by L. A. Fiore
The house, the way he mourned her, the affection…I did. I thought he had married someone else and the idea of that shattered me.
He pressed my face to his chest and held me so tightly. “It has only ever been you.” The floodgates opened. Happy tears, sad tears, I cried for Damian and his sister, I cried for losing all the years I had with him, I even cried for my dad. He carried me back inside and settled on the sofa with me in his lap. He said nothing, just let me cry it all out and with the tears the vice that had been squeezing my heart eased and all the while he watched me with those beautiful eyes.
In a whisper, I said, “I thought you were married and I can’t even describe how it…”
“I didn’t need words, your expression said it all.” He touched my chin. “It has always been you.”
“For me too.”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “I know.”
“You had a sister?”
“Half sister. She lived for a time with my dad growing up, but sought me out when she learned of me.”
“Your father never told her she had a brother?”
Pain moved over his face, like an old wound that never healed. “No.”
“They didn’t deserve you, neither of them. Why didn’t you tell me about Amelia?”
“She died around the time you lost your dad. You had enough to deal with.”
“And now?”
“You didn’t even know I had a sister and I’m going to tell you she’s dead. I know you, Thea. You would have mourned her, a woman you didn’t know because of her link to me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I didn’t want to put that on you with everything else going on.”
“And Janice?”
A dark look swept his face. “Janice now owns the bar. She worked for Amelia, managing the bar, and now she owns the place.”
“Wait? You think she…”
“Conned my dying sister out of it? Yeah. She didn’t know about me so she was very surprised to see me at the reading of the will. That’s where I learned she had been given power of attorney over Amelia’s interests and the addendum to her will.”
“An addendum?”
“Leaving Janice the bar.”
“Holy shit.”
“I didn’t think much of it at the time, it made sense that Amelia would leave the bar to her manager who was also her friend.”
“So what made you suspicious?”
“When I was making arrangements for Amelia’s funeral, I reviewed her will for her wishes regarding her burial, and it was reviewing the will that I learned I originally had been left everything, including the bar. Janice was in the will. She was left money and her position as manager was hers for as long as she wanted it. And then an addendum is added to the will leaving the bar to Janice right after Janice is given power of attorney, but it was the timing of Janice being given power of attorney that raised a flag. Amelia would have been highly medicated.”
“You would have thought the lawyer would have been suspicious of the addendum and Janice’s gain from it, given the circumstances.”
“He was a neon sign over the door kind of lawyer. He didn’t know Amelia or Janice only that they were close enough that Amelia had her in her will, so trusting her with her estate wasn’t a leap. There was no one else but me to question it. I suspected Janice had abused her position, but she was keeping Amelia’s dream alive. Underhanded and illegal, yes, but Amelia’s went on.”
“But it’s not Amelia’s anymore.”
“And not just in name. It’s time to shake it up.”
“That’s why you wanted me to work there.”
“Two birds.”
It all started to make sense. They hadn’t introduced themselves that day at the bar and his expression hadn’t been interest, it had been contempt. “So it wasn’t lust I saw in your eyes, it was hatred.” Talk about a twist on the expression a fine line between love and hate.
“I’ve only ever felt this emotion toward one other woman, but yeah to manipulate a dying woman for personal gain, I fucking hate her.”
Janice was a lot like Damian’s mother, I understood the hatred, but we weren’t going down that dark road. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Don’t ever run from me.” He spoke the words so softly but it wasn’t anger that fueled them, it was pain.
“I promise.”
“And I won’t keep anything from you.”
I touched his chin to hold his gaze on me. “Not ever.”
“Promise.”
Damian was on a run when I woke. He had lost his sister. That news was more devastating than believing he was married. He had family who had wanted him, had loved him, who had sought him out, and he lost her. I had to believe that everything happened for a reason. I had to believe watching someone like Damian constantly getting knocked down and kicked in the gut, that there was some cosmic scale that would balance so that he would know love and happiness to the same degree he had known heartache and pain. Maybe I was his scale, because I loved him to the very deepest part of my soul.
I was putting on the coffee when Damian came back from his run. He was on the phone that he handed to me on his way to the shower. “Anton.”
I seriously needed an Anton fix after learning about Amelia.
“Hey, Thea.”
“Hi.”
“You sound funny, what’s going on?”
“I just learned about Amelia.”
There was a note of surprise in his voice. “Damian told you about her?”
“Yes. You sound surprised that he did.”
“Her death hit him hard. They’d only just found each other and then she was gone. After the funeral he kind of closed that part of his life down, but considering who you are, you’re the only person he would open that old wound up for.”
Even hating what we were discussing, I loved his thoughts on it. “Was Amelia the reason Damian’s dad left?”
“Yeah. He’d fallen in love with Amelia’s mother.”
I squeezed the phone so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. “So that’s why his mother kept Damian because his father started over with another and she couldn’t torture the man, so she tortured his son.”
“Exactly.”
“If she wasn’t dead, I would kill her.”
“Get in line. I’ve got to go. Damian will fill you in on what we’ve learned.”
“I miss you.”
“Ah, love, I miss you too.”
I needed to bake something. Baking always soothed me; it was my form of yoga. I pulled out the ingredients for oatmeal raisin cookies. Damian came in while I measured out the dry ingredients.
“I’m making oatmeal raisin cookies. I picked that over say chocolate chip or butter because they have oats so you will be more inclined to eat them even though you don’t eat carbs or refined sugars.”
He leaned up against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, but he was smiling at me. My knees went weak. “Should I get the fire extinguisher?”
Would I never live down my first attempt at making cookies?
“Careful or I won’t share. The trick to the perfect cookie is to slightly undercook it.”
“Yes because we’ve seen what happens when you overcook it.”
I wanted to laugh, but instead I glared.
Teasing turned serious when Damian said, “They found who hired the fuck from the alley.”
I stopped whisking the dry ingredients. “Who was it?”
“He’s a CI for Dobbs.”
“So the attack was linked to Dobbs.”
“I don’t think so. I think someone wants us to think that.”
“You think whoever hired this CI knew of his connection to Dobbs and used it to throw us off his scent.”
“Exactly.”
He came up right behind me and pulled the hair from my shoulder to kiss my neck.
My mouth went dry. “That’s a trigger for me.”
He looked very naughty. “Goo
d to know. How can I help?”
“Cookies? We’re talking about cookies, right?”
He chuckled, and then he rubbed his thumb over my lip. “Yeah, babe. For now, we’re talking about cookies.”
“Cookies instead of sex, I suppose there are worse substitutes.”
It was our first night of work. Janice had a dress code—short skirt and tank top that showed off cleavage. Boobs sold drinks; Janice’s words not mine. I wasn’t thrilled working for the woman, knowing what I did about her, but Damian would get to keep an eye on her so there was the silver lining. I checked out my appearance in the mirror. I liked the jean skirt; I had purchased it from a cute little boutique in Soho. It was short with a frayed edge, sexy but not gratuitous. The tank though, a white ribbed tank with a scoop neckline low enough that my girls were definitely on display. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and didn’t bother with very much makeup because in this outfit no one would be looking at my face. A few swipes of mascara, some lip gloss and I was good to go.
Grabbing my apron, I walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Damian was leaning up against the counter. He was in faded jeans and that black tee of his that was more like a second skin. Every bump and ridge of muscle was on glorious display. I reached for one of the cookies we had baked last night, our substitute cookies we called them, and stuffed it in my mouth so I didn’t do what I really wanted to do, which was lick every inch of his body. He looked up, his eyes hitting mine before he moved them down my body…lingering a moment longer on my breasts.
“I know.” I gestured to my décolletage. “Boobs sell drinks.” Then I looked at him through my lashes. “Why? Is this a trigger?”
He answered by grabbing a cookie on his way out of the kitchen.
“I need your keys, Pat. I’m not giving you another drink until you hand them over.”
Pat was fifty-eight, divorced with three kids in college. He worked as an insurance agent and as soon as the clock struck five, his butt was on a stool at Janice’s bar. He was sweet, a flirt and really enjoyed his beer.
“Just one more. Please, Thea.”
“Give me your keys and I’ll get you one more.”
“I have work in the morning.”
“Then maybe you should stop now.”
“I just had to write three checks for fifteen thousand dollars each. College is expensive. I need to numb my senses so I don’t freak out over the hit to my bank account.”
I couldn’t fault him that, but he’d had four beers already. Driving was out of the question.
“You can’t drive. You know you can’t drive. I’ll call a cab for you when you’re ready. I’ll even walk your keys over to your office tomorrow morning.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” he moaned, but he handed me his keys.
“I’ll be right back with your beer.”
Someone dropped some coins in the jukebox as Pink’s ‘Trouble’ started pumping through the place. Ricki and Dee were dancing as they delivered their drinks. The folks at the pool tables at the far back were getting rowdy, but in a good way. The place was electric. It could hold its own with the best clubs in Manhattan and my guess was it was Amelia’s legacy and Janice was reaping the rewards. Damian would make it right.
Stepping up to the fill station, Mic dropped his elbows on the bar and leaned into me. “What can I get you, babe?”
“Another one for Pat, two gin and tonics with Bombay Sapphire and a Maker’s Mark, neat.”
He grinned, “You got it.”
After dropping off Pat’s beer, I moved to the pool tables to collect empties and that was when I noticed Janice wasn’t in her office, she was up front with Damian. And now that I understood the situation, I couldn’t believe I had confused his expression for lust. He looked to be skinning her alive in his mind. I almost felt sorry for her because she had no clue who she was dealing with. And what was she up to? Damian didn’t contest the will, as far as she knew. She had gotten away with it. He was out of the military and home where Amelia hoped he would settle. So was she hoping to not just get Amelia’s bar but her brother too? From the way she practically licked him when she spoke, I was thinking yes.
“Hey, babe. When do you get off?” I turned to see a biker—long hair and tats all over. He had come-hither eyes and the sexiest smile. The girl hanging on him shot me daggers and I understood. She’d been working him all night, so his invitation to me was a real blow—unless he wanted to party.
Resting my hip on the pool table, I flashed him a smile. “One.” I was digging getting into character, being me but not me.
“Are you doing anything after?”
“I’m going home with the husband.”
“Husband? You’re not wearing a ring.”
“I still have one. That’s him by the door.” I gestured with my head and watched as both the man and his groupie followed the direction.
“He’s hot.” Damian was hot, but I had a feeling this chick’s standards were really low.
“He doesn’t look too thrilled that you’re talking to me.”
I glanced over, he was right, Damian looked annoyed. I flashed him a smile. “He’s the jealous type.”
“You ever looking to party, sweetheart, alone or with your man, give me a call.” He handed me a business card. What kind of biker had business cards? His had a skull on it and his name was Razor. Razor. I was being propositioned in the town of Deadwood by a biker named Razor who owned business cards. I seriously needed to take up writing because you couldn’t make this shit up.
Having fun, feeling flirty and playing the part—three weeks ago someone tried to kill me so why not—I glanced up at him through my lashes and smiled. “Sure thing.” Then tucked the card in my cleavage, his eyes like heat-seeking missiles following my hand as I did so. The girl hissed, he growled, I waved then sauntered off and knew he was checking out my ass as I did.
On my way to the bar, Damian waylaid me. He pulled me into a dark corner, and pressed me up against the wall. For just a second I thought he was going to kiss me. My entire body burned at the thought. His head lowered, my lips parted and he said, “You looking to get raped?”
I went from hot to ice cold in a heartbeat. “Excuse me?”
“Flirting like that will get you in trouble.”
“It was harmless.”
“You know that guy?”
“No.”
“How do you know he’s harmless?”
“It was a little flirty banter.”
“Dude has been in prison twice for sexual assault.”
A shiver went through me. “How do you know?”
“My job to know.”
“Someone should tell that girl.”
“She knows.”
“How do you know she knows?” I swear it felt like we were having a Three Stooges conversation.
No answer, so I answered for him, “Your job to know.”
Poor timing, but the way his big, hard body dwarfed mine and how he had to curl his spine to look me in the eyes made me feel not just delicate, but seriously turned on by the power of him. Those hands could kill without mercy, but I knew they could roam over his lover’s body with finesse.
He moved in, his mouth only inches from mine. “Flirting with another man…” He bit my lower lip. “Definitely a trigger.”
Before I could respond a ruckus broke out and caveman Damian morphed into warrior Damian. “Stay here.” Then he was gone.
“How did you meet him?” I hadn’t heard anyone approach so was surprised to see Janice standing there. It wasn’t any of her damn business so I lied.
“Through a friend.”
“He’s something.”
What a bitch. She didn’t know the truth about Damian and me, but she did believe we were married, so her comment was completely out of line. “Yes, he is.”
“I can’t imagine it’s easy holding onto a man like that. He seems quite virile, must be exhausting keeping him satisfied.”
Motherfuc…There wa
s a challenge in her statement, but she was trying to goad me and I wasn’t taking the bait.
“Excuse me.” Damian was just coming in through the back door. I walked over to him and he tracked me from across the room.
“I just had words with Janice. She’s a fucking bitch. I’ll help you bury the body.”
He had no reaction at first and then he tilted his head back and howled with laughter. And if I thought that was glorious it didn’t hold a candle to him grabbing my upper arms, lifting me to my tiptoes and kissing me senseless to the whistles and catcalls of Janice’s patrons. When he released me I was a bit unsteady on my legs. The smile he gave me didn’t help with my balance.
“I think I need to splash my face with water.”
He touched my shoulders and turned me in the direction of the restroom. “It’s that way, babe.”
On the way to the restroom, I spotted a man hanging just outside of it. I didn’t like the look of him. He looked like someone on the prowl. Two girls came out and the way he stared at them gave me the creeps. They seemed to sense it too and hurried it along. I decided against the restroom and walked to the bar.
“That dude is creepy,” I said to Mic as I set down my tray.
“How so?”
“It’s like he’s hunting.”
Mic’s voice went hard even as he turned his attention on the guy. “I’ll keep my eye on him. Might help to tell Damian to do the same, that is if you can get a word in with all that kissing.” He ended that suggestion with a grin.
I grinned back because I really liked all that kissing.
It was a beautiful fall day and I was enjoying it while sitting out back with a blanket, a cup of hot chocolate and my sketchpad. Damian and I did not kiss more after we returned home from work. Instead I took a very cold shower then slept like a dead person. He was off running when I woke, so I retreated to the backyard to draw. My focus was the garden, but the beds were covered in leaves. I had never raked a yard and it was such a fall thing to do. From the garage, I retrieved not only the rake and the garden bags, but some gloves I spotted on the potting shed.
Two hours into the backbreaking work, I had to stop. I never appreciated how much work it was to rake leaves. I had callouses on my hands, my back hurt but there was a sense of pride in seeing what I had accomplished. And it was while I pulled the leaves from the garden beds that I made a discovery. There was a hollowed out tree trunk in the garden that was tucked under a bush. It looked like Plexiglas covering the opening to keep the elements out. I got down on my stomach. Amelia had had a whimsical soul because it was the most elaborate fairy garden I had ever seen. Fairies having a tea party around a small fire pit, little houses and shepherds’ hooks with lanterns, flowers and a stream made from blue stones, fences and benches. It was beautiful, enchanting and charming. I wondered if Damian knew this was here. He had returned from his run and was in the living room, on the phone talking business. He saw me and abruptly ended the call, probably because I looked slightly wild.
