Thick As Thieves: An Enemies-To-Lovers Romance (Paths To Love Book 5)

by Grahame Claire

  “Mama,” I breathed, gently threading my fingers through hers. She stirred, and I felt guilty for waking her. Her skin was almost gray, with none of the vibrancy that usually colored it. She didn’t even look like herself. How was this the same woman who’d roused at me only days before? How was this the woman who’d forced countless family items into my world a mere seventy-two hours ago? How? I wanted the woman I remembered taking us to the park and cooking our supper, the one who smiled when I walked into a room and screamed a curse word when I played a prank on her. This wasn’t her. It was my denial of her illness that had propelled me to take the actions I had. Now here it was, punching me in the face. It wouldn’t leave a broken nose or a black eye, but a hole in my chest that would never be filled.

  I bent and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” I whispered. When was the last time I’d said that? What I was doing was always more important, and she’d accepted that without complaint, rarely nagging unless it had been too long since I’d come home for supper.

  I’d robbed her—of money, of time. What if what I’d stolen could have helped her get the treatment to cure her? What if I’d killed her with my greed and quest for . . . what had I really been after anyway?

  What the fuck had I done and why?

  She squeezed my fingers, surprisingly stronger than I’d expected for her weakened state. I’d seen her only days ago. She’d looked a far cry better than this. Her eyes blinked open, though it seemed to take great effort. “Drew,” she said hoarsely, a weak smile on her lips. “Baby, stop worrying about me.”

  My eyes flooded with tears. She was so fucking sick, but she still put me first. “Can’t help it, Mama.” I swallowed the lump that had thickened in my throat, determined not to let her see me weak. She needed my strength. “I thought you were getting better.” She opened her mouth to speak and nothing came out. I shook my head. “Don’t talk. You rest. Let me get you some water.”

  She gave me a grateful smile when I picked up the cup on the bedside table and held the straw to her dry lips. I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead once more. Her eyes drifted shut, but she clung to my hand as though she didn’t want me to go. A chair was pushed behind me, and I looked to see that Mulaney was the one who offered it. I ignored her and sat, positioned right next to Mama’s bedside so I could stay close.

  My eyes adjusted to the dimness, and I glanced around the room. There was no sign of my father, which surprised and disappointed me. I couldn’t believe he’d leave her side but should have known he wouldn’t be there if I was.

  The room was so still; even the machines Mama was hooked to were quiet. None of us spoke, though I had a lot of questions about what the hell had happened, including why the fuck hadn’t anybody told me my mother was in some sort of hospital? I tamped down my temper, not wanting to convey my feelings to Mama through our joined hands. She needed positivity. What was done was done. At least I was with her now.

  * * *

  “What is he doing here?” my father growled when he returned a short time later. When he was stressed, he tended to get angrier.

  I made no move other than to gently squeeze Mama’s hand. Her breathing was still even, her face peaceful, so he hadn’t disturbed her.

  Easton jumped out of his chair, putting a hand on our father’s chest when he tried to approach. “I brought him here, Dad,” he said quietly. Our father blinked at him in confusion as if he couldn’t understand. I didn’t completely myself, but I was grateful, nonetheless. “He had a right to know.”

  “The hell he did,” Dad said, barely keeping his voice down. “I want you out. Loretta doesn’t need your toxicity.”

  “You should be thanking me,” I said, easing between Easton and Dad.

  “I can’t begin to imagine why.” My father’s disgust for me radiated.

  “Because I bought your company. Now you’re free to be here instead of trying to run an empire.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drew

  Silence fell.

  I smiled to myself. They’d found out so much, but judging by the look on my father’s face, they didn’t know that little nugget.

  Dad gripped my shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Mostly you,” I said quietly out of respect for Mama. Easton stepped between the two of us. My father’s face was a dark red as if he were about to have a heart attack.

  “Let’s go,” Easton said through his teeth, guiding me to the door.

  This wasn’t the time or place. Mama needed rest. She needed calmness around her, not the tension from our family feud. Resigned, I retreated but not before kissing her cheek. “I won’t be far,” I promised, straightening.

  “I warned you to stay away from her,” Dad said as I made for the exit.

  I paused, keeping my voice deadly quiet. “And I’m warning you. You won’t keep me from my mother.” I strode into the hallway and stuck my head into a few doors, looking for somewhere to wait besides that lobby. So far, all I’d found was an examination room and a supply closet.

  “This way,” Easton said from behind me, leading me to a room that had a bed, a sofa, a chair, and a television. The covers on the bed were wrinkled as if someone had been lying on top of them. “Mulaney convinced him to rest for a while, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

  “What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t anyone tell me she was in the hospital? Or whatever this place is.” I gestured wildly, infuriated to have been left in the dark.

  “She’s having an experimental procedure. The doctors said it would be rough, but if she makes it through, her chances of recovery are better than with only chemo or radiation.”

  “I didn’t know she was considering it,” I shouted, slamming my fist into the mattress. “I should have been here today.”

  Guilt flashed in Easton’s eyes, but he didn’t sugarcoat it. “You know why you weren’t.”

  “Someone should have told me, goddammit. She’s my mother, and I don’t know how much longer I have with her.”

  “Why do you think you’re here now? We both should have realized that time was limited well before now.” He talked to Mama every day or just about. They were close. I’d sent her to voicemail on more occasions than I cared to admit. Seeing her like that made me see what a fool I’d been. My anger had never been directed at her, yet she’d suffered the consequences of it. And now I would too. Fuck.

  “I’m not leaving,” I said indignantly. “I don’t care if I have to sleep on the street. She needs to know we’re all here.”

  “Just stay out of Dad’s sight.”

  “I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” I said bitterly.

  “I don’t know if the past can ever be undone. I-I can’t figure out how to fix it.” Easton ran a hand through his hair, at a loss.

  “Why is it your responsibility to fix everything? They never do anything wrong. So really, it’s me, you mean, who needs to change,” I accused, not bothering to hide my disdain. Why would I ever bother to change when it wouldn’t matter anyway? I could become a priest or a missionary or devote my life to helping the less fortunate, and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to them.

  “You do need to do some serious soul-searching,” Easton said. “What kind of person steals from his family? I’d get it if it was only a little bit. Maybe you were having financial problems. Maybe you were pissed because we nixed a project you believed in. But I don’t see how you can blame Dad for having a hard time looking at you.”

  “It started well before the company went under,” I shouted, immediately wishing I could take it back. I’d given away more than I wanted to, and the addled look on my brother’s face confirmed it.

  “You have so much explaining to do. Including what you meant when you said you own Carter Energy. Start now.”

  I hated when he took that I’m-older-and-wiser tone. “Our mother is sick. That should be our focus.” All my pent-up energy needed an outlet. I wanted to pace but couldn’t show my han
d. Easton was pressing me into a corner. If he kept it up, I’d have to get nasty.

  “She’s resting. If you’re determined to stay, we’ve got plenty of time to hash some of this out. I want answers. As I said before, I’m not asking as the brother you deceived. I need to know where this went wrong. When we stopped being family to you. Because, Drew, you never stopped being family to us.” The sincerity in Easton’s voice was like a hand wrapped around my throat. When he spoke that way, it made everything I’d done seem over-the-top absurd. Like a kid lashing out for attention—which was exactly what I’d been. I’d been hurt, so I went after what would hurt them the most.

  “The hell I didn’t.” I couldn’t stand still any longer, so I moved around the bed to the small window overlooking the street. A couple pushed a stroller, at a casual pace, carefree despite the cold, almost as if their lives were summertime and there was sunshine all year round. I turned away in disgust.

  “You were upset about the pipeline. I know you thought it was a good idea, but it was just too risky—and that’s coming from a family of gamblers,” Easton reasoned.

  I smiled ruefully, shaking my head. “That’s just one example in a list a mile long.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

  I shrugged indifferently when I was anything but. Mulaney walked in, and I didn’t bother to stifle a groan. Knowing her, she’d bulldoze her way into matters with little regard for consequence. I steeled myself for the verbal berating she’d be more than willing to unleash on me, but she went straight to my brother, tucking herself against his side.

  “We both thought you should have been here earlier, that you had a right to know Loretta was having this done,” she said.

  “You’re damn right I should have been,” I said combatively. It would feel good to fight. The unsettledness and uncertainty had me antsy. I’d never hit a woman, but Mulaney and I could have a shouting match with the best of them.

  She didn’t take the bait. Instead of being pissed, it looked like she felt sorry for me. That I couldn’t stand.

  “I almost lost Ruby, and I love your mother like my own. As much as I don’t like you, it’s wrong to keep you from her. If there’s one thing you care about, it’s Loretta. We’re on the same team. At least on this.”

  No. She was so fucking wrong. We’d never gotten along, but when she stepped into the Carter Energy boardroom for the first time, our dislike for one another had escalated. What had started as provocation on my part grew to manipulation. And she deserved every moment of it. Yet she—the golden daughter—was extending an olive branch of sorts to me. Fuck that.

  She might have won over my dad, taken every ounce of his pride and admiration, and scored my brother as her husband, but she was not family to me. Never would be.

  “We were never in the same stadium, let alone on the same team,” I shot back, and neither of them appeared surprised. “I’m going to get some air. None of you are keeping me out of her room. Dad and the two of you can get over it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sonya

  He hadn’t been around in three days.

  I told myself I cared because I wanted another cigarette and nothing more, but his absence was notable. I felt it before I ventured down to the dining room that first morning, swearing my appearance had everything to do with not hiding from the world. The truth was, I was looking for Drew, and now that he wasn’t there, I was finding the reasons to stay more difficult.

  I told myself the disappointment had to do with potentially losing my next mark. If I left, I wouldn’t be headed back into the lap of luxury. While the option of the Four Seasons on someone else’s credit card wasn’t the worst, it had lost its appeal. I was back at square one.

  My story and the black eye were flimsy at best. The longer I remained at Paths of Purpose, the better my chances of getting caught, but no amount of makeup would cover this shiner. Plus, I’d just found that dream closet downstairs. All those clothes and shoes . . . for free. That alone was hard to walk away from, never mind the food, accommodations, and the fact that Sam had a safe place to stay.

  Worse, in the three days I’d come out of my shell, I’d met more women, ones I liked very much, even though they made me feel guiltier. The shadows that lurked behind the hope in their eyes were genuine. That was how I found myself taste-testing recipes, giving an opinion on clothing designs, and quizzing them with flashcards for upcoming exams. These women had dreams and goals—tangible ones. I’d never given a shit about helping anyone but myself—a necessity to survive—yet I couldn’t seem to stop from offering help where it was needed. Because these women were survivors too . . . just doing life differently.

  I knew what it was like to have dreams and watch them shatter in an instant. In a way, I felt a different kind of guilt for encouraging them when there was a better chance of failure than success. These women had had enough of the real world and just how nasty it could be. They needed hope to keep going.

  “You look good with flour on your face,” Trish said as she turned off the large mixer.

  I flicked the white stuff in her direction. Trish ducked, though some of it stuck on her dark shirt. “Now we match.”

  “Nope. You’ve got some in your hair too.”

  “You never mentioned this was a dirty job.” She’d recruited me to bake strawberry, chocolate, coconut, and champagne chiffon cakes. Her mentor had secured her an interview with another potential investor, and Trish was in a panic to perfect her sweets for the meeting. And I was in uncharted territory. Friends were few and far between for me, but it seemed I’d made one without meaning to.

  “And thankless too. You can’t even taste-test.”

  “I’m out,” I said, playfully tossing down an oven mitt.

  “You can’t go. Okay, okay.” Trish held up her hands in surrender.

  “It was implied I could try all of them,” I said, arching a brow. “And you wouldn’t let me lick the bowl. Keep this up, and you’ll lose your help.” My stomach growled. “See? Starving. It smells like a confectioner’s shop. I had no idea that, under that sweet little façade, you’re a torturer.”

  She stiffened but relaxed so quickly I almost missed it. “This one is almost ready. If you’ll watch the mixer, I’ll finish frosting it, and we’ll get to the fun stuff.”

  “Eating?” I asked hopefully, already moving in her direction.

  “Exactly.”

  * * *

  We were feasting on strawberry cake when Ella, who had napped through the entire ordeal, got fussy.

  “I’m going to change her. I won’t be long,” Trish said, scooping her daughter in her arms, automatically cooing at her.

  “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  She pointed at me accusingly. “That doesn’t include another piece of cake.”

  “What are you, a mind reader?” I teased, knowing there was more to come once the others finished baking.

  She laughed and disappeared, the swinging door slapping a few times before it shut. I scraped a glob of icing off my plate and was licking the fork clean when I heard the door again.

  “I haven’t had any more yet,” I said and turned to find Drew. He had on dark jeans and a gray Henley shirt, looking mouthwatering and like hell at the same time.

  Without a word, he swiped his finger in the decadent icing, smeared it on the edge of my mouth, and licked it off with the tip of his tongue. “That’s good, sugar. Almost as sweet as you.” There was something lethal about him tonight. He was on edge.

  “I’m amazed you don’t have a trail of women following you with those lines.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, a puzzled expression on his face. “Where’d they go?”

  I swatted at him, and he took the opportunity to swipe my fork and dig into the remainder of my strawberry cake. “Bastard,” I muttered, sliding the plate out of his reach.

  “And to think I was going to give this bite to you.” He popped it into his mouth and hummed his app
roval. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you have some more.”

  “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you usually gone by this time?” I parked my hands on my hips, which stretched my baby tee across my chest. His eyes dipped, and the smirk that seemed to be a permanent fixture returned.

  “I’m flattered you pay attention to my schedule, but that is an excellent question.” Drew put an index finger to his lips, as if in deep concentration. “Why am I here at nearly eight in the evening?”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “Oh, sugar, of course you do.” He circled me, a hair’s breadth from my back. When he spoke against my ear, a shiver rolled through me. “What if I made up that I needed to speak to Mrs. Quinn after hours just so I could see you?”

  “Save it,” I said, whipping around. I was unprepared for the close-up view of him again. I really hadn’t appreciated how good-looking he was, but if I started focusing on that, I’d lose sight of what was most important, and he’d gain the upper hand. “Does anyone actually buy your brand of bullshit?” I was cut off from saying anything further when he shoved a fistful of cake in my mouth.

  Drew laughed as I spluttered, gently pressing his palm against my unbruised cheek, imprinting it with cake and icing. He held his hand in front of my face as I glared at him, struggling to regain my composure. “Lick it. You know you don’t want to waste any of this.”

  It was a dare. Jackass. I smiled sweetly and stuck out my tongue. His eyes darkened. Now I’ve got you where I want you. I inched toward his palm, but instead of licking, I bit hard.

  Drew hissed, grabbing my hip with his free hand, yanking me into him. “Tigress.” His dirty hand threaded through my hair, which was swept back into a ponytail. “Tell me who the fucker was that took a swing at you. How bad of shape did you leave him in?” He looked proud of me, and more than that, he didn’t see me as some helpless waif who couldn’t take care of herself.