by KB Winters
If I went inside there was only one possible outcome. But I wasn’t about to deny it. I met his eyes and grinned. “Hell yeah, I want to come inside.”
He took a step back and let me in.
“Did I wake you?” I asked once we were seated beside each other on the couch. He’d taken a sheet from the linen closet and draped it over the couch and snagged one of the throw pillows I usually kept on the recliner. From the wrinkled look of the sheets he’d been doing a lot of his own tossing and turning.
Dylan shook his head and sipped at one of the beers he’d grabbed from the fridge once I was inside. “No. I’m still a little wired.”
“Thanks for dealing with those guys.”
“Of course.”
“Did you... I mean they didn’t look like they were in very good shape when they left.”
Dylan cringed. “You should’ve been upstairs.”
I scoffed and took a sip of my beer. “’Cause I’m some dainty princess who can’t hold her own? You know better than that.”
“I do. But still, Em. It wasn’t safe. You should’ve listened to me. You should’ve trusted me.”
I glanced up at him. “I do trust you. More than anyone.”
Dylan frowned.
“I haven’t told anyone the things I told you the other day. About Tommy and me.” I sighed. “Kate knows more than anyone, but I haven’t even told her the worst of it. The names he called me and the threats he made to keep me from taking Tommy and leaving. I guess in some stupid way I wanted to protect him. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t want anyone to talk about us. I didn’t want people to say, ‘I told you so’.”
“Why would anyone say that?”
I leaned against the beat up cushions of the couch. “Tommy was the rebound guy. Everyone knew it, even Tommy. Everyone said I was only with him so I didn’t miss you so much,” I replied.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Emma. It was never my intention.”
I nodded. “I know that.”
I leaned forward and set my beer on the coffee table. “Can we just be together tonight? No talking, no thinking, just us”
“Emma. . .”
“It’s okay, Dylan. I’m all grown up now. You don’t have to protect my feelings. I know what I’m doing.” I reached for his beer and placed it on the table beside mine. “I know what I want.”
As though triggered by my words, Dylan surged forward and kissed me hard and fast. Before I could even catch my breath from the deep kiss, he was stripping off the robe around me. I wore a long t-shirt underneath, and Dylan’s hand slid up my thigh right under the hem. A growl erupted from the back of his throat when he found my pussy wet and ready without another layer of fabric between us. As he stroked my clit with his fingers I arched back against the couch. My nipples poked through the t-shirt, and he dipped down to capture one between his lips. Impatient, he plunged a finger deep inside me.
Dylan remembered every inch of my body. Years may have passed, but it was like he’d stored a map of me somewhere in his mind, saving it for just this moment. He had me on the brink of orgasm within minutes. I panted and clung to his bare shoulders as he slid his fingers deep inside me. When he crooked his finger and caressed my g-spot with skilled precision, tingles went all through my body, practically paralyzing me. A few more strokes and a hot rush flooded out of me like a monsoon.
He stripped the t-shirt off me and threw it between my thighs to soak up some the juices that poured from me following the intense climax. I raked my fingers over his short hair and watched him move between my legs. “How are you so damn good at that?” I asked with a smile.
He looked up at me, and breathed, “’Cause I know you, baby. I know what you like.”
He watched my eyes as he moved down my body, leaving trails of kisses until he reached my pussy.
He stuck out his tongue, teasing my lips. My whole body was buzzing, and he seemed to enjoy watching me. Seeing his eyes on me only made me hotter. He slid his finger down my slit, and I damn near went over the edge again.
I dug my fingernails into the sculpted muscles of his back and tried to pull him up. “Baby, I want you. Inside me.” My words came out as a desperate plea. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
He flashed a wicked grin. “Always happy to give my lady what she wants.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dylan
By the time the sun came back around I was in the guest bed at my parents’ place. It was the right thing to do. Slip away before Emma started her day, but as I lay there, one arm over my head, staring up at the ceiling, I wished I could’ve woken up with her beside me.
The subtle scent of her clung to me and as I stirred to get up a flood of memories and leftover sensations threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to rationalize that I would’ve reacted the same way—with the same intensity—if it had been anyone. But that was bullshit, and I knew it. I’d gone too far. Let myself get way too close to the brink of permanently injuring the two thugs in the back of the diner. And I fucked the tension out of me with the only woman I’d ever loved.
Shoving it all to the back of my mind, I got up and padded to the bathroom for a shower. After a good scrubbing and a fresh change of clothes I was ready to face another day. At least as ready as I was going to be. Grief rolled in with unpredictable patterns. There’d been more than a few times I’d needed to excuse myself from the room to get some air. As a SEAL, I’d lost brothers in arms and while I once said they were just as close to me as my actual flesh and blood brother, now that Jimmy was gone, I could see that wasn’t the truth. This was different. The pain was sharper and more vicious. I had a hard time keeping a grip on it and even more so on the rage it unleashed within me.
My parents were at the breakfast table, staring blankly at their halves of the newspaper. From the looks of it, neither one of them had regained their appetite. People kept coming over—well-meaning friends and family—and they all tried to get them to eat, but the stacks of leftovers in the fridge were all the proof I needed to see it was pointless.
“Morning, Dylan,” my mom said as I entered the kitchen. She started to get up. “I can get you some waffles or maybe some French toast. That was always your favorite.”
I stopped her with a gentle hand and ushered her back into her chair. I leaned over and kissed her temple. “I got it, Ma. Looks like you’re not done with your own breakfast there.”
The coffee in the mugs wasn’t even steaming anymore. How long had they been there? My heart wrenched all over again at the thought of them sitting for hours, food untouched, paper unread, while their minds wandered aimlessly through their grief.
“What are your plans for the day, son?” my dad asked, flipping the page on his paper over to the sports section.
I went to the coffee pot and poured a cup for myself and then carried the pot to warm up my parents’ mugs. “I thought I’d stick around town, see if there’s anything I can do at the bar. Frankie’s coming in to show me the ropes.”
“Oh yeah?”
My mom perked up. “Does that mean you’re staying? Here in Brighton?”
I turned away to hide the cringe on my face. “I don’t know yet, Ma. I only asked Frankie to show me around so I can help out now that . . .” I abandoned the statement. “I need to talk to Uncle Paddy about a few things.”
“He’s out on the balcony,” my dad said with a wave of his hand.
I glanced at the back door. “Oh. Guess I’ll take this out there.”
My parents went back to the paper, and I slipped out to the backyard. Uncle Paddy was sitting on the steps of the back porch smoking a cigarette. He craned around at the squeak of the door. “Morning, my boy.”
“Morning.” I closed the door softly and then moved to sit on the steps beside him. He offered me a cigarette, but I shook my head. “No thanks.”
“How you doing?”
I shrugged. “Same I suppose. Worried about Ma and Pops. I know there’s nothing I can do to help them move t
hrough this, but damn, I wish like hell there was. I can’t stand seeing them this way.”
Paddy nodded and took a long drag. “You know, Jimmy wasn’t my boy, but you and he were always just like my own.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sighed and took a big swallow of my coffee. “I wish I could give them the answers of what happened that night. I don’t know how much it would help, but maybe it would. Closure is worth something.”
Paddy nodded in agreement but then frowned. “I can’t make any sense of it.”
I shook my head. “Me either. Jimmy didn’t have enemies. I’ve wracked my brain over this and can’t figure it out. I’m missing something.”
“You go see the Irish? The suppliers?”
I nodded and glanced at Paddy out of the corner of my eye. I wasn’t sure how much to tell him. I’d handled things. If they came back around looking to get their business started up again, they’d have to answer to me. I’d already planned on telling Frankie the whole story to make sure he knew what to watch out for once I was gone. But did I need to tell Paddy, too? I hated the idea of dragging Jimmy and Tommy’s memory through the mud.
“They weren’t involved in this, at least not as far as I could tell.”
“Well, you’ve always been good at getting a read on people.”
“Seems he switched to them because they had a little side business going,” I ventured, keeping one eye on Paddy for any sign that he might have had an inkling all along.
“What kind of business?”
I flexed my jaw and stared out at the yard. “Girls. Working girls.”
“What?” Paddy hissed.
I met his eyes. “I took care of it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jimmy.” Paddy shook his head.
“My parents’ can’t know.”
“Of course not.”
“The Irish mob provided the clients and handled the cash.”
“That doesn’t sound like Jimmy.”
He was right. I leaned back and looked up at the sky. The morning clouds were starting to clear, and from the looks of things it was going to be a nice day. “What about Tommy?”
“What about him?”
“Does it sound like him? Gangster shit?”
Paddy was silent a beat longer than necessary. When I looked at him he didn’t meet my eyes. “That poor girl.”
I didn’t have to ask who he meant.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked, fighting to keep the anger from my tone. “In all these years no one bothered to tell me the truth about Tommy and Emma? I deserved to know.”
Paddy’s eyes flickered. “Did you?”
I reared back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Paddy waved a hand. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“No. I won’t. Tell me what you meant.”
“You left, Dylan. What did you think she was going to do? Wait for you? Is that what you wanted?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s in the past now. You and Emma. That’s all ancient history. Your father did his best to help out with the rent and lease on the restaurant.”
I ran a hand over my head, wishing I could step out of my skin. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d hated myself more. The image of Emma scraping and scrounging for pennies to pay her rent and take care of her mother and son while coping with an abusive husband... It was too much to bear.
“What happens to the pub now that Jimmy’s gone?”
Uncle Paddy shifted his weight. “I suppose Frankie will take it over again. Lord knows that’s not a good idea.”
I glanced up. “Why not?”
Paddy looked up at the sky. “I suppose he’s a little too much like his old man.”
“Paddy, what are you talking about?”
“You ever wonder why I didn’t step in and tell Frankie and Jimmy to forget their little bet?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it’s because I thought Frankie losing the place would teach him a lesson I still haven’t learned.” He paused to drag in a deep breath. “A few years ago, I was buried in debt. I got into some trouble at the tables. Jimmy helped bail me out. I never told anyone. Not even your father.”
“What happened?”
“You know that pub you went to? Over on Fourth Street. O’Doul’s?”
I nodded, remembering my recent visit.
“There’s an underground gambling ring that uses it a few nights a week for tournaments. Poker and blackjack mostly. When Frankie’s ma and I were going at it before the divorce, I spent a lot of time at the tables. I’d lose and lose, but I was at a place so dark I didn’t even care. Got so bad that I handed over the deed to the barber shop and the pub.”
“Paddy.” His words deflated me, like a little boy seeing the man behind the superhero mask.
“I’m not proud of it, son. It’s been the darkest shame of my life. And that’s saying something.” He shook his head, as though still in disbelief himself.
“How did Jimmy get you out of that?”
“He won it back. I figure there was a little more to it than that, but he’d never tell me. In any case, he came to the rescue.”
“How’d he even figure out you were in that deep?”
“He overheard me on the phone and put two and two together. You know how smart he was.”
I smiled. “Too smart for his own good most of the time.”
Paddy chuckled. “Whatever he did, it worked. I got my deeds back and vowed to never step in O’Doul’s again.”
“Which is why it made sense that his recent cash influx was from winning big at some poker game,” I said more to myself than Paddy.
“Exactly. I just figured he won some big pot and was sitting pretty. I never would’ve guessed he was running some kind of brothel.”
“I still haven’t figured it all out yet, but I’m starting to get the bigger picture.” I pushed up from the stairs. “I’ll see you at the pub tonight. We’ll get this train back on the tracks together, Paddy.”
“If anyone can, it’ll be you, my boy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emma
It was strange being back at the diner the following morning. I arrived before anyone else—as usual—and was shocked to find a pile of bloodied towels in the garbage bin. I appreciated that Dylan had seen to the clean up, but seeing the results—the proof—of his interrogations turned my stomach. How was it that Dylan could be such a tender man in moments of grief and pain and yet turn into such a violent force of nature? I hurried to bury the blood-soaked towels under another bag of trash and found some expired food in the fridge. It would all get taken away at the end of the day, but I knew the image of it wouldn’t leave me for some time to come.
Kate showed up a little while later and reported that Tommy had gotten off to school without issue. We worked together in silence, each knowing our roles like clockwork. Kate had started working in the diner after school when she was a junior and went full time after she graduated. She was taking night school classes—business management or whatever flavor of the month major she was currently on—but I knew it would be a while before I needed to worry about finding her replacement. She didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
The morning was always a blitz, especially on the weekdays when everyone was in a hurry and eager to get in and out as fast as possible. “I swear they think we’re a Starbucks or something,” Kate complained when the last of the rush died down. “How can we be expected to keep up with that when we serve a full breakfast? I only have two hands.”
“I know.” I gave her a sympathetic nod. “I wanted to work on simplifying the breakfast menu. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now, but Tommy—well, he didn’t like the idea.”
That was putting it mildly. I think his exact words were that I was trying to undermine the business so that we’d have to close down and I could stay home all day.
Asshole.
Kate looked up from the stack of menus she was wiping down. �
�Not to sound...cold, but you’re the one in charge now, Em. You can do what you think is best from here on out.”
“I suppose that’s true. Although, to be honest, this was never my dream.” I looked around the diner, as though my words could offend it.
“What do you want to do?” Kate asked, starting her work again.
I sighed. “That’s the problem. I have no idea.”
“Did Tommy have a life insurance policy?”
It was an innocent question, but it ruffled my feathers. His funeral had only been a few days before. Was it really appropriate to discuss his death benefits? The words death and benefits shouldn’t go together, in my opinion.
Kate paused and frowned over at me. “Sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s really not my business.”
“No, no. It’s a fair question. As far as I know there was an insurance policy in place. He set it up when Tommy Jr. was born.”
As long as he hadn’t gambled that away somehow, we’d be taken care of for a little while.
I hadn’t confided in Kate about the things Dylan had told me. I hadn’t told anyone. Mostly I tried not to think about it.
“So, in theory, could you sell this place if you wanted to?”
I poured myself a cup of coffee and took my time pouring cream and sugar into it. The spoon clattered against the edges of the ceramic mug, and I stared down at the swirling liquid as it turned from nearly black to an almond color. I’d always wanted to learn how to make fancy latte art, but Tommy had refused to buy a steaming machine. He said people should be happy with plain coffee. Maybe that’s where I could start. Get a proper espresso machine and take some barista classes. The idea sparked but quickly faded.
“I suppose so,” I said to Kate as I moved to take a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “At least the business. I don’t own any real estate.” We didn’t get a lot of down time throughout the day, so when a spare moment popped up I liked to get off my feet.
“Will you?”
“I don’t know, Kate. Why so many questions?”
She shrugged. “Just curious what you plan to do.”
“I don’t know. I’d have to find something else to do with my time. The money wouldn’t hold out forever.” My knees bobbed as I tapped my feet on the floor. “You think Mom would ever want to leave?”
