by Anna Brooks
He leans in closer, and the wrinkles around his eyes fade slightly. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
I reach out and grab his hands, which are resting on top of the table. “Me too.”
The guys get back with our drinks and Vaughn sits next to me, resting his arm on the back of the booth.
“You didn’t get anything?” I ask after I take a sip of my drink.
His fingers play with my hair, and he shakes his head. “Gotta be good to drive you home.”
“I can drive if you want to drink.”
“It’s all good. Have fun.”
I lean up and kiss his cheek. The four of us chat for about a half an hour before Kenny and I dance. I’d wanted to dance with Vaughn, but Brad was actually the one who insisted because he’s not a fan of dancing. But when I look back at them, their heads are lowered, and Brad is saying something to Vaughn as he nods his head.
“What are they talking about?”
Kenny turns so his back is to them. “I think Wyatt is stirring shit up again. Brad ran into him at the gym and got in his face. I wasn’t there, and Brad only gave me vague details, but I’m guessing there’s more.”
“That sucks. Let me know if you need anything from me, okay?”
He grabs my arm and twirls me before pulling me back against his chest. “Last thing I want is for you to get involved with him.” He slides his hands down the side of my hips. “Let’s see how long it takes for your man to break.”
After about a song and a half, Vaughn comes over and cuts in. We dance and laugh and make out in the middle of the crowded room. It might as well just be the two of us, though, because I don’t even notice my surroundings anymore.
I take a bathroom break and realize it’s almost one in the morning. I don’t have to work tomorrow, but Vaughn does, so when I get out, I tell him I’m ready to go.
“You sure? We can stay until last call.”
“I’m sure.” If I don’t get us going, he’d stay forever just because he thought it’d make me happy.
The three of us stand in the vestibule again while Vaughn gets his truck. When he pulls up, he gets out and opens my door for me then helps me inside. The heat is already on, and I rub my hands together in front of the heater.
“Dammit, it’s so fucking cold.” Vaughn slams his door and cranks the heat up.
“Why did you come back to this ice bucket?”
Without missing a beat, he says, “To find you.”
Damn one-liners. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too, baby.” His chilled fingers trace the side of my face.
I turn my head and kiss his finger. “I love you.”
He smiles and cups my chin before gently kissing me. I sit back, and he carefully drives us back to his place since it’s closer. Even though it stopped snowing a couple of hours ago, the roads are really slick, and neither one of us wants to be driving longer than we have to.
After he parks in his space, he walks around to get me, using both of his hands to steady me on the ice, and then unlocks the door leading to the stairs. He hands me the key that opens the door to his place. “I’m just going to throw some more salt down real quick.”
“Okay.”
I hear the door slam and rush up to his warm apartment. I get the key in and turn the lock. Before I even get the door pushed open all the way, deja vu strikes, but this time instead of an arm around my throat, it’s a knife. I swallow, and the blade presses even tighter against my skin.
I don’t even try to fight. Vaughn will be right up. I keep telling myself that over and over in my head in order to stay calm.
“If you know what’s good for your man, you’ll leave that pretty little mouth of yours closed.”
My attention momentarily strays from the fact a knife is to my throat and moves to the man whose words are sending a chill down my spine. He remains seated on Vaughn’s couch; his pale skin and thin frame remind me of someone fighting a terminal illness. The only thing that makes me realize he’s not sick—well, physically, at least—is because his bright blue eyes are sparkling with evil.
He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t move a millimeter. He flicks a toothpick around in his mouth, and when footsteps pound up the stairs, I suck in a breath as a drip of blood slides down my neck.
“I don’t want you tippin’ off my old pal that he’s got visitors and then him doing something stupid.” He smirks. “Just hang in there. I’m not gonna hurt you unless you ask.”
Chapter 22
Vaughn
As I jog up the stairs, I’m itching with the need to be with Rayne. I need to remember to talk to the owners of this building because whoever they have plowing does a shit ass job. They never throw any salt down, and I’ve almost busted my ass more than once.
When I reach the door, it’s cracked, and the key is still in it. I only have a brief second to wonder what happened before the blood in my veins turns colder than the arctic temperatures outside.
“Join us, please.” Petey doesn’t get his ass off my couch, and I slam the door closed behind me, only to see a knife at my girl’s throat and some motherfucker’s hands on her.
“Call your fuckin’ dog off, or I swear to God, neither one of you will walk out of here alive.” I clench my jaw and wait for him to do what I say.
He nods at the bastard who has Rayne, and he slides the knife into the case on his hip. After he loosens the arm around her waist, he shoves her at me. I use one hand to put her behind me and then fly at him and bash his jaw with my fist. He swings his right arm at me, and I use my left to grab the knife then kick his feet out, so he lands on his back. Without so much as a breath, I land on him and press the blade against his throat. “You ever. Ever,” I scream, “touch her again, and I will take this knife and cut your dick off before feeding it to you through your ass.”
“Dammit, Vaughn. Get off him,” Petey orders from the couch.
“Do you hear me?” I ask this dickwad, ignoring Petey’s commands.
He nods, but that’s not good enough for me.
“You a fuckin’ mute? Answer me!”
“I hear you.” He gasps and grabs at my arm.
I stab the knife into my wood floor a centimeter from his head and dig my knee into his stomach before I stand up. He crawls away, and I hold my hand out behind me for Rayne. She grabs it, I pull her behind me, and she takes hold of the back of my jacket. I try to reassure her everything will be okay by giving her thigh a squeeze.
I know why Petey’s here . . . and I know what he wants.
“Heard Dirt paid you a visit.”
I don’t confirm or deny but continue to stare at him. I’m trying my best to rein in my temper because I want them gone so I can try to explain this shit to Rayne.
“You know what happens if I don’t get my money.”
“And you know I couldn’t care less.”
“That’s cold, V.”
“That’s retribution.”
Petey stands up and motions for his guy to leave. Once he’s in the hallway, Petey comes closer, and Rayne’s body tightens behind me. His features relax momentarily.
“It’s only fifteen K, man. I know you got it.”
“I don’t owe you or her shit.” My stomach bottoms out saying it, but it’s the truth. It’s taken me over two decades to come to the realization, but still.
“Fuck, Vaughn. Don’t make me do it.”
“I’m not making you do shit.”
He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and shakes his head. “Two weeks.”
It’s already been a month since Dirt was here. I’m surprised it took Petey this long to come. “Don’t extend her deadline on my account. I’m not payin’ you shit.”
With his hand on the knob, he releases a humorless laugh. “You really are a stone cold bastard, aren’t you?”
Instead of dignifying his question with a response, I squint my eyes at him. He tosses a peace sign in the air and walks out. As soon as I hear the street lev
el door shut, I turn and grab Rayne’s face with both of my hands. “You okay?”
“I think so.”
My throat dries up, and I pull her into my arms. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. This shouldn’t ever fucking touch you.”
A small tremor runs through her body, and she holds on for dear life. I wait for her to ask, and I debate on what I should answer.
“What’s going on, Vaughn?”
She doesn’t give me much time to construct a thought, so I just spill it. “My mother owes Petey money. Petey doesn’t take kindly to people stiffing him. As in, if you don’t pay up, you end up dead.”
“What does she owe him money for?”
“Drugs. Probably meth.”
I hear the gasp before she tries to cover it with clearing her throat. She lifts her head up and rests a hand on my cheek. “I have some money saved up. Not all of it, but I’m sure I could get more from my parents.”
My jaw unhinges, partly to reply, but mostly because I’m amazed by this selfless woman who has given me more in the months I’ve known her than I ever realized was even possible. “I love you. And I love that that’s the first thing you think. But no.”
“Well, do you have it?”
“What? The money?”
“I don’t want to pry, but I kind of assumed since you lived- I’m sorry. That was rude.” She thinks I’m broke. I don’t know if I should be insulted or touched that she’s still with me thinking I’m poor.
“You’re adorable.” I grab her hand and lead her to the kitchen where she sits at the table, and I grab a beer and then lean on the fridge. “You want one?”
“No.”
For a woman who just had a knife to her throat, she’s surprisingly calm. I grew up in that world, but I’ve been removed from it intentionally since I was eighteen. She’s never seen it but manages to remain levelheaded. Impressive. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, darlin’.”
Her eyes widen, and then the skin between them scrunches. The confusion is to be expected since I live in a shit hole and I drive an old ass truck. But I don’t see the need to get a new truck when the one I have still works fine. And this place, it’s only temporary. I don’t need much, so I don’t see a reason to get a bigger house.
“People pay a lot of money for me to tattoo them. I haven’t had anything to spend the majority of that money on.” Plus, I always swore to myself I’d never be in the position to be hungry or without a home, so I tend to be more frugal than most people are.
“Oh, okay. So you can give him the money.”
“I can. But I’m not going to.”
“What?” She raises her voice. “But you just said she’d end up dead.”
Before I tell her more, I ask her a question. “Have you ever thought about how I know people like the guys who were here earlier? Or the guys who were here last month? Or why I had to steal food?”
“I’m not trying to be judgmental, but you said you grew up in the valley, so I just assumed . . .”
“You’re right. We all grew up on the same block—Dirt, or Lenny is his real name, Petey, and me. We understood what it was like to fight to survive and to be hungry. We helped the other when we had to sleep on the streets because prostitutes were in . . .our bed.”
As I talk, her face pales, and her eyes become moist.
“They both had their hands in the proverbial drug pot since they were about twelve. I stayed away from that shit because even though I knew I was trash, I knew I wanted to get out of there. Plus, I was too busy scraping for food to waste any time on drugs. My mother is not a nice person, Rayne. She’s a vile, unsympathetic, cold, and cruel woman.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I take a swallow of beer and start peeling the label off. “Hell, babe. She sat back and watched every time my stepdad beat the shit out of me. Not one time did she try to stop it. She was the one who would lock me in my closet so she wouldn’t have to hear me crying after he’d break another one of my fingers.”
“No, Vaughn,” she whispers so quietly I can barely hear it.
“I don’t know how I survived, but I did. I wanted to get out of there, and I wanted something better. Every damn morning, I woke up and said a prayer that that day would be the one my mom would tell me she loved me. That maybe she’d stick up for me. I tried everything. When my stepdad would turn his anger on her, I fought for her. I fought for her!” I scream the last sentence and throw my beer bottle across the room. “Fuck.” I press my fists into my eyes.
“Vaughn.” Rayne’s shaky voice makes my drop my hands.
“My mom was passed out, and he . . .” I swallow the fucking lump in my throat. “I watched as he stuck a needle in his arm. It was nothing new for me to witness, but I was waiting for him to pass out too, so I could see if anything was in the pantry. I was starving. It only took a few seconds after he injected whatever the fuck it was before he started convulsing.”
She stands and grabs my arms. “Oh, my God.”
“I walked into the living room and stood over him and watched it.” My heart pumps, and my hands shake. The memories, the fucking nightmares—they begin to wrap around my throat as tight as my stepdad used to choke me. “Along with the blood from his nose and the foam from his mouth, I watched the life drain out of him. I didn’t even call the cops. I just went to my room and crawled under the sheet on my bed and waited. Pretended I was sleeping.”
“That had to have been awful for you.”
The laugh that comes out of me sounds more like a cry. “That wasn’t awful. What was awful was having my mom blame me and kick me out of the house because she thought I could have prevented it. She didn’t even know where I was more than half the time, nor did she care. So the fact she blamed me was preposterous. Actually, no, I take it back. It wasn’t awful; it was probably the best thing she could have done for me. I was homeless for about seven months before I was arrested for underage drinking, trespassing, vandalism, and curfew violation, and then spent the next three years in juvie until I turned eighteen and they shoved me out with no more than the clothes on my back.”
“You were just a child, Vaughn. My God, I can’t believe nobody stepped up to help.”
I don’t reply to her statement. I may have been young, but I knew right from wrong. “Maybe if I had saved him, she would have loved me even a little. She hates me. I don’t know what I did, but no matter how hard I tried, she never did. She never loved me, Rayne. All I ever wanted was for her to care, and she never did. She never fucking did. All I wanted was her to love me.”
Rayne wraps her arms around me and squeezes me harder than I thought possible for such a little thing. “Shh.” She grabs my face and presses her lips against mine. “I’m sorry, Vaughn. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I can’t even say anything as the emotions I’ve been avoiding pummel me harder than I’ve ever been hit in my life. I’ve never said those words out loud to anyone, and hearing them come through my lips scares the shit out of me. No matter how much I try to hate her and no matter how many times I try to forget about her, I fucking can’t.
She’s why I came back. When my stepdad died that night, I not only lost him, but I also lost the little bit of hope I had about my mom ever loving me. She never once visited me in jail, never once tried to call. And every fucking year when I send her a birthday card, she sends it back.
“You are a wonderful man, Vaughn. You are kind and compassionate. You’re incredibly thoughtful and fun and so, so caring. I love you. I love you so goddamned much. I know it’s not the same, but I don’t want you for one second to think you aren’t deserving of it.”
I kiss the top of her head and inhale her soothing scent.
“I’m not deserving, Rayne. I’ll never be deserving of your love, but since you’re willing to give it, I’m taking it, and I’m never letting go.”
Chapter 23
Rayne
“Let me ask you something.” I separate myself from Vaughn but h
old his hands. “If the roles were reversed, would she help you?” When I ask him, I’m still struggling to comprehend all of this.
“No.” He answers immediately and without question. “She wouldn’t.”
“My gut is telling me that you’re doing the right thing, Vaughn.” I feel disgusted on his behalf. What kind of mother kicks her kid out on the streets and sits by and watches while he is beaten? “And would your paying these people get you into trouble? I mean I can’t imagine you’d want to have anything to do with them.”
“I’ve managed to keep myself pretty neutral, and as much as I’d like to say that Petey would let me just give him the cash and walk away, I don’t trust him. We were cool as kids, but things changed over the years. He and Dirt each have their territory and their . . . specialty. They’ve managed to remain cordial somehow. But money is the root of all evil, and I’ve been witness to the ramifications of what happens when you don’t pay up one too many times. Or when they figure out you actually have something they want, which is money ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“I’m sorry; I guess I’m just naïve to all of this. What do you mean?” I feel like he’s a different person than the one I’ve come to love. The things he’s talking about and how he grew up—it seems impossible that he’d end up the kind of man he is. The way he took down that guy was something I never thought he was capable of, but I guess if you grew up the way he did, it’s not an option.
“When you grow up in poverty and are forced to spend time on the streets, it opens your eyes to the truly fucked-up world we live in.” He drops my hands and tucks his into the back pocket of his jeans. “I have to tell you something, but you cannot ever tell Kenny.”
My heart speeds up, and a trillion scenarios pop into my head in a matter of seconds. “Oh, my God. What?”
“Baby, promise me. You have to promise.”
“Just tell me.”
He shakes his head, and the right side of his mouth lifts. “I’m not telling you unless you promise.”
