His Fight: The Downing Family Book 5

by Wild, Cassie

  Brooks hitched up a shoulder and looked away. “I’m pulling out. Shit, Briar. This was never the life I wanted. I was going to be a lawyer. I wanted…” He scrubbed his hands up and down his face, a hard sigh escaping him. “I wanted something different. Something better. But I kept getting sucked back in, and I got so tired of fighting it. But then I met Daria, and shit started happening with her…”

  He looked away, staring off at nothing with hard, flat eyes. Finally, he shifted that gaze to me, and I saw a world of hell there—hell, grief, anger.

  “What happened?” I could barely hear the words coming from my raw throat.

  “She could have died. She could have been hurt in ways I don’t want to think about. And almost all of it happened because of me, because of the lifestyle I chose to live. I never would have met her if it wasn’t for the life I’ve lived, so I can’t entirely say I regret the choices I’ve made, either. But bad shit happened to her, and I can’t ever take those memories away.”

  As he lapsed into silence, I folded my arms across my belly, wondering if I should say anything.

  But I didn’t know what I could say, so I remained silent.

  “I can make amends, though. She thinks I can be a good man, so…” He swallowed and looked back at me. “I start by being the man she believes I can be. Somebody she can be proud of. And maybe, somebody my sister can be proud of too.”

  A knot had settled in my throat, in my chest. It was so big, it ached. But I couldn’t just forget everything I’d learned, all the revelations I’d forced myself to accept—finally.

  Looking away from him, I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “It won’t be that easy to win me back over, Brooks.”

  “I didn’t expect it would be.” He sounded so very tired.

  I leaned back against the trunk, staring out at nothing. “I can’t live with this, Brooks,” I said softly. “A part of me has always known that there was…something, you know? A part of me knew there was something not right with us. But weapons trafficking? Drug dealing? Shit, I can’t think of much of anything worse than those things, except maybe human trafficking.”

  Brooks made a low sound, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

  I jerked my head around and stared at him. “What?”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and said something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch.

  “Brooks…” I said, taking a step toward him.

  “The Castellanos family,” he said softly. He looked back at me, his face a mask. “Not all of them, really. They mostly deal with drugs and prostitution, but Marcos Castellanos has been dealing in human trafficking, including underage girls.”

  My mouth fell open on a surprised gasp. “Does Isabel know?”

  “Yeah.” He looked away. “Dad and Basilio, Isabel’s father, had hoped Sean and Isabel would hit it off. If they did, the two families could form a partnership of sorts. It’s not working out as well as Dad had hoped because of some shit Marcos tried to pull with Daria, and both Isabel and I intervened. So the business relationship is kind of strained. Basilio wasn’t happy with the shit Marcos tried to pull. But I don’t know if that means Marcos has stopped or not.”

  I wanted to curl up into a ball and weep. I settled for wrapping my arms around my middle, staring at the ground numbly.

  “Briar.” Brooks took a step toward me.

  Numbly, I lifted my head and stared at him.

  “Listen, I’m out. I’m focusing on real estate now, and I’ve convinced Dad to start putting serious money into that. Legit, serious money. Give me time. I can bring him around, and Declan will always follow Dad’s lead. And Sean? He’ll come around in time too. Just…give me time.”

  “Are you asking me not to say anything?” Incredulous, I stared at him.

  “I…hell, I can’t answer that.” Clearly frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. “But don’t write us all off yet. The past few months, with what’s happened with Daria and everything, it hit Dad pretty hard. I can bring him around. Just…” He gave me a pleading look. “I need time.”

  My heart ached. For him. For me. For the blissful ignorance I’d lost.

  Shoving off the car, I said softly, “I might give you some. Because I love them, and I don’t want to lose them. But I can’t pretend this doesn’t affect me.”

  * * *

  We’d shared some strained meals before.

  This was one of the worse.

  It was mostly my fault, although I couldn’t say I felt guilty for it. My brothers and Dad clearly realized something was off, and they were walking on eggshells around me like they always did when I wasn’t happy.

  Finally, when Sean asked what was going on with me, I gave him a sharp-toothed smile. “I had a bad few days at work. Sorry. It put me in a bad mood. Should I go?”

  “Don’t be silly!” Dad said, giving Sean a look like he’d just kicked a puppy.

  Sean rolled his eyes but said nothing, while Daria gave me a sympathetic look. “I imagine working such a job can be very stressful.”

  “Most of the time, I enjoy it.” I shrugged and took a bite of the French toast. Looking across the table, I met Brooks’s eyes and held them for a long moment. Then I skimmed my eyes around the table. “A few days ago, though, I had a rough shift. There was a clash between a gang of skinheads and a group of young black guys, and the injured were brought into the ED. One of the skinheads didn’t like having a black nurse, and he became…difficult. Things got out of hand, and I ended up getting hurt. I can’t tell you how much more difficult my job is because of needless violence.”

  Brooks stared wordlessly at his plate. Declan’s eyes shot my way, eyes narrowing. I saw the unspoken questions there, but Dad was the one to demand, “Hurt? How? Who is responsible?”

  I stared at Declan a moment longer before looking at my father. “The cops are handling it, Dad. I can’t give you that information without it endangering my job, so please don’t ask.” I cut off another bite of French toast. “And the who, in particular, isn’t really important. I’m just one more innocent bystander in the endless cycle of needless violence. It’s…tedious.”

  This time, as a strained silence fell over the room, I began to eat with relish. Oddly enough, I found that my appetite had returned.

  * * *

  The strain lessened a little bit as Isabel, Daria, and I started talking plans for Christmas Day.

  My brothers and father were in the room and were supposedly contributing, but from what I could tell, they seemed happy to leave it to us. They ended up focusing more on a game they found on TV, and as they became involved in it, the noise level rose.

  The three of us moved into the library to get on the desktop and start looking up recipes and making notes.

  The guys stayed behind to watch the game.

  “I’m thirsty,” Daria said before we even had a chance to sit down. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you all want anything?”

  “I’ll take some more juice,” I told her.

  “Water for me,” Isabel said.

  Daria’s footsteps faded down the hall. Bent over the desktop, I typed in the name of a dish—or what I thought was the name—that I could recall my mom making.

  “How are things with you and Cormac?”

  I glanced up as Isabel sat down next to me. I found myself thinking about what Brooks had said about her brother, and instinctively, a wall went up. I tried not to show it, though. It was entirely possible that Isabel was as in the dark as I’d been up until a few days ago. A purposeful, willful intention, no doubt, but still, in the dark.

  “We’re not talking much right now,” I said softly.

  “Breaking up?” Although she tried to handle it, there was a little too much interest in her voice.

  I gave her an assessing glance, trying to figure out just what had her asking. “I’m not sure we were at the point to where we even could break up. We’ve…” Slept together? Gone out? I didn’t know how to put it. “We’ve only k
nown each other a few weeks, really. We had a fight. We need a cool-down period. Mind if I ask why you’re so curious?”

  “I…” She bit her lower lip, looking oddly uncertain. She was so self-confident, she clearly didn’t know how to handle not being certain on anything. “I just get a funny vibe around him, Briar. I’m not sure he’s all on the up and up. I mean…”

  But she lapsed into silence as footsteps echoed in the hall, signifying Daria’s return.

  “I just want you to be careful,” Isabel added in a low tone. “Okay?”

  Twenty

  Cormac

  There were plenty of times in my life when I’d felt out of place but standing there in the florist’s shop was pretty much the worst. People gave me sidelong looks, and the old man behind the counter looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know if he should approach or call the cops.

  Salvation came in the form of a petite Latina girl who was probably all of eighteen. She might have stood five feet in her bare feet, although she wasn’t in her bare feet—the platform heels she wore gave her a good five inches. Colorful tattoos twined along her arms, shoulders, and neck along with hoops almost as big around as my wrist hung from her ears.

  When she appeared at my side, I was staring grimly at the refrigerated displays trying to figure out which of them would appeal to Briar. The problem was, none of them really caught my attention.

  “Going to a funeral?” the girl asked.

  I glanced over at her. “No.”

  “Shopping for a gift then?”

  “Yeah.” I hunched my shoulders, feeling like an idiot.

  “Wellllll…” She drew the word out, bouncing on those ridiculously high heels. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re shopping for. Maybe I can help.”

  I gave her a skeptical look. “You work here?”

  “No, man. I just walk into random stores and ask random people what they are looking for.” She rolled her eyes, good humor glinting in their depths. “Yes. I work here.”

  I looked around, my gaze lingering on the old guy behind the counter.

  She must have read my mind because she started to laugh. “Be nice,” she chided, wagging a finger at me. “Abuelo isn’t too keen on the ink or the earrings, but he knows talent, and I got it in spades. So, you want me to help you out or not?”

  Some of the tension gripping me melted away at the confidence shining in her eyes. I glanced back at the man she’d indicated was her grandfather, then back at her. Nodding, I said, “Okay. Yeah. Please. This girl and I…we’re kind of dating. And I was an as…a jerk.”

  A smile tugged at her mouth. “Guys like you are some of my best customers. Come on.” She beckoned at me with long, cocoa-brown nails. “Let’s talk, and I’ll see if we can come up with something spectacular so your lady will talk to you again.”

  “I never said we weren’t talking,” I said stiffly, following her along through the maze of flowers, ferns, and other frivolous things.

  “You never said you were, either.” She gestured to a stool on one side of a big work table and went around to the other side, hopping on another stool opposite me. “So, tell me about her.”

  “Well…she’s about five seven…”

  “No, no, no…” She laughed. “That’s not what I mean, Mr…you know, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Just call me Cormac.”

  She nodded. “Okay, Cormac. I’m Lupita. I go by Lou. I don’t need to know what she looks like. I want to know what she is like. Is she a fussy type of girly-girl? Is she more classic? Does she like to read? Is she a party girl?”

  Shit, all of this to get some flowers?

  Lou must have read my mind. She tapped a pen on the table. “Do you want to just grab some flowers from the fridge and go, or do you want to give her something that makes her heart sigh?”

  “Okay, okay.” I held up my hands. “I wouldn’t call her fussy. So, classic, I suppose. But definitely female. She’s got a kick-ass sports car, so she’s not opposed to flashy stuff, but mostly she’s…what’s the word…understated. Smart, too. And I mean, genius smart.”

  Lou nodded. She had a notepad in front of her but didn’t take any notes. “Okay, so I think we should just skip the red rose route. Traditional might make her smile, but it’s not going to make her heart mushy enough that she’ll forgive whatever boneheaded thing you did.” She cracked her knuckles, like a boxer getting ready for a match. Then, sliding off the stool, she asked, “Budget?”

  “I dunno. Whatever it takes.” How much could some flowers cost?

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Sweetie, you better give me a dollar amount, or you’ll end up spending five hundred bucks. Give me a budget, now.”

  Five hundred? I gaped at her. Then, shaking my head, I said, “Hell. I don’t know. A hundred or a hundred-fifty.”

  “Good.” She pointed at the stool where I sat. “You stay right there. Let me work.”

  Forty minutes and one hundred and eighty-two dollars later, I was on my way to Briar’s. Lou had talked me into upgrading to a crystal vase, so it had run seventy-five dollars more than the original allotted budget.

  It had been almost a week since I’d seen Briar. Each day that passed, Jerrel’s warning rang louder and louder inside my head, and I knew I had to do something to keep him away from her, but indecision had kept me frozen. I’d pushed myself into action today when I’d overheard him on the phone, likely talking to Marcos.

  As much as I hated what I was doing, I couldn’t risk him trying to get in close with Briar, and it wasn’t just because I couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching her. Although I was honest enough that the idea definitely didn’t appeal, I knew Jerrel and his type too well. They’d stop at nothing to accomplish their goal, and while my motives were far from pure, I had no desire to see Briar used and hurt.

  I didn’t know how I was going to avoid hurting her, but at least I wouldn’t be going into this with the plan to totally obliterate her feelings either.

  There had to be something I could do that would make Marcos think I’d done as he’d ask while still protecting Briar. But no matter how hard I wracked my brain about it, I couldn’t think of a better option.

  Pulling into her driveway, I parked my car next to hers and stared up at the house. The scent of flowers pretty much flooded the car. Otherwise, I might have sat in there a little while longer, letting my nerves and self-loathing eat away at me.

  Once outside, I had no choice but to start up the walkway. Briar flicked open the curtains and her gaze locked with mine, so I could either leave or I could stop being a coward and go up there and give her the box I held in my hands. Blooms poked up through the top, while a cardboard ring and Styrofoam secured the vase filled with the buds of lilies and purple daisies and skinny stems called sinuata statices.

  If it wasn’t for the threat Jerrel had lobbed at me about him making a move on Briar, I might have taken the coward’s route.

  My feet felt heavier than they ever had as I trudged up to her door. Even though she knew I was there, she kept me waiting almost two minutes after I knocked.

  Finally, she opened the door, and my breath caught in my chest at the sight of her.

  She wore a cami and pajama pants, her hair pulled back in a short, simple ponytail. The fading bruise on her cheek stood out in stark relief. She hadn’t made an effort to cover it, so I was under no illusion she’d spent any of that two minutes in the bathroom fussing over her appearance.

  I stood there, staring through the screen door at her, holding the flowers and feeling like a fool.

  She didn’t open the door or speak.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, forcing the words out. It took more effort than I’d thought it would.

  Briar cocked her head, her eyes carefully blank. “Are you? For what?”

  Shit, she wasn’t going to make an attempt to make this easy, was she?

  “For a lot of things,” I said truthfully. I was sorrier than she’d ever know fo
r things I couldn’t even tell her about. “I’m sorry for what I said about your family. I’m sorry for not thinking about how shit like me fighting must affect you. I’m sorry for being a general arsehole.”

  She didn’t answer for so long, I wasn’t sure if she would.

  But finally, she unlocked the screen door and stepped aside. “Come on in if you want.”

  Twenty-One

  Briar

  I’d only been home about an hour when Cormac showed up. I’d already showered, washing the makeup off my face and scrubbing away the sweat of the day from my body and hair. If I’d known he was coming over, I would have waited, if for no other reason than because the makeup provided a strange sort of armor, hiding that fading bruise on my face.

  His eyes kept straying to it, and I didn’t like the glint that kept appearing in his eyes.

  I reminded myself that he’d purposely chosen to live a life where stupid, pointless violence was just part and parcel, so if the bruise on my face bothered him, that was his fault, not mine.

  But even with that in my head, I felt too exposed standing in the foyer just a few feet away from him, with my unwashed face, wearing my pajamas with no bra or panties.

  He held a box in front of him, awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

  I could see what was in it, but since he couldn’t figure out how to offer me the flowers, I wasn’t going to just take them.

  Turning on my heel, I went into the kitchen. “I’m pouring myself some wine.”

  He followed along behind me, and as I opened the fridge, he said, “I got these for you.”

  I heard him set the box down, and despite myself, I couldn’t keep from smiling a little at the self-consciousness in his voice.

  After I pulled out a bottle of wine, I turned and looked toward the box. I didn’t go to him immediately, though, despite the fact that curiosity was eating at me. First, I opened the wine and poured a glass, taking a sip before moving over to peer at the flowers. I’d glimpsed the tips of a few blooms earlier, but the sight of the entire bouquet made me gasp.