ZACK (The Beckett Boys, Book Five)

by Olivia Chase

Okay then.

  I make myself turn the car on and pull out of the driveway, trying to shake off the lingering arousal.

  The ride back to my apartment is quiet. I don’t bother turning on the music. My brain is overwhelmed with thoughts running through it like a wildfire.

  I get inside, and my body is suddenly tired, my brain unable to deal with everything that happened with my dad. And with Zack—his insanely sexy kiss and then his abrupt exit. A long soak in a bathtub, that’s what I need. Then I’ll call Harper.

  It takes no time to strip off my sweater and jeans, then run a steaming bath in the tub. I lay back in it and sigh, letting the warm water relax my bones. When I’m finally too hot to linger in the water, I get out, dry myself off, then put on a plush robe. Pad through the living room to my purse to grab my phone.

  But my cell isn’t in my purse. I dig through and it’s just not there.

  Hm. Maybe I left it in a coat pocket? I go through both of them. Crap, not there either. I check my discarded jeans next. Nada. Surely I didn’t leave my phone in the car, did I? I’m usually better at remembering things than that. With a heavy sigh, I put back on my jeans and sweater and trudge down to the apartment’s parking lot. Key the door.

  Search the whole interior.

  No sign of my phone. Not even between my seats.

  Dammit. Frustration wells in my chest. And I don’t even have a landline here so I can call it. But I suppose I must have left it in the prison. They looked through my bag during the security check—maybe I somehow dropped it at that time.

  I go back upstairs in my apartment and formulate a plan. I’ll call my cell tomorrow morning from the teacher’s break room.

  Whoever found it will hopefully be an honest soul who’ll give it back. I can’t really afford a new one right now.

  I head to the fridge and eye my leftovers, trying to decide what to eat for dinner. A splendid end to a super strange day.

  I’m at the break room the next morning, ready to find out the fate of my poor phone.

  I grip the receiver in hand and settle down at the desk chair where the landline is kept, along with scraps of paper, sticky notes, and half-dry pens.

  I dial my cell number and wait.

  The phone rings twice, and then a deep, familiar voice answers.

  “Hello?”

  My nostrils flare. What the hell—it’s him.

  Zack.

  He stole my phone.

  I instantly recognized that it’s him. God knows his sexy voice featured in half my dreams last night. My dirty dreams. Ugh. “Why hello, cell phone thief. Is this what you mean by making a living—stealing cell phones from unsuspecting women?”

  He gives a low chuckle. “I was just trying to teach you a lesson, princess. Don’t leave your shit unprotected around people you don’t know.”

  I’m half turned on, half irritated by his sheer arrogance.

  “Thanks, Dad.” The words are sarcastic and louder than I meant. I drop my voice when I see one of the fifth grade teachers eyeing me from her spot on the worn plaid couch. “I expect you to give me my phone back, by the way. And I hope you don’t think I’m going to pay for the privilege of having it returned.”

  “I sure do,” he says smoothly. “But not with money. I want you to go out on a date with me tonight.”

  My eyes fly wide open. Is he joking? “Wait…what? You…” I whisper, “You kissed me and then left. But now you’re asking me out?” What kind of mixed-signals crap is this? I’m not following.

  “I was waiting for your call, kiddo. Took you long enough.” When I sputter with irritation, he laughs. “But now you’ll make sure to watch your belongings, won’t you?”

  “Especially around you,” I say sourly.

  “So you do want to be around me again.”

  I sigh. “You’re crazy. This is the strangest pick-up I’ve ever had. You know that, right?”

  “And yet thirty years from now, you’ll be telling your grandkids about it.”

  “So you already have us married and with kids, huh?” I tease back. “Boy, you do move fast.”

  “I said your grandkids—not ours. Keep your ovaries in check, princess.”

  I can’t believe I’m going to agree. But I have to be honest, I want to see what’s going to happen. “Fine,” I find myself saying with a mock sigh. “One date. And you’d better bring my phone.”

  “Oh, I’ll have it with me,” he says in a darkly suggestive tone.

  God help me, I can’t help but react to it. My nipples bead into tight nubs at the thought of that voice purring against my ear. His tongue sliding along the lobe.

  “You better have it,” I reply.

  “And maybe if you’re good, I won’t make you search for where it’s hidden,” he adds.

  I swallow hard. “I can’t even imagine the creative places you could hide it.”

  That earns me a dour frown from the teacher on the couch. Mrs. Bramlace is always such a grump. I’ve called her Mrs. Crabface in my head since the first day I saw her dour face. At her hard glare, I narrow my eyes back in a surprising show of backbone until she harrumps and gets off the couch, closing the door behind her and leaving me alone in the room. Victory. I should try that more often.

  “Princess, are you at work?”

  “Yes, I am. I don’t have a landline at home, so I had to use this one, which is why I couldn’t reach out until this morning. And stop calling me that.” Despite my protests, I’m smiling at his words. The man is irritating but charming. I’m sure he knows it.

  “Nah, I think I like it. It fits you. I’ll pick you up at eight—be ready.”

  “Presumptive, aren’t you? Maybe I wanted to meet you out. After all, you did warn me about the dangers of men like you.” I’m poking the bear, but for some reason, I can’t help it. Something in him makes me want to tease, to fight a little. To show him I’m not just some bland basic bitch.

  I might be naïve, I might be sexually unexperienced, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t felt sexual hunger. That I haven’t ached to be pleasured, to be fulfilled in ways I can’t even fathom. That I don’t want more in my sheltered life than what little I’ve experienced so far.

  “Something tells me you crave a little bit of danger, don’t you.” His words are low, but they’re bold enough to pulse right down to my pussy. I feel myself clench, then get a little wet. Crap. I squirm in the seat. “I can hear it in the way you’re breathing. Tell me where you live, princess.”

  I give him my address.

  “I’ll be there at eight,” he reiterates. “Wear something hot for our date.” He hangs up without waiting for my response.

  I stay in the chair for a long moment, struggling to get my breathing under control before I have to go teach a classroom full of second graders.

  Yeah, good luck to me on that.

  Zack

  All morning, my conversation with Autumn runs through my mind.

  And knowing I’m seeing her tonight has me rock hard in anticipation of what might happen.

  Something about that girl intrigues me. Maybe it’s the way she pushes me right back, doesn’t let me give her any shit. The innocence pouring from her is intoxicating, as much as it screams at me to leave her alone.

  When I saw her phone sitting in the cup holder of her car, I took it. Stuck it right in my jeans pocket. Strange impulse—I told her it was to teach her a lesson, and maybe in a way, it was. But more likely, it was also more than that…like, a reason for us to talk again.

  I can’t fight the shit-eating grin on my face as I step into our family kitchen. My brothers are already out, probably making the rounds in the neighborhood. We’re the unofficial protectors here, keeping assholes from beating up our neighbors and small business owners. The cops won’t even venture in this part—it’s our turf. And we keep it safe…have for years.

  Our dad started the business a number of years ago, but since he’s in the joint now, my brothers and I keep it running.

  W
ell, not all of us.

  Not my brother Jamison.

  My smile fades, and I scrounge in the fridge for something other than half-empty cans of beer and moldy cheese. Fucking Jamison. Our oldest brother has gone to the dark side, ditching all of us, moving out of our family home and even marrying that woman he was seeing. The betrayal I feel over his defection from our family, from our mission, still stings.

  Things aren’t the same without him here.

  But that’s okay. Whatever. I’m holding us together now. Dad needs me to. And I’m not giving up on the plan to reclaim the bar Outlaws for me and my brothers.

  It’s our right—my shithead cousins won’t respect the contract their father made with my old man. Well, I’m going to make them honor it one way or another.

  It’s my single-minded focus these days.

  And now it’s time for me to talk to my stubborn cousin Smith directly, one on one, help him see the light when it comes to Outlaws.

  I make a quick sandwich with the last of the leftover turkey slices and then hop in my car, heading to the bar.

  Outlaws was started by Smith’s dad, who passed away a few years ago, leaving his three sons to run it.

  Smith’s dad signed a contract with Butch to borrow fifteen thousand for the launch of the bar. He never paid him back before he died though, so he’s defaulted on the loan.

  The bar is ours now, even if they don’t want to admit it.

  And I’m fucking tired of dicking around about this.

  I pull into Outlaws’ parking lot. There aren’t any cars there yet—they don’t open for another couple of hours. But Smith lives in the apartment above the bar with his wife, so I’m sure he’s around.

  I pound on the bar’s front door, loud enough for the next town over to hear me. A couple of minutes later, the door swings open, and Smith is staring at me, a flat expression on his face.

  “What do you want?” he growls.

  No love lost between our families. Our attempts to muscle them into handing the bar over, including intimidating their customers, haven’t worked yet.

  Yet being the operative word.

  I haven’t even begun to fuck with them…

  I smirk and step past Smith into the bar. “What do you think I want?” A look around shows even more changes since I’ve been in here. This place used to be the wildest, roughest joint around, with crazy brawls happening on a nightly basis. Now it’s almost—shudder—family-friendly.

  Fuck that. When we get it under our ownership, we’re going to go old school in this place. My cousins alienated a lot of people who supported them in order to go after the almighty rich fucks in this town.

  But I haven’t forgotten where we came from.

  I know the so-called rough people in this town need a place too.

  “We’re seriously going to go over this again?” Smith sounds weary. “You guys need to give this shit up. We’re not signing the bar over to you, period. You have no proof that that contract you flashed us is real—or if by chance it is, that my father didn’t pay that debt off before he passed.”

  I spin on my heels, angry. “Butch says it’s legit. It’s legit.” My dad might be rough around the edges, but he takes his word seriously. He raised us to be noble in our own way. Honor among thieves. And we protect our own…including what’s rightfully ours. “I’m here to warn you. I expect you to honor the deal our fathers made.”

  “Even Jamison thinks it’s fucking fake,” Smith lobs at me. “He agrees that we should keep the bar, and you guys are wrong. Maybe you outta pull your head out of your ass and try listening to him, the only reasonable one in your family.”

  A hot streak of anger at the mention of my oldest brother flashes through my body.

  “Don’t say shit about my ex-brother,” I retort, struggling to keep a lid on my fury. Jamison is dead to me now, dead to all of us. “Things are going to be different than when he ran shit. You’ve been given too many chances—this is your final warning.”

  Smith steps toward me, eyes narrowed, jaw ticking. “You should leave before something bad happens between us,” he says quietly.

  I grin, flashing all my teeth in a feral smile. “You think I’m scared of you? I’m ready for a fight. But I hope you’re ready for the shit-storm we’re about to bring down on you.” I give a jolly wink to him, then turn around and saunter slowly out the front door.

  I won’t let him see any weakness in me.

  Butch is depending on me. My brothers are, too. I won’t fail like Jamison did.

  I won’t go weak when the pressure hits.

  Somehow, the idea of going weak makes me think about Autumn. She’s the kind of girl that could make me lose focus if I’m not careful.

  Jamison lost focus over a girl—it could happen to me, too.

  I ball up my fists and close my eyes for a brief second. Autumn is beautiful and sexy and innocent, but I’m not going to screw up and get serious with her or anyone else.

  Saving my family, taking care of my brothers, bringing us to a new level, and getting Outlaws—that’s my sole reason for living at the moment.

  Now more than I’m ever, I’m convinced I’m in the right—that my dad was wronged by their father, and I’m the only one who can fix this mess.

  I get in my car and rev the engine a few times, loud and clear to Smith that I’m gonna fuck shit up for them, that I won’t let this go. Their continued refusal to do the honorable thing is grating on my nerves. It’s been months of this bullshit now. Well, time to kick things up a notch.

  I whip out of the parking lot and head back home. After I pull into the small one-car garage, I enter the house, then dig my phone out of my pocket and dial Hale, the oldest of the twins and the middle child in our family.

  “’Sup, bitch?” Hale says cheerily to me.

  “Stopped by to visit Smith,” I say without preamble. “He isn’t backing down. Shocker.”

  “You should of let me pound his face like I wanted to. We’ll see how fast he hands over the bar then.”

  Hale’s one of those “punch first, ask questions later” kind of guy. But he’s loyal as fuck, and I know he’s got my back no matter what. Hale doesn’t take shit from anyone. And he’s been boxing for years now and is a legit threat with his hands.

  “Maybe it won’t come down to that,” I tell Hale. “I think we’re ready for phase two of our plan.”

  “I’m in, bro,” Hale says. “You know that. But I got to go. Checking in on the Sanders widow on Pepper Lane to make sure those teens haven’t come back to harass her.”

  The Sanders widow isn’t paying us a lot for protection, but she’s super old, and we don’t want anyone in our neighborhood to fuck with the infirm just because they think they can get away with it. Besides, Mrs. Sanders’ chicken noodle soup is the tits.

  “Got it,” I tell him. “Make sure to bring some extra soup home. I’m starving.” We hang up, and I go into the kitchen, eyeing the growing pile of bills on our table.

  Keeping things running since Butch went to jail has been a difficult job. My oldest brother used to handle all of that—paying bills and so on—until he moved out a few months ago. So now the job has fallen on my shoulders as the second oldest.

  Ours is a cash industry, and we have a small safe where we keep our intake for neighborhood protection and other assorted work. Our half-brother, Axel, does tattoo work in the living room—that makes decent money, and he’s a legit artist, like Butch. I wish I had his artistic talent.

  I sit down on the rickety kitchen chair, eyeing the scratched table, trying to not think about the dwindling pile of money in our safe.

  We need Outlaws to work out.

  Not gonna make it much longer hustling the way we are. I have to be honest with myself and admit it—we’re just living in the now, scrambling to get by month to month. But a bar…that’s living in the future. That’s real planning.

  We could do it. Hell, if Smith and Jax and Asher can run Outlaws, me and my bro’s
sure as shit can run it too.

  I get a small wad of cash out of the safe, pick up the overdue local bills, then walk to the bank. Most of the bankers know who my brothers and I are and don’t really like to deal with us, except this one hot chick who’s a teller—she hooked up a few times with Axel, so she’s the one I usually get money orders from to pay our bills, since we don’t have a checking account.

  A wink or two, and I can usually get her to wave the fee.

  When I’m done with that, I send Hudson a text asking him to do some fucking grocery shopping, and maybe try to bring something home that’s supposed to be green, not just moldy. He sends me a devil-icon text back, then a pic of him flipping me the bird. I laugh and put my phone back in my pocket.

  The air outside today is warmer than yesterday, with a lot more sunshine. Thank fuck. I think about Autumn, her dark hair glimmering in the hints of sun through the clouds yesterday, her rich brown eyes, and my dick stirs. She’s fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to see her again.

  And tonight, she’s mine, at least for a little while. I’ve already decided where we’ll go—somewhere innocuous, but with enough privacy and darkness for me to tease her. Taste her. Touch her silky skin.

  I head into my house to shower and get ready.

  Can’t fucking wait.

  A little while later, I’m knocking on Autumn’s apartment door. It opens, and I let out a wolf whistle in an attempt to cover up the very real, very vivid reaction I have to her. “You look fucking gorgeous, princess.”

  She quirks a brow and smooths her hand down her black skirt. Her deep red top is filmy and begging for me to rip it off with my teeth. Holy fuck. Her lips are bold red, and currently they’re curved up in a smile as she eyes me. “Well, thanks. Where’s my cell phone?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Oh, no. You don’t get it back until the date is over.”

  As she rolls her eyes, she says, “I figured I’d ask. Okay, let’s head out.” She grabs a coat from a rack beside the door and locks it behind her, sliding into it. “Where are we going?”

  “To a movie,” I answer smoothly. “If you didn’t eat yet, we can grab a bite on the way. They also serve food and wine at this theater if you’d prefer.”