House of Payne: Styx

by Stacy Gail

  He was almost there? For God’s sake, what the hell was he talking about? He wasn’t a cop. “Babe, I can’t choose between a supreme pizza and a meat lover’s, so I’m just going to get both, okay? That should be more than enough, unless you think you’re going to bring over some company.” Please, please tell me you’re not being a hero and trying to do this all by yourself.

  “I’m bringing plenty of company, baby. We’re almost there.”

  There was that dreadful we again. “Okay.”

  “Hang up.” Wesley shifted so that he could hiss in her other ear, and the gun went higher at her side, just under her arm. If he pulled the trigger now, a bullet would tear right through her lung and hit her heart. “Get rid of him.”

  Her throat constricted when she realized she might not ever hear Styx’s beautiful voice again. “Listen Styx, I, uh… I really should try to get this shopping done, so…”

  “We’re hurrying, Sydney, I swear. Just another minute or two, and we’ll be there.” The frantic sound of motion was gone, and while he sounded slightly out of breath, she could tell he was no longer running. The ambient sounds of the outside world were also missing, and her heart sank when she realized what that meant.

  He was there.

  Goddamn it.

  Somewhere inside that grocery store, her man was running right to the heart of danger.

  If he lived through this, she would kill him.

  “You don’t have to help me with the groceries, Styx.” She tried to put as much warning into her voice as she dared, then glanced nervously at Wesley when he hissed and she felt the gun shake against her side, like he’d almost pulled the trigger in some sort of stress-induced spasm. “I won’t be much longer, okay? You stay in the car, and I-I’ll be right out.” Please stay away and let the cops do their job…

  “Listen to me very carefully, Sydney.” His voice was eerily calm now, not at all out of breath and colder than she’d ever heard it. “The moment you hear yelling—and you will hear lots of yelling—you throw yourself down on the ground, yeah? Just drop your legs out from under you and hug the fucking ground until I get to you. Understand?”

  Goddamn him, he was there, right there in the thick of things.

  “Yes.” It came out faintly, and she had to clear her throat in order to try again. “Yes, absolutely, I promise not to laugh at you when you pick all the bell peppers off your pizza like you’re some little kid.”

  “Good girl, just keep talking naturally while they finish clearing out the store. I’ve got eyes on you now. I’m so proud of you, Syd, you’re doing great. Get ready, baby. On my mark, you drop the fuck away from that cocksucker’s gun. Three, two, one… Now.”

  She didn’t hesitate.

  One second she was standing there pretending to inspect the selection of frozen pizzas, and the next she was on the floor like a marionette with cut strings, rolling away from Wesley so that the basket was partially between them. Wesley had tried to keep hold of her, but as they practically weighed the same, her sudden drop made him bend over awkwardly, and she heard his head smack against the freezer’s glass door. A gunshot went off, so close it momentarily deafened her. A scream escaped her, and she curled up in a protective fetal position, eyes squeezed tightly shut and arms over her head as the world went insane around her.

  Beyond the ringing in her ears she heard shouts, screams and the sound of stampeding feet all around her. She scrunched up tighter, trying to disappear. The world had suddenly become awash in violence and madness, and she wanted to be anywhere but there.

  She wanted Styx.

  She just didn’t want him there.

  God, no.

  If Styx was there, and something happened to him, she wouldn’t know what to do. She couldn’t live without him. It had taken a gun in her side to make her realize that fact, but there it was.

  She couldn’t live without Styx.

  A powerful hand hooked around the arm she had wrapped around her head and pulled with surprising gentleness. In a blink she was on her feet and being steadied by Arthur, of all people. “You’re all right, hon. It’s over now. You’re okay.”

  “Styx. Where…?” There was a scuffle going on behind Arthur, snapping her attention that way. Wesley. If Wesley was still an active threat and Styx was somewhere nearby—

  “Let go of me, fucker.” The enraged words were barely recognizable as being human. They snarled out of Styx, who was being held back by his brother and at least two other uniforms. His eyes, wild in a way she’d never seen before, were focused on the bleeding, crumpled heap on the freezer aisle floor, and it took her a moment to recognize that it was Wesley. Or whatever was left of him. “Trey, goddamn you, let me go. Weak piece of dogshit deserves a fucking beatdown, so let me—”

  “Styx.” A shudder of the greatest relief she’d ever known hit her so hard she almost buckled, but she had to make it to him. Safe. Her Styx was safe, and he was her safety. If she could get to him, everything would be all right.

  That was all she needed.

  She just needed Styx.

  She never remembered how she got out of Arthur’s hold, or if she’d had any trouble getting through the men holding Styx back from committing murder. All she knew was that she was suddenly there, her arms wrapped around his middle as hard as she could hold him. As the internal dam that had been holding back her tears at last gave way, she decided she would never, ever let him go.

  “Syd…. Baby, shh. Don’t cry, it’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s all over.” Like a switch had been thrown, the wild man that had been Styx vanished as if he’d never been. In his place was a miraculously gentle soul holding her at first, and then bending to scoop her up to cradle her in his arms like she was something precious. “I’m taking her home. She’s not ready for any statements yet. A couple hours from now, yeah, but not now.”

  Who was he talking to? Statements? Nothing he said made sense, because her brain had gone into serious lockdown. She’d used every ounce of willpower she’d had to keep it together. As of now, she… was… done.

  Except for one thing.

  “Trey.” She raised her head that had found a perfect place against Styx’s neck, and she turned to glare pure death at his twin. “You ever let my man walk into that kind of danger again, I will fucking kill you. Don’t doubt me on this.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” Styx said while Trey’s eyes widened and Arthur began to laugh. “When she’s calm, she’ll probably apologize.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m done apologizing.” With that, she nestled her face back against Styx’s neck and held on tight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Styx said he was taking her home, that meant his apartment, and Sydney couldn’t have been happier about it.

  Home was wherever Styx was.

  The one thing she couldn’t think about was how close she’d come to losing her home, her everything.

  Her Styx.

  God, she’d nearly lost him.

  “You hungry, baby?” Tossing his keys into the brass bowl by the door, Styx’s free hand guided her into the living room and toward the couch. From the time they’d left the grocery store he’d been in constant physical contact with her, keeping her hand held against his leg as he drove them home. “I make a mean plate of scrambled eggs and toast.”

  “All I want is you.” More exhausted than she’d ever been in her life, Sydney slumped into the corner of the couch and rested her head on the armrest. “I still can’t believe you’re okay.”

  “I wasn’t the one who had a gun jammed into my ribs.” Lowering himself onto the cushions beside her, he pulled her against him so that she could use him as a pillow instead. Much better. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the moment I saw you with that fucker as he jammed a gun into your side.” She felt more than saw him shake his head. “Trey should’ve let me kill that bastard. It would’ve been justifiable homicide.”

  “You shouldn’t have been there at all.” An echo of
horror rippled through her, freezing her from the inside out. To combat it, she pressed her ear to his chest and took comfort in the steady beat of his heart. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. I’m furious with Trey for involving you in dangerous police work. He has body armor and training. You don’t.”

  “I didn’t give him a choice, Fun-Size, so don’t blame him, yeah? I ran into Trey when I rolled up to give you a ride home, and he was acting all twitchy. He was in the process of telling me that he thought he’d uncovered why Grover Wilson wasn’t talking right around the time you sent that text message that obviously got cut off.”

  That perked her up. “Grover Wilson hasn’t been talking?”

  “Nope. Earlier this morning Trey and I were discussing it, and we realized it was weird that Grover wasn’t trying to save himself. He had to be protecting something or someone. Trey spent the day wearing out his shoes roaming all over Chicagoland, talking to everyone who’s ever known Grover. You’ll never guess what he found out.”

  “That Wesley Newburg is Grover Wilson’s son? Wesley mentioned something about being related to a criminal earlier,” she explained when she felt him jolt in surprise. “Also, Wesley’s one of those fussy guys who monograms everything, including those stupid sweater vests both he and his father favor. Obviously his middle name starts with a W, so I’m guessing his full name is Wesley Wilson Newburg, and that he pressured his father into doing what Grover does best—boosting a car and screwing it up in the process.”

  “Chicago PD needs to sign you up as their lead detective,” he muttered, his hold tightening on her as he bent to brush his lips against her hair. “Yeah, that’s exactly what Trey found out. When I rolled up to take you home, my brother landed on me with all these questions about Wesley—like if I’d ever gotten any weird vibes from him, and if I knew where his office was located so they could do a surprise visit and catch him off-guard somehow. Then your weird text about Wesley came in, and I freaked the fuck out. I started heading into the store, but they wouldn’t let me anywhere near the entrances.”

  “Why?”

  “It was obvious from your text that you knew for a fact what Trey merely suspected up to that point—that Wesley was dirty. At that time, the store was full of people and they were worried I would somehow tip off that asshole that he was caught, which would then kick off a potential hostage situation. I understood all that, but I was going to find a way into that store no matter what, so I told Trey I’d keep trying to get you on the phone while he did whatever it was he had to do. Then I started heading around the building to see where I could get in.”

  Oh. “I heard you talking to someone when we were on the phone. If you weren’t talking to Trey, who were you talking to?”

  “My old man. He’d had the same idea, and we met up while wandering around outside. Trey caught up to us eventually, thanks to my old man calling him to let him know I was in contact with you and knew exactly where you were in the building. But by that point, he and I had already gotten in through the loading bay doors.”

  “The two of you are absolute idiots,” she announced, too tired to decide whether or not she was more touched or furious with them for risking their lives for her. “When I realized you were in the building with me, I could barely breathe. It was a nightmare.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Fucker had a goddamn gun on you.”

  “I know he had a gun on me, and I’m sure I have the bruises to prove it, but that’s not the point.” She pushed away from him to sit ramrod straight, while another wave of horror washed over her. “The point is, you could have been hurt. You could have been killed.”

  “The same thing could have happened to you.”

  “I had no choice in being there, Styx. You did.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Dear God, she really was going to kill him. “That wasn’t a game we just went through, and it wasn’t like something you’ve seen in the movies where’s it’s all pretend violence. Wesley was a real crook with a real gun, and in the end he was making so many stupid mistakes it wouldn’t have surprised me one bit if he’d decided it was the most logical thing in the world to have a damn shootout there and then.”

  “But that didn’t happen, Syd, so relax. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over, because you have no clue what you put me through.”

  That made his brows slam down. “Wait just a damn minute. I know exactly what kind of hell I put you through, because I went through the same thing from the moment I got that cut-off text from you.”

  “The difference between us is that I wasn’t careless with my own life,” she all but shouted at him. “Unlike you, I wasn’t acting like I was somehow bulletproof like frigging Luke Cage and running right into the heart of danger. You did that.”

  “To save you, damn it. Don’t you understand that?”

  “What you need to understand is that I love you,” she raged, and was made that much angrier when her fury took liquid form and leaked out of her eyes. “Now that you know that, what kind of life would I have if anything had happened to you, especially because of me? Tell me, Styx. Tell me how I’m supposed to not have nightmares about you getting shot because you were putting yourself in the line of fire, when that wasn’t even your damn job.”

  “Taking care of you is my damn job. Don’t you tell me what my fucking job is.” Then, out of nowhere, he grinned as if he found her hilarious. “Wait. You love me?”

  “You mean right now? Because right now, the only truth I know is that I don’t even want to talk to you, I’m so mad at you for putting yourself in danger.” She took a shuddering breath and realized she was one thin hair away from totally losing it. Goddamn it. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. There was supposed to be romance and candles and whispered sweet nothings. Instead, here she was screeching like a banshee and so overwrought she feared she’d throw up in the next minute or so.

  She couldn’t have ruined this moment any more if she’d tried.

  “I need some space.” Abruptly she stood and made a beeline for the front door, snagging up her purse as she went. “We’ll talk later, but right now I’m such a mess I can’t even think straight. I’m going to go across the street to my—”

  “No.” In a few strides he was in front of her, blocking her way, and his grin was nowhere to be found. “You got all the space you need right here. I’ll hang out in my studio or the living room while you go take a nap in the bedroom, or take a hot bath—whatever you need to do to unwind. Just know that whatever space you need is right here with me.”

  Clearly the man didn’t understand needing space was woman-speak for needing to be alone. But all at once she was too tired to explain, and too tired to fight her way out of his apartment. She was too tired to even stand there and breathe, much less think about how she could possibly find a way to get a second chance to tell him how much he meant to her.

  With her luck, she’d probably screw that up, too. She’d screw it up, because dreams never came true for her.

  Without a word—because she’d said too much already—she turned and headed for the bedroom, collapsed face-down on the bed and quietly cried herself to sleep.

  “…always thought I knew the story on that, but obviously I had the wrong end of the stick.”

  Sydney slowly opened her eyes to a night-darkened room. The sneakers under the window were now neatly laid out, though she knew they wouldn’t stay that way for long. That was fine with her. Carelessly kicked-off shoes seemed to be Styx’s biggest personal housekeeping issue. Other than that, he was just about perfect to live with.

  But now that the danger had passed, and she’d been such an emotional train wreck earlier, continuing to live with Styx probably wasn’t something she should count on.

  Damn it.

  “Yeah, I’d always assumed Mom was pissed at you because you’d bought that house in the first place.” Styx’s voice came through loud and clear from the great room beyond. Frowning, Sydney rolled to a sitting po
sition, dropping her feet to the floor and glancing toward the door.

  Open.

  She’d made sure it was closed before she’d hit the bed.

  She hadn’t wanted him to hear her crying.

  “Hell, yeah, she’s pissed at me. It’s fucking adorable how pissed she is. Now that I get what’s behind it, I just want to laugh. Did you ever tell Mom she was cute when she was angry? Because Syd is definitely cute when she’s angry.”

  “Cute,” she muttered, dragging herself out of bed and trudging for the bathroom. “Great.”

  That was the problem with being short, she scowled, turning on the shower and stripping out of clothes she had every intention of throwing away. Aside from not being able to reach the top shelf for anything, her lack of height also gave the world the totally wrong impression that she was a child who shouldn’t be taken seriously.

  Somehow she’d assumed Styx knew better by now.

  Apparently not.

  Not that it mattered, she thought, stepping under the spray and closing her eyes as the hot water needled over her. She’d told him she loved him while in a state of near-hysteria, and more than anything she wanted to have that moment back.

  Not that she regretted telling him how she felt. She didn’t. When she’d had a gun digging into her side, she’d realized with sinking, despairing regret that she’d never told Styx how she felt. The thought of dying before letting him know he was loved was still too painful to bear, so no way did she regret telling him what was in her heart.

  What she regretted was that he hadn’t given any hint that he might care for her, too.

  Cold air hit her, giving her only a second’s warning that she was no longer alone. She turned as Styx, completely naked, closed the glass shower door behind him.

  “Out.” She was shocked at how dead her voice sounded. It was as if the mad rollercoaster day she’d endured had overloaded her emotional circuitry and blown it to smithereens. Now all she felt was numb. “I want to be alone.” Greta Garbo, eat your heart out.