Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2)

by Lavender Parker

  “Just because the sex is good doesn't mean anything,” Austin said. “Believe me.”

  “She's good for me,” Tate repeated, making sure that Austin heard him. He wasn't interested in explaining his feelings. He just had them and they were what they were. The past forty-eight hours had been so shitty that he knew he was seriously messed up over her. There was no denying it anymore. He nodded, his mind already working and trying to figure out how to make things better with her. He had no idea how he'd fucked up, but he was going to fix it. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing his bag and slamming his locker door shut.

  “Wait a minute. You can't just drop that shit on me and then bail,” Austin said, his brow furrowed.

  “No, I appreciate it,” Tate said, clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Thanks for asking about her. I think I need to talk about her.”

  “We're not done talking,” Austin said. “This is the most you've said to me in months and I still don't have the whole story.”

  “What else is there to know?” Tate asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. “I like her. That's all that matters.”

  “That's not all that matters!” Austin exclaimed, staring at Tate like he'd grown two heads.

  “Yes it is,” Tate responded, shoving open the locker room door with a smile. He still didn't know what was wrong with Shay, but he suddenly had hope it would work itself out. But he had no intention of sitting idly by. No, it was time for action. And he was nothing if not a man of action.

  ***

  Shay lay flat on her back in her little twin bed, eyes trained to the ceiling. It was completely dark in the room, save for the crack of light between between the door and the doorjamb, but she still couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, the same way it had been for two days. Ever since her father had reappeared, she'd been hit with an unshakeable case of insomnia. It was entirely stress-induced, but there wasn't much she could do about it. Gina still didn't know Sam was back. Tate still didn't know Sam was back. The two people in the world she talked to the most, she couldn't confide in. She didn't know what she was going to do about her father. She was completely at a loss.

  Her phone vibrated on the nightstand and her whole body squeezed tight. She knew who it was immediately. There was only one person other than Gina who would text that late, after all. She'd been trying to avoid him as much as she could, but he wasn't making it easy on her. Until she figured out what to do, she wanted to stay far from Tate, because he would be able to sniff out that something was wrong. And if she started lying to cover her ass, he would know immediately. But she couldn't ignore him, so she grabbed the phone and quickly checked the message.

  Buzz me in was all it said.

  She scoffed, tossing the phone beside her in bed. The thought of him standing outside in the cold, wanting her to let him in sent butterflies into hyperdrive in her stomach. For a second she considered texting him back, telling him him that she was tired or that she was on her period or something, anything to make him go away. But in reality, she was dying to see him. One text from him and she was ready to get down on her knees and apologize and beg him to forgive her for being secretive, even though it wasn't her fault. It was completely Sam's fault that everything had turned to shit.

  Standing, she threw on a hoodie over her night shirt and pulled on a pair of yoga pants. She didn't bother putting on a bra or underwear, because she told herself it was going to be quick. She was going to say goodnight to him and that was it. She pulled off her scarf and shook out her hair, flicking on the light and checking herself in the mirror before she ventured out of the bedroom.

  She snuck quietly past the living room, trying not to garner attention from Gina and Thalia, who were cuddling together on the couch. It was still early when Shay had complained of a headache and gone to her room, but they didn't seem to miss her at all. Thankfully, they were so wrapped up in each other that neither of them looked up as she passed. She pressed down on the intercom key that unlocked the front door of the building, holding it down until she was sure he'd gotten inside. Then she unlocked the deadbolt as quietly as possible and stepped out into the hallway in her bare feet. The cracked old hexagon tiles of the building's hallway were cold beneath her toes, but she didn't mind. As she pulled the door up behind her, she could hear the building's elevator ding and rumble as it headed up, floor by floor. She knew he was on that elevator and her breath caught in her throat as it finally stopped at her floor.

  She wrapped her arms around her as the elevator door opened, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. He stepped out of the elevator into the hallway and she let out a slow breath. He looked even better than she remembered, which was ridiculous. Tate was just Tate, and yet, he seemed taller than usual. His cheeks were stubbled with a five o'clock shadow and his hair was slightly damp and curling, like he'd been at the gym. He glanced up and his eyes caught hers and she could've swore the whole rest of the world disappeared. Nothing else – not her family, not the money, not the past – seemed to matter in that moment.

  He was the only thing that mattered.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, lamely even though she knew exactly why he was there. He stopped in front of her and she craned her neck to look up at him. He had on his workout clothes and he smelled fresh and sweaty at the same time. He had a dark green hoodie under his leather jacket and the color brought out his eyes, even in the poorly lit hallway of Gina's building. He just looked damn good, really. She wanted hug him and bite him and kiss him, but she didn't. She just stood there, trying to keep her emotions in check.

  “Why haven't you been over?” he asked, as blunt as ever, not bothering with a greeting.

  “I've been tired,” she lied, swallowing hard in an attempt to contain herself.

  “Are you sick?” he asked, stepping even closer, his eyes scouring her face.

  “No,” she shook her head.

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  “What?” she asked, eyes going wide. That was the last thing that she expected to come out of his mouth, but she immediately thought of her father and she snapped her mouth shut to prevent an obvious lie from spilling out.

  “You heard me,” he said, dropping his gaze to her lips.

  “You come to my place in the middle of the night to ask if I'm fucking some other dude?” she said. “You could've just texted.”

  “You wouldn't have answered,” he said, dropping his face so that it was inches away from hers. “I think you like to torture me.” She stared up at him and he stared down at her. She was tempted to keep messing with him, but there was something about the look on his face that made her just want to make it easy on him. On both of them. Life was too short for so many games. Besides, she'd been shitty to him and he deserved better. He deserved the truth, but she couldn't give him that, not yet.

  “No,” she said, her eyes still on his. “I'm not seeing anyone else.” He exhaled sharply, like he was expecting a different answer. Her attention was drawn to his neck, to the thick vein that was bulging there. She wanted to run her finger down it, then she wanted to press her nose to the hot skin of his throat and breath him in. She wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go.

  “Come on a date with me,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, not sure if she'd heard him correctly.

  “Right now,” he said. “Will you go on a date with me?” He flicked his eyes back up to meet hers and she felt her heart stop at the look in them. He was serious.

  “A date?” she said, her heart drumming loudly in her ears. “It's midnight. Nothing's open.”

  “I know a place,” he said, his voice dropping low. She suppressed a moan as she let his words wash over her. She'd missed him so much. She'd missed his voice, she'd missed his presence, and she'd definitely missed his body. She'd missed every inch of his big body, in fact. Every mole, every scar, everything. She tilted her face up to meet his and he brushed his lips over hers, softl
y, like he was asking permission. A shiver of pure lust ran down her spine. She wanted him, that went without saying. But the thought of being alone with him and trying to keep a secret from him at the same time made her antsy. For the millionth time in her life, she wished she was a better liar.

  “I don't know,” she whispered as he backed her up against the wall. “I have work in the morning.”

  “So?” he said, not an ounce of doubt in his voice.

  “Tate,” she murmured, loving the feel of his name on her lips. She was breathing hard and so was he, so much lust passing between them it that it was thick in the air. She was almost tempted to drop to her knees and let him know right then and there just how much she missed him. “I'll get my coat,” she said instead, licking her lips at the dirty thought. Suddenly the thought of not going with him was a lot harder to imagine that the alternative. She would deal with having to make up a good lie if the situation arose, she told herself.

  She pushed open the door as quietly as possible and he followed her inside, without a word. She could still hear the TV echoing down the hallway, so she was hopeful Gina hadn't heard her. The illusion was shattered a second later.

  “Sugar, what are you doing out there?” Gina called out, suddenly. “Going in and out like that?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, but then the hallway light turned on and there was no hiding the 6'5'' man standing in the foyer. Gina stood at the other end of the hallway, her hand poised over the light switch, staring at them with wide eyes.

  “Oh,” was all Gina said. Shay groaned inwardly, but then put her big girl panties on and did the introductions.

  “Auntie, this is my friend Tate. Tate, my aunt Gina,” Shay said brusquely, just wanting to get the embarrassing moment over with.

  “Nice to meet you,” Tate said, his voice flat.

  “Mm-hmm,” Gina said, her eyes going from surprised to knowing in the span of a second. Gina had known Shay was seeing someone, but she didn't know who. Shay was pretty sure Gina wasn't expecting someone like Tate. Even in his workout clothes, he practically had NYPD written all over him. In fact, an NYPD emblem was on the front of his hoodie, Shay noticed a second later.

  “We're going to go out,” Shay said, quickly.

  “Go out? But it's midnight,” Gina said, furrowing her brow in disapproval. Shay glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall as she grabbed her coat out of the small entry closet beside the front door.

  “I'll be back in a bit,” Shay said, avoiding her aunt's eyes as she shoved her feet into her Aunt's pair of sherpa-lined boots.

  “Dress warm,” Tate said, his voice low. Shay narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out where he was taking her on their mystery date.

  “I have to get my purse,” she said, running her hand across his chest as she headed down the hallway into the apartment. He nodded and stayed put as Gina zoomed after her and followed her into her bedroom.

  “What are you doing?” Gina hissed when they were out of earshot. Shay grabbed her phone off the bed and shrugged innocently.

  “I won't be late for work tomorrow. Don't worry,” Shay said, as nonchalantly as possible.

  “He's a cop, Sugar,” Gina said, stepping inside the room. “A white one, at that.”

  “He's not white. Not all white, anyway,” Shay said with a shrug. “But yes, he's a cop.” She thew on her coat and grabbed her purse from the top of the dresser.

  “Does he know about all of your shit?” Gina asked, putting her hands on her hips like a know-it-all mother hen. “Does he know about Sam?”

  “He knows,” Shay said. “Most of it,” she couldn't help adding.

  “Uh huh,” Gina said, shaking her head.

  “Don't be like that,” Shay said, scrunching up her nose in annoyance at her aunt's snap judgement. “He's good.”

  “He seems too... stiff. Too quiet.” Gina said, making a face. “I don't trust the quiet ones.”

  “He's just shy,” Shay said, tossing her phone in her bag.

  “A big man like that ain't shy. He's intimidating. I bet he likes to throw his weight around.”

  “Just because he has a dick doesn't mean he is one, auntie.” Shay turned toward the mirror, checking her makeup and hair.

  “And just what do you know about his dick?”

  “Auntie!” Shay rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to go there?” Gina mulled her niece's words over for a minute as Shay primped in the mirror. Finally, she shrugged like she knew the battle was already lost.

  “You're just taking me by surprise is all,” Gina said. “I didn't expect... well, I don't know what I expected.”

  “Believe me, I didn't expect it either,” Shay said. Truer words had never left her mouth, she mused. When she was in Bedford, she never would've guessed in a million years where she was going to end up upon her release. What a strange trip it had been.

  “You have seemed a little light on your feet lately,” Gina said, leaning in close, studying Shay's face in the mirror. “And a lot of those worry lines seem to have disappeared like magic.” Shay threw her hands up over her face and pushed past her nosy aunt.

  “I never had any lines!” she hissed as she left the room.

  “Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” Gina called after her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is a park,” Shay said when Tate pulled his car to a stop at the end of the cul de sack in front of Fort Tryon Park. Snowflakes fell serenely in the light of the headlights, but beyond the car, it was dark as sin and deserted as hell.

  “Yes it is,” Tate said as he shifted to park.

  “This is the date?” she asked, turning in her seat to look at him. “Are we going to sit in the car in the heat?”

  “No,” he shook his head, a smile curving over his lips.

  “But it's freezing outside,” Shay said, glancing out the windshield at the falling snow already collecting on the windshield wipers. “It's snowing.”

  “I noticed,” he said, then turned off the car. The headlights died and darkness blanketed them. He pocketed his keys and opened his door, the old metal creaking and echoing in the cold silence. Some of the heat seeped out into the cold night as he got out of the car. Then he slammed his door shut before she could ask him if he was serious. Shay sat alone in the car and watched his shadowy figure walk around the car to her side. He opened her door for her and stared down at her, white snowflakes dotting his leather-jacket covered shoulders. “You coming?” he asked, and she could hear the laugh at the back of his throat.

  He was messing with her, getting too much enjoyment out of her reluctance. She slid out of the car without another thought, pulling her hood up over her hair. If this was the date that he wanted to have, then this was the date they would have. “Okay, what now?” she asked, when she was standing beside the car. He chuckled and reached into her side of the car, opening the glove compartment. He pulled out something in a paper bag and then shut the door behind him. “What's that?” she asked, feeling nosy as hell. He pulled the top of the object, sliding it up out of the bag. It was a wine bottle, she realized. “Oh my God,” she said, a laugh bubbling up. “Mr. NYPD, you know that's illegal right?”

  “I won't tell if you won't,” he said, tucking the bottle under his arm like a football and then holding his other hand out for hers. She took it, sliding her thickly gloved fingers in between his.

  “Didn't anyone ever inform you that a park in New York City is dangerous at night?” she said as they walked past the chained front entrance.

  “You got a big strong man to protect you and you're still scared?” He clicked his tongue. “I thought you were a tough prison chick.”

  “Excuse me but this whole thing was short notice. I didn't have time to make a shiv out of my toothbrush before I left,” she said, poking him in the side with her elbow. “Although I might have some brass knuckles in my purse.”

  “Good to know,” he said, leading her over to the fenced off driveway that lead to the Cloisters
museum. It was low enough to climb over.

  “Are we really going to do this?” she asked when they reached the gate. “It's so dark.”

  “Yup,” he said and handed her the bottle of wine. Then he hoisted his long leg up on the metal gate and jumped over. “You're not scared of the dark are you?” he asked when he was on the other side with two feet on the ground.

  “No,” she said, tucking the bottle of wine into her big bag. She glanced back over her shoulder at the cul de sac. It was still deserted and serenely quiet, no vehicles in sight except for Tate's parked car on the far side. If she'd been alone or with anyone else, it would have felt extremely creepy. But with him, it just felt kind of like an adventure. An illegal adventure, but an adventure nonetheless. Without a word, he held out his arms for her and she took his hands. He helped her fumble her way over the gate, pulling her into his big, warm chest before she could slip on the slick ground. The moment didn't last nearly long enough for her, though. He took a step back when she was steady, taking her hand again and leading her further into the park.

  There was a lone streetlamp a few feet from the gate, so they had some light as they made their way to a skinny trail that branched off the main road. She'd only been to Fort Tryon Park once in her life, on a school field trip to the Cloisters, despite the fact that she'd grown up less than five miles away. Luckily, Tate seemed to know exactly where he was going. He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight and she followed behind him, her hand tightly grasping his. The night wasn't as cold as she originally thought. The longer she was in it, the less cold it seemed. She was so focused on him and where he was taking her that she barely noticed it. The dark branches and falling snow around her were almost romantic in a strange, wild way. She never would have done something like that on her own, at least not in the middle of a snow shower. When she was young, she and her friends had spent a lot of time in Central Park after dark, smoking and drinking and getting into trouble like the young idiots that they were. But that was different. This was different.