by L. A. Fiore
“It’s on the MMA circuit, so it hosts fights every night.”
“That makes more sense.”
“I encouraged him to buy the place a few years back as an investment property. He’s got a manager running it, so it’s minimal work for him but it does bring in a steady income.”
“I’m happy he’s home.”
Silence followed for a second or two. “I’m sorry he didn’t tell you he was home.”
“That’s on him, not you.”
Anton didn’t press the point. “Let’s get lunch.”
“I would like that.”
Anton touched the small of my back while we maneuvered through the bodies to his private table. “The Angel Network Fundraiser is on Friday.”
It was a charity that had been near and dear to Dad. Every year he and Mom had organized the event, but it was too hard for her now. Uncle Guy and his wife Cherie took it over. “I know. I haven’t gone since…”
“It’s hard for all of you, but I’ve been going every year so the family is represented.”
It warmed my heart to know he thought of us as such because he was absolutely thought of as family by Mom, Cam and me. “You’re a good man, Anton.
“Only to those that matter.”
“I’d like to join you this year.
“You would?”
“You’ve been holding down the fort long enough.”
There was understanding and love in the smile he offered in reply. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
That night I couldn’t sleep; I just lay in bed staring at my ceiling. Damian Tate was home. Had been for four weeks with no call. It hurt that he was home and never contacted me. Maybe he had only been keeping in touch with Anton. He had been away a long time and had a business he was setting up, one that Anton was clearly helping him with. Maybe the slight wasn’t personal. I had to believe that because regardless of our relationship status, he was family.
I had pondered his kiss the night of Dad’s memorial and why he’d done it for a long time after and then I just let it be what it was, a perfect moment.
It would be an adjustment having Damian home. We weren’t the kids we had been but he still owned a piece of my heart. I still had the dream sometimes of us together, but it was just that, a dream, because had he still felt what I did, he would have called or visited in the fours week that he had been home. I would fall back on humor though; I had learned the beauty of humor after losing Dad and the debilitating sorrow that followed had eased. The power of a laugh, the finding appreciation in things we often take for granted. I wouldn’t focus on what I couldn’t have with him, but what I did have with him. We had a history and there was love there too, and that wasn’t a bad start to finding our way back as friends.
My cell rang, which had me looking at the clock. It was awfully late for a phone call. It was an unknown number and I thought to let it go into voice mail, but I was annoyed enough to give the caller a piece of my mind. “What!”
No answer and yet the line was open. It was late so that freaked me out. Instead of ranting as I intended, I hung up and blocked the number.
Exactly at seven on Friday, Anton arrived and a half an hour later we were pulling up in front of the New York Public Library where the charity fundraiser was held every year, sparking a pain in my chest remembering Dad. Silas, Anton’s driver, helped me from the car before Anton pulled my hand through his arm. We started up the steps to where Uncle Guy and his wife Cherie waited. Uncle Guy was a detective now, got his shield just last year around the same time Cam had. Dad would have been so proud.
“Thea.” Cherie hugged me, no air kiss on my cheek like the others in the crowd were doing.
Uncle Guy stepped in for his hug before his attention turned to Anton, his smile never fading. Anton was family. In the beginning, it had been awkward, to say the least, with Anton being who he was and a family of cops, but most of Anton’s businesses were now respectable. Not that he was a model citizen, but he knew how to play the game really well and he had us, his family, to keep him from going too far to the wrong side.
“Anton, nice to see you.”
“And you.”
We walked inside where formally dressed people milled around. Anton turned to me. “I’ll get drinks. Champagne ladies?”
“Yes please.”
“I’ll come with you,” Uncle Guy offered as the two headed for the bar.
“It’s been too long. How is everyone, how’s Trevor?” I asked.
“Trevor and Sara are having their first baby.”
“On my God. No way. I remember when he couldn’t tie his shoes. Congratulations. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s working on Wall Street.” She leaned in a little. “Between you and me, I am so glad he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. Worrying about Guy is bad enough, I couldn’t imagine worrying over Trevor too.”
“I hear that.”
“And you? I heard your graphic design business is really taking off.”
“It took some time, but I’ve got a great client list and I’m never without work. In fact, I’ve even gotten to the point that I have to turn some jobs down.”
“That’s wonderful. How’s your mom?”
“She’s taken up yoga.”
Cherie’s eyes widened. “Yoga? That seems…”
“Her trainer is twenty-four and gorgeous.”
“That’s more like it. And Cam?”
“Working nonstop, determined to single-handedly rid the city of crime.” A little melodramatic but it sure felt that way sometimes.
The wife of a cop, she understood. “That’s a little scary.”
“Yes it is.”
A blonde in a stunning silver dress approached. She looked more impressed with herself than what she saw. She didn’t excuse herself, just jumped right into the conversation. “Cherie, there are a few people you should meet.”
“Thea, Katrina Dobbs. Her husband Miguel is lead detective and Guy’s mentor. This is Edward Ahern’s daughter, Thea.” Dad had been lead detective and I was curious about Miguel, the man who now had my Dad’s job, because his wife was a douche.
Katrina gave me a once over and her smile wasn’t at all sincere before she said, “A pleasure.”
I didn’t reply and she didn’t wait for one as she started over to the local politicians to schmooze.
“She’s an acquired taste,” Cherie said. “It was so wonderful to see you.”
“And you. Please give Trevor my best.”
“And you, give Rosalie and Cam my love.”
“I will.”
Uncle Guy and Anton returned at the same time I spotted Uncle Tim. He saw me too when he changed directions and headed over. He had his entourage and looked like a man without a care in the world, but I remembered vividly the ugly confrontation with Chris McKay and how the encounter affected him. Uncle Tim would make a fantastic actor.
“Thea.”
“Uncle Tim.”
He pulled me close and squeezed just before he released me. “I’m happy to see you here.”
“It was time.”
There was understanding in his smile before his focus shifted to Uncle Guy. “Detective.”
A chill iced the air drawing my attention to Uncle Guy. And though he replied cordially there was definitely an edge to him that hadn’t been there only moments earlier. “Counselor.”
If Uncle Tim noticed Uncle Guy’s curt reply he ignored it and greeted Cherie. I glanced at Anton, who glanced back, both of us intrigued by the dynamic between the two men.
“It’s nice to see Edward’s family so well represented this evening,” Uncle Tim said as he shook Anton’s hand.
“Indeed,” Uncle Guy replied before he touched Cherie’s arm. “It was lovely seeing you, Thea, Anton. Please give Rosalie my love.”
“I will.”
It didn’t pass any of our notices that he hadn’t acknowledged Uncle Tim and Uncle Tim played it off when he smiled and yet I saw something
dark in his eyes as he followed Uncle Guy’s retreating form. A smile curved his lips though when he looked back at us.
“A man loses to you at poker and he’s never the same again.” Uncle Tim’s entourage chuckled at his attempt to lighten the mood. One of his men whispered in his ear.
“I’m being told I need to mingle. Enjoy your evening. I’m really happy you’re here.” He held his hand out to Anton. “Have a good evening.”
And then he was gone, lost in the crowd that surrounded him.
“What do you think that was all about?” I had never seen the two of them being so cool and distant. It was unsettling to say the least.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t about poker.”
“I wonder if Mom knows.”
“I always had the sense your Dad was the glue that kept the three of them together.”
I hadn’t really thought about it growing up. If Uncle Guy was around so was Uncle Tim, but Dad and Uncle Tim were childhood friends and Uncle Guy his partner so yeah, maybe it really had been Dad keeping that friendship going. That was kind of sad. They both had lost a dear friend; they should be looking to each other to help ease that loss.
Anton pulled me from those thoughts when he flashed me a smile. “Alright let’s rub some elbows and then get out of here. I have someone’s ass to beat at Pac-Man.”
“Dream on.”
“Damian’s home.”
Kimber almost dropped the bagel she was smearing cream cheese on. We were having breakfast at Cup of Joe, something we tried to do at least once a week. Ryder joined us, a perk of being the boss. “He is?”
“Yeah.”
The way they looked at each other and then at me and back again was like something out of a sitcom. “Since when?” Ryder asked.
“A month.”
“And we’re just learning of this now?” Kimber had a wicked evil eye.
“I just learned of it.”
“He’s home, Thea. You’re both living on the same continent now.” Ryder was a hopeless romantic.
“It’s been a long time, lots of water under the bridge. We’re different people. I’m happy he’s home, but don’t start planning a wedding.”
“Maybe you’ll discover you’re not that different.” Ryder and I both just stared at Kimber because it wasn’t like her to be so optimistic.
“Where did that come from?” Ryder took the words right out of my mouth.
“I’ve never been in love but I have to believe it doesn’t give up without a fight.”
Who knew that Kimber was also a romantic, and I really liked her take on the situation, quite a lot.
Ryder changed the subject. “So we’re taking Mom to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yes. To Dahlia’s and then Opal.”
“Are the guys joining us?”
“No. Cam has work and Anton has a meeting, but he did reserve us a table.”
Kimber flashed me a smile. “No line…awesome.”
The night out with Mom had been a blast. I was home and getting ready for bed, but I was feeling edgy and Damian Tate was the reason. He was home. Anton had mentioned his gym hosted fights every night, which meant it was likely still open. It was kind of late, so heading to an MMA fight on my own was a bit reckless, but I couldn’t settle. The sensation similar to when you’re vacillating over the purchase of a ridiculous pair of shoes that you adore but the price tag stops your heart, but you make the decision that you have to have them. You want it done, you don’t want to wait, you want those beauties on your feet and in your closet. I could pop in, check him out and leave and he never needed to know I was there. In and out, what could go wrong?
I liked that he had chosen the old neighborhood to set up his gym. The cab pulled up to the curb in front of his place and based on the look of the outside, I was very surprised by the number of people squeezed into it. The cage was upfront; the opponents engaging in bare knuckle MMA. It seemed fitting that Damian was a part of this culture since he had spent so much of his youth participating in fight clubs that were far less civilized than this. I remembered Damian that night I had seen him fight. He had been methodical, calculating and cold. He had destroyed his opponent but he wasn’t fighting the flesh and blood, he was battling whatever haunted him. Had he finally made peace with that?
This fight didn’t look as primitive, but it was a raw sport; the testosterone and pheromone levels in the room were off the charts. I sought Damian in the crowd, he was tall so he wouldn’t be hard to locate. It took a while before I saw him coming from the back, talking to someone—likely the manager of one of the fighters. I felt him, like a moth to a flame. It was him because of how my body reacted to him, but he was different...no longer the boy I knew but a man. He was home, within reach and I wanted so badly to push my way through the crowd to get to him, but I didn’t. My feet wouldn’t move because I feared how he would react, feared he wouldn’t be as happy to see me as I was him. We waited so long to be here, and now we were and I couldn’t get my damn feet to move. So instead of going to the one person I wanted more than breath, I held back and just stared my fill. He looked good, really good, and that body after years of military training had been crafted into a work of art.
All those old feelings were there, but they were mellowed…like slipping into a favorite pair of slippers. The memory of the first time I had visited him on fight night teased the corners of my mind. The memory bringing a smile and it also had me turning for the door because if he caught me he would likely be just as pissed now as he had been then.
Distracted, I walked right into someone—a man in his thirties, wearing a suit but he’d removed his tie and unbuttoned a few buttons. Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes and a long, lanky body…he was cute if you were into the mature frat boy look. There was a smile on his face, but it was a lascivious smile that had me itching to cover myself from his view. “Sorry. Excuse me.”
“Where’s the fire?” He moved to block my exit, which just irritated me. Why did some men assume they could get up in your face because they wanted to? And this dude was drunk or high so this wasn’t personal. I was a female and alone which made me easy pickings. I needed to get a t-shirt made up, something like, ‘Yeah you, fuck off’.
“You can’t walk into a man looking like you do and not at least give your name.”
My skin crawled. “I didn’t see you.”
“You see me now. What’s your name?”
“I’d like to get by please.”
“So proper.” He gave me a look that had bile rushing up my throat. “I think I’d like to hear you say please in a few different contexts.”
I moved around him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “A name.”
“Get the fuck off me.”
“I just want a name.”
“Now.” I had learned self-defense, my dad and Cam had insisted. I could take this clown out with little effort, particularly since he was not in his right mind. I didn’t really want to make a scene, drawing attention to myself, more specifically drawing Damian’s attention.
Before I could formulate my next move, a deep and raspy voice came from over my shoulder. A voice I remembered, a voice I heard sometimes in my dreams. My body broke out in chills as my heart tripled its speed. “Fuck off.”
In super slow motion I looked behind me to find Damian standing menacingly over me like some avenging angel, and though his glower wasn’t directed at me at the moment, it would be after he dealt with the jackass still trying to get my name. I didn’t even look back at the drunk because I was mesmerized at the sight of Damian. The years had been good to him, freaking fantastic, but at the moment he looked about as approachable as a rattlesnake.
“I saw her first, man.”
“You’re leaving here on a fucking gurney if I have to say it again.”
The man released my arm and leveled a glare over my head then one at me before he turned and stumbled away. I felt another hand on my arm, gentler but still firm, as I was pulled across t
he room to the office in the back. The door had only just closed behind him when I turned and looked up into Damian’s furious face. It was a beautiful face though, even more so now with the signs of living etched here and there. He didn’t say anything, just gave a withering stare that had me breaking out into a sweat. He moved closer so that I could actually feel the anger coming off him. “What was that?”
Yes the feelings for him had mellowed and still it felt like my blood ignited and his voice was the match. It had been two years since Dad’s funeral, the last time I had seen Damian, so his greeting was anticlimactic to say the least. “A drunk who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.”
“Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“At this hour?”
I supposed there was comfort in the fact that time didn’t change some things, namely the overprotective nature of the men in my life. “I don’t really need to answer that, right?”
“Thea.” I had never heard my name said in quite that way before, an expletive.
“Damian.”
“Why are you here?”
“Really? You have to ask that? You’re home. I was curious.”
He had a thought on that because the harsh lines of his face smoothed out some. And still he asked, “At one in the morning.”
It wasn’t one in the morning when I arrived. Sharing that seemed like a bad idea too. “Is that all you have to say to me? I haven’t seen you in years, my timing could be better I agree, but I would have thought you would have more to say than a few curt words and a glower, though it is a respectable glower you’ve got there.”
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rolled back on his heels as he let his eyes wander down my body. “I’m still processing you standing in my office.”
What did that mean? I waited for him to clarify, but he didn’t and instead said, “I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I’ll get a cab.” The words were out before I appreciated what I said. I wanted him to drive me home, but it was a knee-jerk answer because my brain was still trying to decipher his cryptic comment.
