by Eden Butler
I pursed my lips and the bottom one began to bleed again. Ryan, now all business, moved my chin this way and that, wincing at my bottom lip. “Shit. When will Evie be here?” he said over his shoulder, throwing a glare at Sammy. “You called her? I asked you to call her.” He was more anxious than he should have been over a split lip, but I didn’t tell him to calm down or explain who the hell Evie was. I doubted he would have listened to me anyway.
“Shit, Ryan, yes,” Sammy told him, shaking his head. “I told you twice. She’s on her way. I still don’t understand why you just don’t take her to the ER.”
“Because that asshole has been following her.” Ryan hustled me back to the sofa to sit while he answered his uninterested friends. “Fucking Ironside…”
“You don’t know it was any of his boys,” I told him, taking his handkerchief out of his hand when he tried blotting my lip dry.
The others had stopped paying attention to us. Ryan kneeled in front of me with his hands on either side of my thighs. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and he glanced once over his shoulder like he wanted to make sure no one could hear him. “Who else could hurt you like him?”
“Ryan…” I almost softened with that look he gave me. Living like I did, being who I was, I’d seen men like Ryan a hundred times. Some of them I conned. Some were just nice guys who thought I needed rescuing from the life of crime I’d been forced into. And just then, Ryan gave me that same look—the one that told me he’d save me, that he wanted to. But with him, it went beyond a rescue. He’d kissed me like he’d really meant it. He’d kissed me with his eyes closed and it was that touch, that blind feel of his lips on mine that had me wanting to retreat.
Timber had spooked me. He’d made me feel ashamed, embarrassed in my own skin and sitting there with Ryan looking so worried, so eager, I wondered if he’d ever look at me the same. Would he see me and not those scars? “Listen, about that…” but Ryan wouldn’t let me finish.
He grunted, lowering his head like he couldn’t take the sight of the marks on my face or the memory of what tattooed my stomach. “You shouldn’t have run.”
“Does it matter what I shouldn’t have done at the moment?” I sat back against the sofa, holding the cloth to my mouth as Ryan watched me. There was something in his eyes, something about that small twitch under his bottom lid and how it moved with the irritation he was obviously feeling that kept me from being angry. The poor man was genuinely concerned. That didn’t happen often for me and I wasn’t sure what I thought about the sensation, but I think I liked it. “I stepped in it. I know I did.”
With his shoulders lowering, Ryan sidled next to me, resting his arms on his knees as he looked at me. “I will fucking end him.”
I couldn’t decide what that tone meant or why Ryan had become so worried, so determined to make Timber answer. He’d gotten it in his head that my former boss was responsible for this attack, and deep down I knew that Ryan’s anger had far less to do with whoever the asshole was that busted my lip than with the man who had left the marks on my stomach.
But then the look he gave me grew too intense, too fierce and so I dismissed his emotion, waving off his frown with a flick of my hand. “Put it back in your pants, mister.”
My joke had an immediate affect and Ryan cracked a smile. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m fucking livid here.”
“Hey, I’m the one with a busted lip.”
Ryan only held that smile for a moment and then it shifted, deepened. He looked like he might say something, maybe even mention what had almost happened back at his place. What I fucking wanted to happen. I hadn’t really allowed myself to acknowledge it before, but, cop-like or not, Ryan was beautiful. Too beautiful. And he was a good man, nice even if he didn’t want to fess up to it and there he had been standing behind me at the sink, the heat from his body burning me, his breath so close and hot, and the smell of his skin crowding me… it had been too much, and not near enough.
Sort of like now as Ryan nudged closer, his hand again going back to my face. I felt shy, which was way weird for me, but the way Ryan looked at me, how soft his touch was made me feel, well, beautiful, and I wanted it in a way I never had before. “Ryan,” I said, but then faltered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted or why I’d spoken his name, but he seemed to get that, moving his gaze from my eyes and back to my mouth.
The sound of the office door opening broke the moment, and a woman in blue scrubs blew in with the rain. Ryan’s lingering worry seemed to ease when he saw her.
She nodded to Frank when he greeted her, but it was Ryan’s gaze she kept hold of as she walked inside. Did they realize their smiles were identical—knowing, familiar? These two had history. Clearly.
“How’s the shoulder?” the woman asked Ryan, as a stray lock of dark brown hair escaped the messy bun affixed to the back of her head and fell across her forehead. She absentmindedly pushed it behind her ear as she smiled at him, and the tension that had been in the room a moment earlier relaxed.
“It’s fine. I’m good, Evie. This,” he said, nodding toward me, “is my… this is Alex. She got attacked on the street and it’s not safe to bring her into the ER.”
Evie—apparently that was her name—didn’t hesitate or ask any other questions, she just dropped her bag and pulled a black metal chair in front of me, looking me in the eye and smiling as she sat. Damn, but she seemed genuinely concerned. “Hey, Alex. I’m Evie, and old friend of Ryan’s. You alright? You hurting anywhere specifically?”
A petty, jealous part of me that wondered what shared history made Evie and Ryan smile at each other the way they had, urged me to instantly hate this woman. But it wasn’t my business, now, was it? Besides, Evie had eyes that were warm and a smile was gentle, unthreatening. She had donned the obligatory latex gloves and was moving my chin around, tenderly touching my scrapes and cuts like someone who knew what they were doing—and actually cared. It should have been easy to hate her, but hell, I couldn’t.
“Just my mouth at the moment,” I told her, squinting against the floor lamp light when Evie pulled it toward my face.
“Sorry, sweetie, the light is shit in here.”
Ryan came over and touched me on my shoulder. “Alex, Evie will take care of you. So will Frank and Dean. But I’ve got something to handle.” That hard, determined frown had fallen back onto his features and I knew with a sinking sensation that he would be looking to settle some sort of asinine man-score with Timber.
“You’re leaving?” I asked him, feeling my stomach twist.
“I need to have a conversation.”
“Ryan…”
“He won’t be alone, sweetheart,” Sammy said, standing next to Ryan. These two G.I. Joes were really clueless about Timber’s organization and how accusations were handled in that part of town. They couldn’t just go in, banging on his office door and expect to see him; it didn’t work like that. But Sammy shot me a wink, and then he and Ryan were digging into a large cabinet at the back of the office—shit, guns maybe? I couldn’t tell—and it hit me. They were just like the thugs they were about to visit, no better, maybe worse. Stubborn and determined. And dammit, that can be a deadly combination.
I barely registered Evie cleaning my face. My focus was on Ryan and the quiet looks that went between him and Sammy, those unspoken decisions that needed to be made before heading out. That twist in my stomach only got worse.
I couldn’t read his eyes because the shit wouldn’t look at me, but his whole bearing meant trouble. It meant that Ryan wasn’t thinking straight. The alcohol swab in Evie’s hand fell when I leaned forward, trying to get Ryan’s attention.
“I need you to hold still, hon.” Even as she continued to work, I could feel Evie’s gaze focused on me, on the way I was watching Ryan. Could she tell I was silently willing him not to leave?
“Evie?” Ryan said, stopping at her side while Sammy waited at the door. Jackass still wouldn’t look at me. “Don’t worry, Ryan, she’ll be fine,” Evie said. She too
k one quick glance up at him, flashed him one reassuring smile, then turned back to her work, refusing to get involved. Smart woman.
I was going to yell at him, right then. I was going to tell him he was being stupid. That I wasn’t some helpless woman who needed a man to go off and warn the big bully not to touch me, and more than likely he was simply going to make matters worse. But Ryan was stubborn, itching for answers and I knew telling him he was wrong would only force his hand, make him eager to prove he wasn’t.
“I’ll be an hour,” he said to the room before he and Sammy walked through the door.
A gust of wet, cold air blew in with the open door. The weather had turn frigid; now, on top of everything else, I started to worry about how cold Ryan would be out there, and that he’d be getting wet—again. All because of me.
“You shouldn’t worry about him,” Evie said, pulling my attention back to her as she moved my chin down.
“Yeah?” I asked, trying not to watch the door.
A shadow fell over Evie’s shoulder as Frank moved closer. “He can take care of himself.” It was the first time Frank had spoken to me directly. He placed a cup of coffee on the table beside the sofa and nodded toward Evie before sitting down next to me. “She okay?”
“Fine. No stiches.” She sat back, pulling the thin latex gloves from her hands. “I’m gonna give you some samples of antibiotics to ward against infection, just in case. You’ll have some nasty bruises, but the cuts should heal cleanly. You were lucky.”
“I was fast,” I offered, not sure why I felt the need to say that, but neither Frank nor Evie commented, and Dean, still behind the desk, was more interested in his phone than any bragging I might have done.
I turned my attention back to the door through which Ryan and Sammy had left, and Evie must have noticed the concern on my face. Of course she did. She brushed my knee, cleared her throat. “He really can take care of himself. You shouldn’t worry so much.”
I shook off her offer of a cup of coffee and slid back against the couch, crossing my legs as Evie cleared her mess and Frank stretched out his long arm along the back of the sofa. I just couldn’t keep quiet. “I don’t doubt that he can take care of himself, but he’s heading in the wrong direction.” Evie frowned, continuing to clean and I felt the cushion move when Frank shifted in his spot. “I just mean he’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“Ryan’s smart, Miss Black.” Frank’s voice was deep and strong but I heard the professional glint in his tone. He was used to keeping people calm. “He’s covering the bases. If he thinks your boss is involved…”
“Timber isn’t my anything.” I realized the acid bite in my voice had them surprised. Frank remained cool, non-reactionary, but Evie wasn’t as good at guarding her expressions. “I just mean…”
“Ironside knows something,” Dean said, over his phone, shocking me that he had any idea what we were discussing. “From what Ryan’s told us, there’s something brewing.”
“He’s a gangster. Something is always brewing.”
“True enough,” Frank said. I jiggled my foot back and forth nervously when Frank kept his gaze on my profile. Damn, the man did have an intimidating way about him. “If there’s something you know that you’d like to share…”
“I’m not in the loop,” I snapped at him, aware at how closely he watched me. Across the room I even caught Dean’s shifting gaze as he pretended to focus on his phone. Only Evie remained without an agenda. She continued to watch as our little drama unfolded.
“I’d hate for Ryan to go in there blind.” Franked fingered the back of the sofa, tapping out a slow rhythm right next to my shoulder. It was a slow, methodical beat that I couldn’t place that made me nervous, anxious. “Because if anything were to happen to Ryan…”
“Frank, let it go,” Evie finally said, sitting back down in the metal chair in front of me. “The woman’s lip is busted and you’re treating her like she did something wrong.” Evie pinched the bridge of her nose. “And you’re getting on my nerves.”
Frank leaned his head back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Yes, ma’am Dr. Cousin.”
“You’re cousins?” I asked her.
She shrugged, like being related to these men was an irritation she couldn’t avoid. “One thing to know about these degenerates?” she nodded at Frank and then back to Dean, “they’re loyal to a fault and generally only to each other.” She smiled at Frank when he lifted his head up to glare at her. “They aren’t an easy group to infiltrate.”
At my side Frank grunted, like he couldn’t disagree with his cousin so instead he got up from the couch and went back to the bar above the door to resume his pull ups. His movements were slow, precise and I noticed how he bent his knees, one side higher than the other. Evie must have seen my stare, the way I focused on the lay of Frank’s pants because she slipped next to me, turning her back toward Frank. “IED took his leg.”
I snapped my eyes from his leg, not wanting to be obvious and Evie laughed. “He doesn’t care if you look.” She sipped her coffee, hiding her smile behind the cup when my gaze peeked back at Frank’s leg.
“So they’re suspicious of me, that’s what you’re saying?” I asked her.
“I’m saying it takes a little bit to get to know them.” Evie settled back against the cushions. “But they make it work.” She waved her hand. “The business, the jobs, but they always act like they’re still active, like they’re all waiting for orders.” She had warm highlights in her hair and her eyelids looked swollen, like she hadn’t slept well in a couple of days. “All that bickering and fussing, that’s just them being men. They think yelling and name calling will solve their issues.”
“You’ve seen it first hand, I guess.”
Evie snorted. “All my damn life with those three and, yeah, with Ryan too. He’s sort of the adopted fourth amigo.”
“So you and Ryan are close too?”
Evie stared at me, looking for something in my face. My guess was that she was trying to figure out if I was fishing, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t the type of woman who generally cared about competition. And I liked Evie. She was a nice person, exactly the kind of woman Ryan would be happy with. I guessed.
“Ryan’s a friend, Alex. That’s all he’s ever been to me.” There was a small hint of something in her voice I couldn’t quite make out, something that told me Evie had no intention of giving me details and that was fine with me. I understood, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew there was something between them, no matter how much she swore he was just another Auciello brother.
I didn’t catch a cousinly vibe between them.
Pushing her wasn’t my style and I didn’t want to come off as desperate or needy, but Evie had to know I wasn’t an idiot. “Seemed a little more than that to me. I mean, that’s not my business, but I caught something between you two.”
She shrugged, dismissing anything that might make me worry, like whatever history she had with Ryan wasn’t anything to write home about. “Once upon a time he was a one night thing, but it will never be anything more than that. And it was a long time ago.”
“It’s not my business,” I said, feeling immediately stupid for prying.
“Oh, honey, it’s more your business than you know.” I didn’t appreciate her laugh, or how Evie did a piss poor job of concealing her amusement.
“You don’t know me,” I told her, adjusting in my spot on the sofa while she continued to laugh at me.
“I don’t have to,” she said, touching my arm like she wanted me to pay attention to her. “I know Ryan.”
“I told you, Ryan, Mr. Ironside is not in.”
I hate that shit—be smooth, be cool, but lie through your teeth. It was something all lowlifes did and something that big bastard Cosmo was a pro at. Fucker lied without even the slightest flicker of his gaze or inflection in his voice giving him away.
“And I told you, asshole, to find out where he is.”
Size doesn’t matter. I wasn’
t a big guy, not compared to some of the men I’d fought with in the SEALs, but I was quick, lithe and could knock even the biggest bastard’s teeth out with a one-two punch. It was something my fingers itched to do as Cosmo stood in front of the closed office door inside Matty’s Gin Joint. The place was a dive bar with no real clientele and very little atmosphere, but there was a massive courtyard beyond the back of the building that Dean and Sammy had staked out while investigating that lost tourist. It was supposed to be non-descript and low key. Ironside had offices beyond that courtyard where he ran his boys, organized his groups and did whatever the hell it was he did that kept the wiretaps fired up by the NOPD.
I knew the asshole was in. Sammy had spotted his Cadillac within five minutes of hopping out of the cab. Besides, it was the weekend. No way Ironside would be at home, tucked under his duvet at eleven o’clock.
But Cosmo wasn’t budging. He stood like a wall of once-firm muscle and bulk, blocking us from the back exit with his hands clasped together like a real bodyguard and that damn blank expression giving nothing away. “I really think you might want to watch yourself.”
That small warning had Sammy cackling like a madman. He slapped Cosmo’s shoulder and the bigger man rounded on him, looking ready to pounce before Sammy removed the humor from his voice. “Nah, he doesn’t. Go get your boss.”
When my best friend crossed his arms, making the holster on his shoulder bulge against his jacket, Cosmo rolled his eyes. “Please, asshole. You think you’re the first to roll in here carrying? This is New Orleans, motherfucker.”
