by T K Barber
“You didn’t fail. You’re doing your best.”
Fantastic, that did it. She couldn’t hide the tears at that point, so she chewed at the quiver in her lip, and winced against the watery onslaught.
How many failures could one person make? Her best. Hardly.
Rico pulled her into a hug and cinched his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
He muttered as she turned her cheek to his chest. “Tu sei forte il ferro. Bella come un fiore.”
She sniffled and furrowed her brow. “What does that first one mean? And what about a flower? And doesn’t ‘bella’ mean—”
“You are strong as iron.” He tightened his arms and cleared his throat, a warm, thick sound against her cheek. “And . . . I didn’t say either of those.”
Despite everything, every miserable single thing, laughter broke free. How did he always do that? She shook her head against his chest.
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
She could hear his smile without looking and chuckled as she wiped her face. “Saying ‘no’ doesn’t change that you said it.”
“But, I didn’t.”
She laughed again and pushed out of his arms, fully clearing the tears from her face. His hands went back to his hips, and he gave her his warm, wide grin.
“Thank you for the compliments. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“. . . Of course.”
His smile faltered, and he gestured to the car as she rubbed her eyes again. He held out his hand, helped her in, then closed the door and frowned as he glanced out across the street. “Sempre.”
Ryker
The soft moans and whimpers coming from the nurse writhing against him drew a displeased sneer from his mouth.
While Kathy felt decent enough, it wasn’t her. She was probably as tight as hell. And all that flawless skin. A wave spun through him, and his eyes fluttered.
He pounded the used up, drug line decorated body in front of him with an angry, sharp rhythm.
Kathy’s scratchy moan grew louder, but he heard a different voice. The one he’d been lusting after for two months. Finally, his chin lifted with a short grunt, and he dug his fingertips into her hips, holding her tight against him.
So unsatisfying.
He pulled out of her and shoved himself backward, pushing her into the desk.
“Hey!” She stumbled and caught herself. “You’re such an ass.”
Her smiling tone was lost on him. He was over the forced banter. Over Kathy, and her irritating laugh. He frowned. Over this waiting bullshit with Annalise. He wanted her.
He tossed the used condom in the trash and the tissue he used to clean right on top.
“Tie that up and take it with you when you go.”
He zipped his fly, tucked in his shirt, and grabbed his satchel.
“Wait!”
Kathy grabbed his forearm, her skirt still hiked up. He had no problem looking only at her face.
He raised his brows in wait. She released him, shimmied the cloth back down over her hips, and huffed as she smoothed down the front of her shirt.
“Why don’t you ever want to come to my house? Or to dinner? Don’t get me wrong.” She grinned and stepped up to him. “I love this. It’s hot. But I’d like to be more than just, you know . . .” She trailed off as she scanned his face, her smile falling.
“I’m done with you, Kathy.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “You can’t be done with me. One, I get my ‘meds’ from you. Two, we work together.”
Ryker smiled. “Too right. You’re cut off. And fired.”
He turned toward the door again, but she dug her nails into his bicep and jerked backward. He sucked in a hiss and snatched out of her grip.
“This is because of that psycho blond bitch, isn’t it?! I’ve seen the way you look at her! Are you screwing her, too? I’ll fucking kill her!”
He scowled. “This has nothing to do with Nataly. I have no interest in her. Or you.” He stepped into her space and stared her down. “You’re not going to lay a finger on her though, or I’ll turn you in for stealing drugs from patients.”
“You—” Her mouth hung open, and he spun back toward the door.
The single ding of a text notification sounded from his pocket, and he fished out his phone. He smiled. Another transaction. Excellent.
He strolled un-phased to the door and called over his shoulder, “Don’t forget that trash bag.”
The door thudded closed behind him. Trash taking out the trash. Fitting.
Ryker’s shoes clipped with low beats across the linoleum floor as he made his way to the drug locker.
A brilliant idea struck him. He glanced up from his phone and let his eyes scan the long hallway. Ketamine. He smiled wider. Perfect.
He reached the bland door and dug his key out of his pocket. His imagination ran away from him and all over a petite, young, black-haired beauty.
He’d have her tonight. Right after his sale.
Annalise
She had no clue how to find Thomas. No clue where he might be or where he’d even want to go. Was he being hurt? Made to do terrible things? God, she hoped not.
She stalked down the sidewalk, arms tight across her chest. She moved until her thighs ached, then slowed and glanced around.
“Thomas. Where the hell did you go?” She sighed and rubbed her temples.
An engine dulled behind her and she held her breath. Was she being followed?
Her palms needled as her heart raced. Adrenaline coursed through her and she fell back into her familiar panic.
She took off down the sidewalk and rounded the upcoming alley until she glanced up at the street sign. Bertman Bay Avenue.
Her jaw dropped open, and she skidded to a stop. Bertman Bay. Her warehouse was down at the end of this long road.
She sucked at nothing, her lungs wouldn’t work. Pain everywhere, blood again, gunshot. She squeezed her eyes shut with a whimper.
Over that, she heard the car engine again and one word rose above the haze.
Run. Run.
She stumbled forward, her legs like jelly before her feet found purchase. She curled around the left edge of the building and doubled back up another side alley, then cut across the street twice more until she was painfully out of breath. She pressed her back against a wall and gasped.
“Annalise? That you?”
Her body shook, arms vibrating to the beat of her heart. Ryker.
She stepped back onto the street and there he was, leaning out the driver’s window of his red sports car. Why was he sitting out here?
She nodded through her gasps, and he beckoned. “Get in, what the hell are you doing?”
She staggered to the door and dropped down on the seat, panting. She glanced over at him, her chest heaving.
He checked the rear and side mirrors. “You’re out here alone?”
“Yeah.” She finally managed. “Someone was following me.” Another gasp. “I think. Pretty sure at least.” A slow breath out.
He finally turned to face her and smiled slowly. “Well, you’re safe now. Where to?”
Her mind stalled. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of the left one. She really didn’t have a destination. She didn’t want to go home. She had no clue where Thomas was. She sure as hell didn’t want to go back to Marianna’s, or deal with Nick and Scarlet. V was out on some business—thing—with Jack, and they probably had the OTB locked up tight.
That really only left one place.
“I guess the shop.” She repositioned, tucking her legs under her in the seat and crossed her arms.
Ryker’s hand landed on the middle of her left thigh with a light pat. “You got it.” His fingers moved in a ripple, sending a wave of nausea through her body. Before she had a chance to say anything, though, he lifted his hand and draped it on top of the steer
ing wheel.
God the creep factor just kept on rising. How much longer would she have to deal with this?
A couple more glances over his left shoulder, and he pulled away from the curb. Now that they were moving, she felt a little safer. Not much, but a little was better than none. Who was that following her anyway?
“Why were you out this late?”
Ryker’s voice sounded off. Speech pattern different. Annalise glanced at him again, but nothing seemed out of place, not that she could see at any rate. What could she tell him, though?
She cleared her throat. “I wanted to go see a movie, but it was sold out.” She firmed her lips and fought shaking her head. Stupid. She knew exactly what he’d ask next. And she had no freaking clue what was even playing at the theatre, let alone what time the last showing was. Stupid stupid.
“Oh man, that sucks. Well, lucky I was here, huh?” Another Ryker grin came her way, and she imagined deflecting it with some sort of magical spell. Something like a skeeze shield held up in front of her brain. She smiled at that thought, and he winked.
Either he didn’t give a shit why she was out there, or he was way dumber than she thought. Probably the latter. Whatever. After he dropped her off, she’d just work until she figured out what to do next.
She nodded and gave a curt “Yep,” popping the ‘P.’ “Suuuper lucky.”
Annalise scanned the street ahead of them, then did a quick turn in her seat, checking out the rear window. Maybe she’d been imagining it all? She had been dealing with some fucked up stuff today. She turned back around slower and hummed.
A large black car rolled down the opposite side of the narrow street and Annalise furrowed her brows. It looked familiar. When had she seen it? Was that—Oh! That was one of Marianna’s cars. As it passed, she strained her neck to see the driver, but the tint was too dark. Maybe whoever it was was out looking for Thomas.
After riding several blocks in silence, they turned into the lower parking lot that flanked the storefront strip, and Ryker pulled into the spot closest to the door.
She smiled at the matching, square brick planters that stood on either side of the door. Even the back of their store was—the bottom dropped out of her stomach.
If she couldn’t save him from whatever the hell was going on, it would only be her store. She gripped her knee. No. She’d find him. And save him. Whatever that meant.
She nodded to herself and faced Ryker. “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning I guess.”
Ryker let out a single hum and killed the engine. Annalise froze, hand on the door handle. “Oh, you don’t have to come in. I’m just going to cut, or paint, or something. Burn off some energy.” She smiled and gestured with her head toward the keys.
Ryker smiled back and got out, the door closing firm behind him.
Hmm. Maybe he was just going to walk her to the door.
She ducked her head and followed suit, pushing the door closed with her hip. She gave him a tight smile, jammed her hands in her pockets, and closed her eyes.
Duh. He still had her keys. Though, he could have just handed them to her. She made a beeline for the door, and he strode behind her, keeping pace.
Captain Freaky was really getting under her skin. Her pulse sped, and she held out her palm in wait.
Slow breaths. It was just Ryker.
His smile was plastic, eyes too busy as he slowly set her keys on her hand.
“Mmk,” she mumbled and jammed the key in the lock, battling the tremors and when the tumbler clicked into place her heart jumped.
God, she needed to quit being so spastic. She shook her head with a small chuckle and pulled the door open. The scent of fresh paint, raw wood, and the metal undertone of new ducting hit her, and she breathed deep.
She loved it. It smelled like hard work. Success.
“Be glad when this airs out a bit, won’t you? It’s strong.” Ryker waved his hand in front of his face and Annalise thinned her lips.
She grunted a non-committal tone and started up the stairs.
Only she didn’t make it. She was tugged to an abrupt stop by Ryker’s hand around her upper arm. Drums sounded in her head to the rhythm of her now slamming heart. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he smiled, lifting his chin toward the fridge.
“Come on, let’s get something to drink. You were running pretty fast.”
Her throat scratched. Yeah, okay she was a bit thirsty. But she wanted to get upstairs.
“In a couple minutes. I need to check the front door locks. You can hang down here if you want.” She smiled. “Or leave.” Please. “That’s okay too. I’m good alone, honest.”
He raised his brow in disbelief and let out a short laugh. “Since when?”
Asshole.
She sighed. “Since now. Stay or go, I’m going upstairs.”
He released her arm with a slow nod. “Okay. I’ll chill here for a bit.”
She took the remaining steps two at a time as she shivered. The large room was exactly the same as she left it. Painter’s cloths, disparate chunks of molding, and that beautiful counter. She placed her palm on the teal wall beside her and pulled it back. Perfectly dry. She smiled. Awesome.
Annalise strolled all the way to the front door and braced her arms on the handles, her forehead pressed against the glass. The streetlamps sparkled like starbursts through the window tint, hazing when she blew out a long breath.
Where was he? Damnit she just got him back. Only got to make love once! Her skin flushed at the memory, but her heart squeezed and she forced down a sob when her eyes fell on the scrawled “Tommy’s” door sign.
She imagined the room full of customers. Her at the counter, Thomas doing . . . whatever Thomas did. She grinned widely and bit her bottom lip, gaze following a moth in its chaotic flight across the sidewalk.
He’d probably schmooze with people. Make drinks. Jokes for sure. Cook stuff? She chuckled. Maybe not. But, more importantly, he’d be here. With her. Loving her. The swell of emotion was nearly painful as it twisted again. Her smile dropped.
She’d find him.
Marianna
Marianna followed Rico into the house, chewing on the inside of her lip. He’d been completely silent the entire car ride. Was he upset about Thomas? A chill snaked down her spine. Thomas’s haunting scream. The emptiness in his eyes.
She swallowed. Or had she said something to upset him? That thought made her chest ache. She hoped not.
Once inside he threw an angry glare her way. She wasn’t fond of that look on him.
“What’s wrong?”
He crossed his arms and exhaled. “How did they know where he was? Where the guards were? When to be there? I don’t like this.”
God, those were million-dollar questions. “Only thing to assume is we have a mole.” She sighed and rubbed her neck, tilting her head.
Rico’s eyes were locked on hers when she reopened them. They stared at each other for a second, before he grunted and looked away.
“I agree. But who?”
Marianna dropped down in the wingback chair to the right of the fireplace and Rico positioned himself beside her on its arm. She allowed herself a small amount of comfort from his proximity and the warmth of his thigh.
“Okay.” She sighed and lowered her head to rub her temples. “Let’s brainstorm. We know all our guys in and out.”
Rico grunted in agreement again. Marianna raised her head and let her hands drop.
“Was anyone not with us out there?” She passed a sideways glance up to his strong face and watched him rake his hand through all that soft brown hair. She blinked and dropped her gaze.
“Everyone we told, came. Without hesitation. Or question.”
She groaned and let her head drop, her eyes staring intently at the uneven grooves in the aged hardwood. Everything was so damn difficult. Things were quite close to being a bit too much to handle, especially alone.
Not that s
he’d ever admit it. She exhaled slowly and shook her head. Who would she even admit it to?
Rico shifted his hip on the arm. Marianna’s eyes widened when his warm hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed soothingly. He cleared his throat.
“We will fix this. Somehow.”
Despair rolled through her again and she scoffed.
“We? Rico this is all on me. I’m the only one that has to deal with any of this.”
His hand ceased what had been a comforting half massage and lifted like her skin was a scalding hot poker.
“Are you . . . is that truly what you believe?”
Marianna rubbed her hands down her face and leaned back against the chair, her gaze straight ahead. They didn’t have time for this.
“So, no one gave off any bad vibes?”
Rico crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “No.”
A wheel kicked into motion and Marianna jutted out her chin.
“Well, let’s try a different thought process. Who’s our newest guy?”
Oh no. Marianna’s stomach dropped. She sucked in a breath, jumping up and facing Rico.
“Booker!”
Rico nodded. “And he shot Thomas. Merda. It wasn’t an accident, then.” He launched to his own feet, barely missing Marianna as she stumbled backward.
“Rico, he was a plant.” Breathing was nearly impossible, but she gasped. “From the start! Do you think—” she swallowed down bile and gripped her throat. “I bet he was aiming for Annalise. Lyle’d never have Thomas killed.”
Rico’s knuckles went white from the pressure of his clenched fist. “Si. Almost certainly.”
“He’s been with Thomas every . . . day. I—” Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.
Rico caught her just before her knees hit and pulled her into his arms.
“You didn’t fail.”
How could he possibly have known what she was thinking? Also, he was terribly wrong. Her throat closed and she pushed out of his embrace. Besides they had no time for this.
“I did, I accept that. But I can fix—”
“We.”
