by Robin Kaye
“I know. I remember. I watched him throw her into a wall like a fuckin’ rag doll before he shot me. Then he shot her. She got herself killed protecting me.” Slater couldn’t sit there any longer. Storm and Logan were looking at him and he wondered if they saw more than just his mother in him. He had his father’s eyes. Those fucking crazy eyes. He picked up his empty glass and poured them all drinks. Storm and Logan looked like they needed a belt almost as bad as he did.
He put their drinks in front of them and paced. He needed to move.
Logan stood and watched him. “Why didn’t you come home when you left the hospital?” He looked hurt.
“Why the hell do you think? My father was a murderer, he was nuts—believe me. I saw him in action. The man was a monster.”
Storm stood and blocked his path. “Yeah, we get that, but we don’t get why you didn’t come home?”
Slater smashed his glass down on the dresser. “Are you both stupid?” God, the Hummer was parked on his chest again. “Do you really want me spending time with Nicki?” Just the thought that he could hurt her—he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to picture her face looking up at him. She was so damn small. She was so damn trusting. She was so damn special. God, he missed her.
He walked right up to Storm and got in his face. “Do you want me around your wife?” He gave him a shove and Storm shoved him back. “Think about it. Do you trust me around Bree?”
He spun around and shoved Logan too. “What about you? Do you trust me with Skye? And what about Rocki? Do you want to take the chance that Rocki could end up just like my mother? I sure as hell don’t. I left because I love them. I left because I want them to be safe. I left because they’ll never be safe with me.” His legs didn’t feel as if they’d hold him up much longer and he sat on the bed.
He hadn’t slept, he’d been afraid to close his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with the nightmares; his day terrors were bad enough. He rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his palms against his eyes. Shit, he was crying. Crying in front of his brothers was the last thing he wanted to do. He still hadn’t recovered from the humiliation of breaking down in front of Rocki.
The bed dipped. “Shit, that’s gotta suck.” Storm’s arm came around his shoulders.
Slater almost jumped out of his skin.
The bed dipped again and Logan threw his arm around him too. “What the hell ever gave you the idea you could hurt them?”
Blood pounded through Slater’s temple and his head felt like a pressure cooker. Any moment he was going to blow. The only release was the tears raining down his cheeks. He took several deep breaths but he couldn’t exhale enough and his lungs felt like overfilled balloons. “It was in the file. I almost killed one of my foster fathers. I wanted to. It took two men to pull me off him, and that’s when I was nine and skinny. I lost it. I was out of control. I was my father. It scared the shit out of me.”
“You were protecting your foster sister. Just like your mother protected you. Don’t you think your mother would have killed that bastard if she could have? She gave her life for you—she’d have taken his if she were able.”
Slater felt Logan’s hand grab the back of his neck and squeeze. “You’re nothing like him; you’re like your mother. You’re protective. I trust you with my life and the lives of everyone I love.”
Storm cleared his throat and moved, shaking the bed. “You need to pull yourself together. You need to look at this.”
Slater wiped his eyes on his sleeve. When he opened them, that damn note was in front of his face. He couldn’t see through the tears that just kept on coming.
“That asshole thought he owned you and your mother. You were nothing more than possessions to him. When he lost his company, he couldn’t live with the embarrassment, so he planned his suicide. He wanted to possess you and your mother—even in death.”
“So?”
“So, you’re willing to leave the two people you love most in the world just to protect them. You’re willing to give up everything. You’re willing to give up your family, all of us, and the only woman you ever loved. You’re willing to give up your own daughter just to ensure her happiness.”
“Of course I am.”
“You’re an idiot—you know that?” Storm got off the bed. “Logan, explain it to him. You might want to speak slowly.”
Logan gave Slater’s neck another squeeze. “Does this mean we don’t get to beat him?”
“What do you think?”
He stood and blew out a breath. “Okay, listen, and listen good because I’m only going to say this once.”
“Slater, look at me, bro.”
Shit. He wiped his face on his sweatshirt. “I’m looking.”
“You’re nothing like your father—but you’re exactly like your mother. Think about it. The only time you’ve ever beat on anyone was to protect someone else. I remember talking to you after you took out that asswipe who was trying to rape a girl outside some bar. You beat the piss out of him.”
“So, anyone would have done the same thing.”
“Anyone with a shred of conscience. Anyone who respected women, and was protective of them. That monster was possessive—if he couldn’t have you and your mom, no one could. If you were anything like him, you’d never be willing to give up Rocki or Nicki. So you have nothing to worry about. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“I spent six years of my life living with you. And the only time I saw you even come close to losing your temper was that time you took on three guys twice your size to save a dog they were abusing. They beat the snot out of us, but you were more concerned with the dog, remember? You’re your mother’s son, Slater. Your mother’s and Pop’s. He raised you. He’s your father, just like he’s mine and Storm’s.”
Storm kicked Slater’s boot. “And we’re your brothers. I trust both of you with my life, and the lives of everyone in the family. You’d sooner cut your own arm off than hurt any one of us. We love you, Slater.” Storm’s cheeks turned bright red. “In a totally brotherly kind a way.”
Logan cleared his throat and then punched Slater’s arm. Hard. He really did have a hell of a punch. “Yeah, what Storm said. Just don’t make Skye cry again or all bets are off.”
Slater looked up at his brothers and shook his head. They wore matching you’re-such-a-dumb-ass grins. He rolled it around in his mind. He tried to look at it logically; he tried to look at only the evidence. He sifted through his memories, trying to remember ever coming close to losing it, to remember if he ever had that out-of-control feeling any other time. No, he hadn’t. Just once on the phone with Storm—but it was then he’d remembered the monster’s face. He’d seen a flash of the night of the murder. Just thinking about it had all the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up and kicking his heartbeat to the danger zone. Damn. “You really think so?” He sounded like a freakin’ pussy.
Storm coughed. “Yeah. Logan, we might just have to beat the shit out of him.” He started rolling up his sleeves.
Slater stood. “No, I’m good. I just . . . need time to think about it.”
Logan shot Storm a what-are-ya-gonna-do look.
Storm shrugged. “You’re not gonna do anything stupid, are you?”
“No. I just need to digest this. It’s a lot to take in.”
They both picked up their bottles and left his. Logan grabbed his coat. “Okay. We’re right next door if you need to talk.”
“You got a room?”
Storm laughed. “Shit, yeah, we did. Do you think for even one minute that we’d leave you alone to deal with this emotional clusterfuck? Besides, it’s purely selfish. We need to keep you around. It’s been hell having to deal with Pop all on our own. We’re just trying to spread around the love. Thirty-three percent of Pop’s attention is a hell of a lot better than fifty.”
Logan gru
nted. “Damn straight.”
They each hugged him and did their best to break a rib while slapping his back. God, they were such asses. He loved them, but shit. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up bruised.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks, guys.”
Slater put the note back in the file where he didn’t have to look at it again. He’d seen enough of that to last him a lifetime. He kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed, holding the bottle in one hand and his mother’s picture in the other. Nicki really did look a hell of a lot like her grandmother. He wished his momma could see her.
• • •
Rocki stepped into Logan and Skye’s apartment across the hall from Pete’s without so much as a knock. She was expected, and yes, the gang was all there—Patrice, Skye, and Bree. “Where are the guys? Downstairs?” She plopped down on the couch, kicked off her heels, and tucked her feet under her.
Bree shoved a wineglass at her. “You look as if you could use this—unless you want something stronger.”
“No, but thanks. I’ve been off my feed since yesterday—wine is about as strong as I can take on an empty stomach.”
Bree joined her on the couch. “The guys are MIA, except for Francis—he’s got rug rat duty. Where’s Slater?”
Rocki took a long drink of cold, crisp white wine—their wine selection had certainly improved since Logan had shown up. Where was Slater? She wished she knew. It was as if he disappeared into thin air. “I don’t have a clue. Pete said he’s okay, but wouldn’t tell me any more than that.”
Skye shook her head. “Logan took off out of here like he had fire ants in his pants and was running for the water.”
Patrice did her hair-over-the-shoulder toss and wrinkled her nose. “When I asked Francis to watch the girls, he didn’t say boo. He must have known the guys wouldn’t be here. They’re up to something. Not that Francis would give me a hard time, Lord knows. I’m on momma duty full-time when he’s on his shifts, but there wasn’t even a groan; it was as if he knew I had to be here.”
Bree laughed. “Either that or he was afraid of sleeping on the couch again.”
Patrice sniffed as if she smelled something vile. “You’re just jealous you don’t have your man as well trained, but don’t worry. It takes time and constant conditioning.”
“Oh God, here we go again.” Skye picked up her soda and took a drink as if she needed help getting through Patrice’s lecture.
Rocki tuned out Patrice—she’d heard it all before—and watched Skye. She hadn’t seen much of Skye since she and Logan came back from California—the girl was positively glowing. She was as sparkly as that diamond she wore.
Skye took another sip of soda. She probably hadn’t had alcohol since Rocki and Patrice’s unfortunate fact-finding mission. Get the girl drunk one time and she turns into a teetotaler. They’d certainly got the goods—interesting X-rated goods—and left Logan to deal with the cleanup. Logan, however, had yet to forgive them. The man could certainly hold a grudge. So they didn’t take Skye’s petite size into consideration when plying her with Logan’s champagne. It wasn’t as if they’d done it on purpose . . . well, not totally on purpose.
Patrice snapped her fingers in front of Rocki’s face and made her jump.
“Do you mind? So I drifted. Sue me. What the hell do you expect? I’m worried sick. Okay? I mean, you didn’t see Slater. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so, so . . . haunted. And he kicked me out—”
Bree moved closer and pulled her into a hug. “He didn’t kick you out, he just needed some space.”
“Yeah. Then he disappears. How much space does he need?”
“He didn’t go far.”
“How the hell do you know? He could be in Bah-fuckin’-rain for all we know.”
Bree pulled away and raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s like this. Storm and Logan both disappeared so you know the three musketeers are together.”
Rocki shrugged. “Okay, that makes sense. So they wouldn’t run off to Bahrain.”
“And”—Bree shrugged—“I LoJacked Storm’s phone. . . . All I have to do is pull up the app, and I’ll know exactly where he is—within fifty feet and, therefore, we’ll know where Slater and Logan are too.”
Rocki let out a laugh, probably the first since Nicki took a dip in the lake. “I love you, Bree. I love every evil inch of you.”
“Hey, I prefer to think of myself as slightly wicked. And believe me, Storm appreciates my wicked tendencies.”
Patrice laughed. “Girlfriend, turn that thing on and let’s find out where they are. Then we can plan our attack.”
CHAPTER 23
It took a minute for Slater to figure out that the knocking was coming from the door and not the inside of his skull. The knocking amplified the pain—not good. He loved his brothers, he really did. And he’d never loved them more than today—or was it yesterday? But all the love in the world didn’t keep him from wanting to kick their collective asses.
He laid the picture of his mother he’d fallen asleep with on the bedside table, pulled on his jeans, and opened the door as fast as he could, hoping one of them would be leaning against it and end up on the floor.
“Rocki?” Slater shook his head to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. When she didn’t disappear, he swallowed hard and almost choked.
She stood wide-eyed, staring at him. Man, her eyes were big to begin with, but when she looked at him like that, they were huge, and total backbone breakers.
He cleared his throat, or tried to. “Rocki? What are you doing here?”
She fooled with the hem of the sweatshirt she wore—one of his—and with the cuffs all rolled up, it hung to midthigh.
“Did Pop tell you where I was?”
“No.” She slipped through the door.
He didn’t stop her; he couldn’t if he’d wanted to, the look in her eyes just about gutted him.
“Pete didn’t tell me anything. I know someone who LoJacked her husband’s phone. She’s just a little bit evil, but her husband seems to like that about her. Go figure.”
“Storm and Logan are next door.”
Rocki kicked off her shoes and sat on his bed. “We know. Jerry Schmidt, he’s a regular.”
“Not surprising.” Slater sat beside her and watched, not sure where all this was going. “Between Bree and Patrice, they know everyone who’s anyone.”
Rocki took a deep breath and tucked her hands under her legs. “Sl—”
“Roc—”
They spoke at the same time.
Rocki looked relieved. “You go first.”
He shook his head and regretted the movement. “No, you go ahead.”
She bit her lip, which just made him want to kiss her. She really did have one hell of a mouth. “I didn’t come to bug you. I understand that you need time.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rocki jumped off the bed. “Let me finish. Don’t say anything. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
The thought of her leaving had his stomach visiting his toes. “What if I don’t want to be left alone?”
“If you didn’t want to be alone, why the hell did you come here?”
“I wanted to be alone when I came.” Now he didn’t know what the hell was going on. All he wanted to do was hold her. He caught her by the waist and pulled her toward the bed, so she stood between his splayed legs and rested his forehead against her.
“Has that changed?” Her hands cupped his head, her fingers threaded through his too long hair.
He didn’t know. God, he couldn’t afford to be wrong about this. He squeezed his eyes shut, not sure what to say. “You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”
“It was with Nicki’s things when we brought her home from the hospital. It smells like you.”
Damn, what the hell kind of father was he? He didn’t t
hink to ask about Nicki until Rocki mentioned her. “Is Nicki okay?” He didn’t want to look at Rocki; he might not have been able to feel shame before, but he sure as hell felt it now. Heat shot up his neck like a geyser. What kind of father ran away from his own child? What must Rocki think of him?
“She’s afraid that you left because she fell through the ice. I told her it wasn’t about her, but she’s a kid. They think everything is about them.”
“Damn.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt you, but I hurt you both. I wanted to protect you. That’s why I left.”
“Protect us from what?”
“From me.”
Rocki’s fingers tensed in his hair and she pulled his head back so he had to either look her in the eye or risk going bald. “What the hell are you talking about? Explain, dammit.”
He’d seen Rocki pissed, and tonight there were sparks shooting out of her eyes without the aid of a fireplace. Yeah, that was all her. God, he loved her.
“I remembered everything . . . I was afraid that . . . no, I was terrified that something in me could snap, and I’d turn into a monster and end up hurting you and Nicki, and not just your feelings. I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
“Because of your birth father?”
“It’s not that much of a stretch, Rocki.”
“It’s ludicrous.”
“How do you know?”
“Because”—she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him—“I know you.” Rocki walked her hands up his chest. “I’ve watched you.” She kissed his scar, nuzzled his neck, and stretched out on him. “I’ve slept with you. I’ve seen how protective you are of both Nicki and me. When you had that nightmare, you rolled over me like you were protecting me from whatever it was you dreamed about.”
“I dreamed of him.” He wrapped his arms around her and held on to her like she was some kind of security blanket. God, he was a grown man, and was talking to his girlfriend about nightmares.
“I know you did. I’m sorry. But what you have to remember is your first thought was to protect me. You saved Nicki’s life. You’d have gone in after her and done whatever it took to make sure she was okay. Heck, the first day I met you, you insisted on taking me home to make sure I was safe. You just don’t have it in you to hurt anyone.”
