Fools Rush In

by Lilliana Anderson

  “Never.” His response was so fast that I was sure killing would never be a part of his job description. I felt glad over that. I’d witnessed too many sorrow-filled loved ones at funerals over the years. The people who were taken suddenly and violently were always the worst.

  “Have you ever seen a dead body before?”

  “A couple of drownings at the beach but never close up. Nothing like you would’ve seen.”

  “Do you find that odd about me?” I asked. My job had always been a fantastic man repellent.

  “Well, I think we’ve already established that you’re a little odd.” He tapped me on the nose, then added, “In the best possible way.”

  “You’re the one who married a stranger because your mum told you to. If I’m odd, then what does that make you?”

  He smiled. “Completely mental. A little spontaneous.”

  “You weren’t nervous about going through with it?”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  I scrunched my nose. “You were kind of drunk.”

  “A better man might apologise for that,” he said.

  “But you’re a Cartwright so you won’t.”

  He grinned. “You’re catching on quick. But yes, I was nervous and I hit the liquid courage a little too hard. Nate and I both did. It was a lot to take in. One day he’s playing a game of cat and mouse with a girl he was into, and the next everything blew up in our faces and we needed to marry that girl and her friend to save them. We might be criminals, but we have hearts.”

  “What made Jasmine decide death or marriage was the only answer?”

  “I don’t fucking know. Women’s logic, I guess.”

  “That would mean I’d understand it.”

  He chuckled and rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. “I wasn’t part of the conversation, only the result. But from what I gathered, Nate was the one who brought up the marriage idea.”

  “So it was a ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ kind of deal?”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t seem convinced, and I had a moment where I felt that Sam was just as lost as I was, always going along with choices that weren’t his. Would he be the one who would look around one day and not want me anymore? Or would he always do what he was told out of loyalty? He seemed very loyal.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your family,” he said after a moment of quiet, obviously tired of talking about his own.

  I sighed. “There isn’t a whole lot to tell. There’s my dad—he’s a funeral director. He’s incredibly devout and believes that all lessons in life can be learned from scripture, and that as long as we have the Bible in our lives, we don’t need anything else. There’s my brother. He’s the golden child who married his high school sweetheart and followed my dad into the family business by becoming an embalmer. He has two perfect children on top of that. My mother, well, she’s a whole other story. Dad says I take after her. Possibly because I’ve always pushed boundaries as far as he was concerned. Mum left us when I was ten. I guess marriage and children weren’t for her, but opiates were, so at least she found her calling.” I gave him a broad smile, even though her leaving was something that pained me greatly. Because of her abandonment, my father became ten times stricter. I wasn’t allowed to go to parties, couldn’t talk to boys, or have any semblance of freedom. I had to sneak around and lie just to have even a snippet of fun. Holland was always my partner in crime, ready with the perfect cover story to feed my father. I’d have had no life growing up without her creativity.

  “Your mum’s an addict?”

  I nodded. “Didn’t guess that about me, did you? I’ve pretty much been under lock and key ever since she left. Dad is petrified that I’m going to do the same thing. He even chose my career path. I wanted to do beauty, so he organised a job for me at my uncle’s mortuary with them, doing make-up for open casket funerals. That way he could keep an eye on me.”

  “I hear there’s quite an art to making them look peaceful.”

  “There is. I basically have to recreate their expressions from photos, like a painting on an uneven surface. People look very different when their spark is gone.” I met his eyes, impressed that he even knew.

  “I’ll bet you’re really good at it. I see you excelling at everything you try to do.”

  The comment seemed honest enough, but it made me uncomfortable nonetheless. I didn’t think I had ever excelled at anything in my life. I wasn’t even second best at anything. I dropped my head and let my shoulder-length hair fall over my eyes. Then I took a breath and brushed it all back before looking at him again. The movement acted as a curtain being drawn and then pulled back to reset the scene—aka my emotions, my mask. Then I was smiling again.

  “Why don’t you tell me more about your family?” I suggested.

  “What’s there to say that you don’t already know? There are five of us. We’re all in our thirties, still act like we’re in our twenties. And we steal shit. Pretty much sums it up.”

  “I doubt that’s all there is to it. For instance, how did you become thieves in the first place? Jasmine is your mother, but where’s your father? Is he still around? Do you all have the same father?”

  “We have the same father. He’s currently serving a life sentence or two in the state’s maximum security facility.”

  “A life sentence? Was that from stealing or doing something much worse?”

  “A job went bad and people died. But he started out like us, got Jasmine into this life. As we grew, she got us into it. It’s the family business.”

  The family business. Did that mean I’d have to become a thief too?

  “Do you like it?”

  “Stealing?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I know, what I’m good at. Do you like putting make-up on dead people?”

  I shrugged. “It’s what I know, what I’m good at.” He caught my gaze and we both smiled.

  “Ever wish you could run away and start all over again?” he asked.

  I considered him for a while before giving my answer. “I’m pretty sure I just did.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just moved from one controlling family to another.”

  Maybe.

  “Ever wish you could run away and start again?”

  He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. “All the damn time.” His honesty made my heart stop.

  “Can I ask you a favour?”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you do decide to run, will you take me with you? You can drop me off somewhere random, but just make sure you take me. I don’t want to be left behind to die.”

  His eyes moved from left to right, studying me, while thoughts I could only guess at ran through his mind. Then he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Cartwrights don’t run, even when we feel like it. We also don’t leave people behind. I promise to protect you, Alesha. You’re mine now. That makes you one of us.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant to be one of them. It seemed like there were a lot of rules. But with Sam by my side, making me feel as amazing as he had already and offering me his loyalty, I figured I’d be just fine with the rules.

  Lucky I was really good at doing what I was told.

  Chapter Eight

  I Get It Now

  “Toby.” Jasmine immediately wrapped her arms around her oldest son’s neck when he met us at the door of the Cartwright house in Torquay. It was this massive white-rendered two-storey home situated on a secluded slice of land just outside the city centre. There was a swimming pool, a tennis court and a three-car garage beside the main house facing the curved driveway. The gardens were all immaculately maintained, the trees surrounding the property tall. The entire thing screamed money and a desire for privacy. You could probably wander around outside naked and no one would be able to see you beyond the thick trees and bush.

  “How was the trip?” The question was directed at her, but his eyes found me a
nd then searched the remaining faces. His expression told me he came up empty. Looking for Nate, perhaps? None of us had seen him since the outburst at the hotel, and we hadn’t seen Holland since the wedding. Jasmine said they’d flown back early and were probably at Nate’s house. Everyone else seemed fine with that, but I was worried. She had been so scared and upset before the wedding, and I wished I’d had a little time with her afterwards to find out how she was feeling now.

  “Worse than expected,” Jasmine announced, sauntering into the house after handing Toby her bag. He frowned, then rolled his eyes.

  “The surf was good,” Abbot teased, slapping his big brother on the back as he walked past.

  “So was the fishing.” Kristian followed, slapping Toby on the opposite shoulder.

  Toby shook his head in response. I assumed surfing and fishing were two of his favourite things.

  “How were things here?” Sam asked, lugging our bags through the door on one arm.

  Toby shrugged. “Quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Good.”

  “And how about you?” Toby’s clear blue eyes landed on me. I wasn’t sure what to think of him. Out of all the brothers, I’d had the least interactions with him. While he shared in their good looks and oversized build, he seemed a little more intense than the rest; he studied his surroundings more and stayed quiet in the noise of the house. I felt that Jasmine was the closest to him and trusted him most. I wondered if that meant I should be more careful around him, or if it meant that I could trust him too. Time would tell.

  “What about me?”

  “How are you?”

  A nervous feeling fluttered about in my stomach. Did he seriously want to know, or was he asking in a general way to be polite?

  “I—”

  “She’s fine.” Sam’s arm slipped around my waist, and he guided me through the door ahead of him. I guess I’m fine. He gave me a little nudge so I stepped in ahead while he stopped and spoke quietly to Toby.

  I heard Toby ask about the damage to the twins’ faces and the mention of both Nate’s and Holland’s names.

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” Sam said, obviously not wanting me listening in to whatever he wanted to say. I took a quick look around and headed in the direction I recalled walking the last time I was here—the day Holland and I trespassed on their property and got caught. The day my life completely changed.

  Everything felt different now that I knew I wasn’t allowed to leave. Not horrible, just different. I hadn’t seen my father in almost a week, hadn’t received a lecture on the way I conducted myself, or been made to feel that I wasn’t living up to my potential. Here, I didn’t feel like I was a lost cause. So yeah, I felt different, better, and I didn’t want to go back to what I was before, even if I could.

  “Coffee’s brewing,” Jasmine said as I entered. She was pulling mugs out of a cupboard and lining them up along the counter. “How do you take yours?”

  “White with two sugars, please.”

  She took out an extra cup and placed it on the end of the line before she met my eyes and smiled. “Same as me.”

  Not thinking the comment needed much of a response, I simply smiled in return, then headed to the fridge and got the milk to make myself useful. I was never good at sitting still. When I was young, my mother used to say I had ants in my pants. We would laugh and she would tickle me, telling me she was trying to tickle my sillies out. Life was so much better when she was around, and I’d missed her every day since she left.

  Sometimes I thought I saw her in a crowd. Of course, it was never her, though after twenty-two years and only a child’s memory of her face, I didn’t think I’d recognise her if she was standing right in front of me. Actually, I didn’t even think that would be a possibility. I had a feeling that my mother died long ago and my father just never told us. Possibly to protect us, possibly because he couldn’t face it himself. Either way, I still wondered about her.

  The coffee percolator hissed and gurgled, spitting out the last of the coloured liquid into the pot. Jasmine finished adding sugar to each cup, then filled them all with coffee. I uncapped the milk and followed along behind her, the only words exchanged when she told me that Toby preferred his black.

  One by one, the Cartwright brothers filed into the kitchen, picking up their mugs without having to ask which one was theirs before disappearing into various corners of the house, obviously intent on relaxing after travelling all day. Sam stood next to me and hooked one finger into the belt loop of my jeans, holding me in place. It was such a subtle thing to do, but I loved the possessiveness of the action. It made me feel like he wanted me.

  “Elixir of the gods,” Sam moaned after he’d taken his first sip. “I really needed caffeine.”

  “I think we all did,” Jasmine added. “Remind me the next time we book a holiday that I hate travelling.”

  “Sure thing.” He chuckled, watching her over the edge of his mug as she picked up some mail and left the room. Then he set his mug down and turned to me. “Want to see my room?”

  A smile crept across my face. “That depends. Do you have any cool toys in there?” The moment I said it, I realised how it could be taken and blushed. “I meant, like, action figures and stuff. It was supposed to be a joke.”

  He lifted his hand and ran his thumb lightly over my cheek. “I’m sure I can find something in there that will interest you.”

  Taking my barely drunk coffee out of my hands, he set it on the bench next to his, then led me up the grand staircase to the room across from the guest room I’d stayed in on my first night here. He’d slept in there with me but on the floor, kind of blocking the door. I didn’t sleep much that night.

  When he pushed the door open, I found myself in a large room painted a soft grey with white edging. The carpet was thick and a darker grey than the walls, and there was more furniture than one room should really have—a king-size bed, a desk and chair, two bookcases and a TV unit dominated by an LCD TV and a couple of gaming consoles. There were posters of surfers on the walls, a couple of women with enormous tits and round arses looking sexy on the beach or holding a surfboard as well. Besides that, there was one really beautiful framed photo of five kids standing at the edge of the surf, looking out to the setting sun. I couldn’t make out any features because the boys were silhouetted, but I figured it was Sam and his brothers. It was the prettiest part of the whole room.

  “So, I guess you really like surfing,” I said, pointing out a poster featuring a curvaceous brunette arching her back while lying on a surfboard.

  He followed my gaze. “Shit. I should probably take that down.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said, closing up a little. Those posters made me feel inadequate. I didn’t look anything like those women. “It’s your room. You can have whatever you want on your walls.”

  “Well, it’s your room too, now.” He moved around the room and tore down all the busty women, scrunching the shiny paper in his hands. “And this shit really doesn’t need to be here anymore. They’ve seriously been up since high school.”

  “You’ve kept your room the same since high school?”

  “Not really. I haven’t always lived here. But my room has always stayed the same, and sometimes it’s just easier to stay at the house.”

  “You have your own place?”

  He tore down the surfing posters too, anything that wasn’t in a frame.

  “Not exactly. Toby and Nate are really the only ones with property of their own. The rest of us kind of share the family portfolio when it suits.”

  “So we’ll be living here with the rest of the family?” Their house seemed like it was always busy and noisy. I wasn’t sure if I’d like that or if I’d crave the peace and quiet I was used to. I’d been on my own for a long time.

  “Yeah, we’re staying here.” He looked around the room to make sure he had all the posters, then tossed them into a wastepaper basket. He moved to stand in front of me and took a hold o
f my hands. “Maybe we can redecorate.”

  I took a deep breath and looked around. This was my new home. We were in our thirties and living with his family like we were all in our teens. OK. I could deal with that. If Sam kept looking at me like he wanted to undress me, I could probably handle anything.

  We’d had a wonderful few days in the Cook Islands, and I was feeling a little high on sex and pheromones. Still, my married life was beginning in what still looked like a teenage boy’s bedroom. “Can I paint the walls pink and get a sequinned bedspread with fluffy pillows?” I asked, keeping my voice serious.

  His eyes widened, and he blew out a burst of air as he struggled to maintain an impassive expression. “If that’s what you really need to feel comfortable,” he said diplomatically.

  “I don’t want pink walls and sequins, Sam.” I laughed. The fact that he’d actually agreed to that really warmed my heart.

  A relieved sigh caused the tension to leave his shoulders. “Thank God.”

  “And I don’t particularly want to change your room.” I looked around again. It was a large room, but if it was going to be the place we spent most of our time in, it might get a little cramped. “You know, if there’s some reason we can’t stay in a place of our own, I have a whole house we could live in.”

  “There’s no reason. It just works better when we’re all here.” His response was quick and clipped. It gave me the impression that there was more to it than convenience—like maybe we had to stay here because of me. That made sense, when you broke it down, I wasn’t exactly a free woman. I was living in a glorified prison, and I needed to remember that. Sam might say that I’m a Cartwright now, but I had no doubt that my existence within the family would be tenuous until I somehow proved my worth.

  “OK, then I do want to change it a bit, but only condense it so some of my stuff can fit in here. We can go and get some of my stuff, can’t we?”

  “Of course. I’ll take you tomorrow. We can pack up all your clothes and whatever you feel you can’t live without. Then we’ll work out how to fit it all in here.”