update of what was going on with her. He tried to be patient as each second dragged into minutes. As the minutes became more than an hour.

  His brother and Rio played, talking trash over the long pool table as they each sunk their balls into the different pockets. Frankly, the two towering masses of maleness were equally matched, despite Pookie’s sharp bark of approval with every controlled shot Rio successfully made.

  As they argued over the next round, citing the exact placement of stripes and solids in the mix of the wooden triangle, Ryker was done. Done with it all.

  He just needed his woman.

  Just Phoebe.

  And barring that, he simply needed the sound of her sweet voice.

  In order to ascertain she was okay.

  Happy.

  Having fun with her girls.

  Since the pool room at the bar didn’t have speakers in them (a blessing in Ryker’s opinion because whoever selected the mix for 4 Sheets choice in music didn’t a fucking clue about what was popular), he moved to the farthest, quietest corner the space afforded.

  He just had to call her, touch base to make sure everything was copasetic.

  “Dude, you’re supposed to watching my dog,” Rio shouted even as Ryker went to his list of contacts, punching Phoebe’s name as soon as it came up while shooting Max’s comrade the middle finger.

  Rio may’ve been Max’s oldest, dearest friend and best bud, but when it came to Phoebe no other person on the planet stood a chance.

  Not with Ryker anyway.

  He let the phone ring twice, three times before he disconnected, knowing by the fourth ring it would go to voicemail. Ryker didn’t wanna talk to Phoebe’s fucking voicemail.

  He waited, the clack of balls resounding behind him as Max and Rio worked the table. Just another couple of minutes and she might pick up.

  And his heart ached for her to pick up the call.

  Two calls, both without results found him dialing a third time.

  “Hey Rykah,” she yelled into the phone, trying to be overheard in the loud music of the Surly’s background. “So’s how you doing?”

  Fuck, fuck, freaking fuck!

  She sounded drunk.

  Okay.

  Happy as hell.

  But drunk off her ass.

  “Are you all right, babe?” Dios! Was that his voice he heard sounding so authoritative as he barked out his question to his girl?

  “Nevah bettah,” she slurred along the line of their connection. “Drinkin’ an’, you know, like, dancin’…”

  He didn’t have words for all the shit roiling inside him, imagining his girl out on the town, completely blotto when he was so far away and unable to protect her. And just who the fuck was she dancing with, anyway?

  “Who’s your ride, Pheebs?” he shouted into his late-model phone, not realizing he held it in a two fisted grip until his fingers cramped.

  “Erm…dunno. Ah’m thinkin’ Vonnie,” she slurred. “But it might bay…I mean, be, the Tons.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen, okay.” Shit! Could he even reach the Surly in that amount of time, given that Max drove the two blocks from BI to 4 Sheets? “Don’t leave until I get there!”

  “You’re comin’?” Her voice held a croon, one his dick recognized and immediately reacted to. “You gonna take me home?”

  “Believe it, cariña,” he uttered fervently as he snapped his fingers to the two men at the table in order to get their attention. Both Max and Rio shot their eyes to him and put down their cues. “Hold on for fifteen, all right?”

  “But thas laike thray songs, Raykah…” she moaned, her amazing voice sizzling along their connection, turning his dick into a throbbing piece of stone.

  “Just hold tight, I’ll be there,” he implored, realizing he’d never fucking implored anyone in his life. “Don’t leave, Phoebe. Just don’t fucking leave the bar, okay?”

  Without waiting for her response, Ryker disconnected by flipping his phone shut. When he turned and glanced at Max and Rio, he was grateful they were already on board with his plan as evidenced by their pool cues on the table, Rio scooping up his yap-dog and Max holding his keys in his hand.

  “We’re going to the Surly,” Ryker announced, his boots thudding against the floor as he picked up speed to exit 4 Sheets, snagging the keys outta Max’s hand as he passed. “I gotta get to my girl.”

  “Wait,” Max called from somewhere behind him. “Whats the fucking rush?”

  Ryker flicked two fingers out only as an acknowledgement he’d heard his brother as he raced to 4 Sheet’s front door.

  “Don’t have a fucking clue about any of what’s going on, but I’m in.” Rio’s heavy boots sounded like thunder albeit a distant one as he trailed behind Max. “That way the two of you have back-up.”

  Seriously?

  But before Ryker could give an aside, Max had it covered. “What? You and your dangerous beast?”

  “Shut it, Holmes,” Rio growled deep in a way Ryker knew Max could never obtain. “This bitch is trained to rescue and
help the elderly.”

  Ryker slammed through the door, never noticing the chilly air of outside as he practically ran to the vehicle Max had parked in the edge of the lot. “Don’t fucking give a good goddamn if your dog can raise the dead. Just. Get. The. Fuck. In. The. Car.”

  “Is he always wound this tight?” Rio’s whisper carried in the sharp, early autumn cold of the evening, reaching Ryker’s ears.

  “Shotgun,” his older brother announced. “You and that fucking fur-ball can have the back seat.”

  Rio’s voice was lost in the rumble of the engine as Ryker started the SUV, impatiently waiting for the other two men to get inside and belt up.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Ryker held Phoebe’s arm tight as they stuttered their way across the bumpy asphalt of the Surly’s parking lot until he was finally (fucking finally) able to get his girl up onto the seat, safe in his car.

  Or Max’s ride.

  Whatever.

  It was the vehicle he had the keys for so he could take Phoebe out and away from a place where she wasn’t fully herself. That was all that mattered.

  Buckling her in, he caught the small, shy smile she gave him before he shut the door and felt like someone told him he’d won the lottery as he rounded the front of the car. But before he opened the door, he saw Max and Rio along with two women moving quickly toward him.

  “Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Max came to a standstill at the front bumper.

  “Taking Phoebe home.” Ryker thought it was pretty goddamn obvious what was going on. “Is that a problem?”

  “Hell yeah it is, if you’re planning to leave me and Rio stranded!” Max had an undeniable point.

  A feminine voice broke into the mix. “I’ve got a car and can give you guys a lift.”

  “Have you been drinking too, little girl?” Rio shifted closer to the petite redheaded with the strange streaks of green in her short hair. Ryker heard Rio was a ladies’ man and if a beautiful woman was making an offer, he very rarely refused. Ryker wasn’t surprised the hero’s appreciative smile took some of the sting out of his words.

  “Yeah, I have. But I handle my liquor better than Phoebe,” the woman shot back, her chin lifted in challenge. “She’s a lightweight.”

  “Even so, you aren’t driving either.” Rio made his proclamation and held out his hand. “Give me your keys so Max and I can see you and your friend home. We’ll grab a cab from your place.”

  “The hell I will!” She pulled back, her hand reaching for the arm of the pretty brunette with hair down to her waist who was standing on her other side. “Listen, Mister Whoever-You-Are…”

  “Rio,” the large man purred, clearly finding her fit of temper appealing. “The name is Rio. What’s yours?”

  The redhead set her jaw and glared, her lips firmly closed in pique.

  “I’m Beta and she’s Vonnie,” the brunette, whose beautiful hair was more of a cinnamon brown, replied, her eyes darting from person to person. “It’s short for Veronica.”

  “If I wanted him to know my name, I would’ve told him!”

  “But you offered him a ride—”

  “And he demanded I give him my keys! What kind of guy pulls that shit when someone tries to be a Good Samaritan, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Vonnie turned back to Rio. “If you can grab a cab from my place, then you can call one from here. As for me and my friend, we’re gone.”

  Ryker figured Vonnie gave him his cue to leave, swinging up into the seat next to a giggling Phoebe and started the car, gaining Max’s scowl and Rio’s deep laugh.

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t until we were in my apartment behind closed doors that I saw Ryker’s reaction to my dress and heeled boots. And that reaction even in my drunken state was good, as in fan-freaking-tastic.

  As evidenced by how fast he moved our bodies together and kissed me long, wet and deep. But he must’ve caught my stumble or my sway or some other thing that exposed my inebriation because he quickly pushed me into my bathroom and opened the medicine chest.

  “What are you looking for, honey?” I blurted out on a mild hiccup.

  “Your aspirin or ibuprophen,” he muttered his eyes scanning each shelf.

  “I keep those in one of the (hic) kitchen cabinets,” I advised as I attempted to turn on a heel. A failed attempt he saw out of the corner of his eye, preventing me from tripping into the doorframe by looping an arm around my waist.

  “Jesús, baby. How much have you had to drink?”

  I couldn’t answer because I didn’t actually know. I’d started with the ‘Hey Juice’ and a couple of shots of tequila but I remembered a lot more glasses being pressed into my hand, both of the tall and shot-glass kind. I’d also guzzled more than my fair share of water in between, which I figured was the only good thing I’d done to prevent me from doing a face-plant on Surly’s dance floor.

  Keeping his arm around my waist, Ryker took us back down the hall and made a sharp right into my kitchen. He stopped and glanced around before finally asking me, “Where are they?”

  I pointed to the right cabinet on a giggle and he wrangled me that direction, spilling a couple of tablets out into my waiting palm. Propping me against the counter, he swiftly went to the fridge and snagged a bottle of water.

  “Take ‘em, Phoebe,” he demanded, his beautiful eyes overshadowed by the furl of his eyebrows.

  “But I’m not in pain.”

  He rolled his eyes and grabbing my wrist, lifted the hand holding the pain relieving pills. “You will be. So take them now to avoid the worst of your hangover before you wake up.”

  I blinked up at him. “That’s brilliant, Ryker. Did you think of that all on your own?”

  To my way of thinking, my man was a damn genius.

  “Just shut up and swallow the pills, cariña, okay?”

  I nodded and did what he asked but I held his eyes the whole time thinking about how lucky I was to have him in my life. A fact, I felt I had to share. The way it came out of my mouth though was a little bit louder and a lot more slurred than I intended. “You’re da besh boyfriend a girl could evah have!”

  “Sure I am, Phoebe,” he muttered with another eye roll. “Now let’s get you to bed.”

  Oh goody, Ryker wanted to go to bed and being with Ryker in bed was always wonderful! Something I let him know with the dazzling smile I sent him over my shoulder as he again held my waist while maneuvering me into the bedroom. It was just unfortunate I couldn’t smile at him and walk at the same time without tripping.

  “Easy now, baby,” he warned as he sat me on the edge of my bed.

  “Can you turn out some of the lights, please?” Was that my voice, the one that sounded so plaintive and beseeching?

  He turned out the overhead and then moved to each side of my bed to shut off the bedside ones. “Right. Now. Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

  I leaned back on straight arms, my palms flat on the mattress and felt my lips tip up into another smile, this one of the sexy variety. “Okey-doke. But can you use your teeth on the zippers?”

  He stopped mid-movement and stared at me with mouth agape before I saw his eyes slide down my dress, caressing my curves until they stuck on my short boots. He swallowed and dragged his eyes back up to my face. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do,” I proclaimed, losing purchase on my comforter and falling down onto my back with a giggle. “And…” I continued with another hiccupping giggle. “Can you do it really slow?”

  I thought I heard him mutter, “Fucking hell,” but I could’ve heard wrong. And as my wandering eyes tried to focus on him, I found him leaning over me with a hand planted on either side of my waist. He was wearing a fierce look although I didn’t have a clue why.

  “What are your thoughts regarding drunk sex?” he asked and I thought it was an interesting question, so interesting I had to think on it for a while. Long enough for him to lean into me, tucking his face into my neck and begin licking t
he oh-so sensitive skin there.

  But he didn’t seem content with just that area and moved down to kiss and nuzzle the top part of my breasts not hidden by my dress. I felt a tugging at the neckline and lifted my head to see what was causing it.

  Ryker had the overly-large tab of the zipper between his teeth and was staring up at me with a look of pure sin, causing me to press my thighs together. “Ith thith wha’ you want?”

  God.

  Yeah!

  I nodded enthusiastically and let my head drop back down as he exposed my skin inch by inch, creating wonderful shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Making it all the way down to where the zipper ended, he leaned on a hand and spread the knit of the fabric apart.

  “Shit, babe. Leave it to you to wear a black lace bra with this dress.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him it matched the outfit and came as a set that included a lace thong as well, but I didn’t get the words out before he used his tongue to swirl around my belly-button. And it felt so good, his mouth on my stomach, I couldn’t speak.

  Ryker shifted upward and was soon tonguing my nipples through the lace of my bra, an act that found me not only pressing my thighs together but moving my hips to create more friction. After lavishing attention on both of my nipples, he raised his head. “Need something, Phoebe?”

  I most certainly did and how nice of him to ask!

  “Yes, please,” I managed to mumble through the throbbing need working its way throughout my body. “You naked and on your back if you don’t mind.”

  It was his turn to chuckle as he lifted off me and began removing his clothes. I watched, barely blinking as he disrobed, allowing me to drink all the beauty of his physique. When he was done, standing naked and proud before me, I pointed to the top of the mattress. “And on your back.”

  He grinned cheekily and moved to stretch out his tall form smack-dab in the middle of my mattress. “Now what?” he asked, seemingly not concerned about his nudity, or his rock-hard-jutting-up member in the least.

  If he could be brave, then I would be too.